Hence are its dance, its motions, and its tone,
Its squeaking voice, and accents not its own.
ODE TO THE LEARNED DR. THOMAS BURNETT,'
AUTHOR OF THE SACRED THEORY OF THE EARTH.
TRANSLATED BY REV. THOS. NEWCOMBE.
No common height the muse must soar,
That would thy fame in numbers try;
Nor dare in humble verse adore,
But rise with thee above the sky;
You ask a bold and lofty strain,
And what we meanly sing, disdain.
You nature's early birth explore,
The secrets of her womb disclose,
From what mixed cause, and jarring power,
The infant-earth to being rose:
How, in her circling bosom, sleep
Th' imprisoned seas, and bounded deep.
Resolved great hidden truths to trace,
Each learned fable you despise;
And, pleased, enjoy the famed disgrace
To think and reason, singly wise:
Each tale reject by time allowed,
And nobly leave the erring crowd.
Hark! from her weak foundations tore,
The bursting earth asunder flies,
And, propped by yielding seas no more,
The dreadful crack alarms the skies:
Whose arches rent, their weight forego,
And plunge in opening gulfs below.
Now rushing from their watery bed,
The driving waves disdain a shore;
And with resistless force o'er-spread
That orb, which checked their rage before :
While, scattered o'er the foamy tide,
All nature's floating ruins ride.
Ad insignissimum Virum D. Tho. Burnettum. Vol. i. p. 251.
New heavens revealed, the silver train
The sun beneath their waves admire;
And gliding through th' enlightened main,
Gaze at each star's unwonted fire.
Well pleased the moon's bright orb survey,
Trembling along their azure play.
How strong each line, each thought how great!
With what an energy you rise!
How shines each fancy! with what heat
Does every glowing page surprise!
While spouting oceans upward flow,
Or sink concealed in caves below.
Their naked tops the hills admire,
No longer white with fleecy dew;
And as they moan the spreading fire,
Add to the flames dissolving too :
While rocks from melting mountains flow,
And roll in streams through vales below.
And now the kindling orbs on high
All nature's mournful end proclaim;
When thy great work, (alas!) must die,
And feed the rich, victorious flame:
Give vigour to the wasting fire,
And with the world, too soon, expire.
Once more her bloom the earth renews,
Smoothed into green eternal vales;
Her glebe still moist with fragrant dews,
Her air still rich with balmy gales:
No change her flowery seasons breed,
But springs retire, and springs succeed.
O say, thou great, thou sacred name,
What scenes thy thoughtful breast employ;
Capacious as that mighty frame,
You raise with ease, with ease destroy.
Each world with thy fair glories filled,
The earth you burn, and that
*This Poem, 'Cursus Glacialis,' Anglice Skating,' although printed in the Muse Anglicane as the production of PHILIP FROWDE, and signed by him, is asserted by Mr. George Sewell, in his preface to Curll's volume 1725, to be certainly' written by Addison. The same assertion is repeated in a rare volume of Addison's Miscellaneous works,' printed for Cogan, 1750. The Latin original is found in every edition of the Musa Anglicana, a very common book. It will be sufficient here to give the English.]
SEE nature round a hoary prospect yields,
And beds of snow conceal the whiten'd fields:
Bleak winter blasts, congealing where they fly,
Shoot their keen darts, and mingling fill the sky.
The silent streams in murmurs cease to move,
Locked in their shores by icy bands above:
No more through vales they draw their hardened train,
But form, unmoved, a silent, silver plain:
The watery gods, who dwell in courts below,
Lament their stubborn waves no longer flow:
Each sad to view the empire where he reigns,
Enclosed above, and bound with crystal chains.
Yet this bleak season of th' inclement year
Can boast delights the smiling youth to cheer;
With vigorous sports the winter rage defy,
New brace the nerves, and active life supply.
Each now the labour hardy to endure,
Who boast a steady strength, and tread secure,
With panting joy the frozen kingdom gain,
Rush to the shore, and hide the crackling plain :
Now in long tracks with sailing speed they shoot,
And tire unarmed the vigour of the foot:
Now o'er the race in winding circles wheel,
Drove round, and carried on their shining steel.1
See! there the youth with eager passion glow,
Bound from above, and fill the plains below;
Skim lightly o'er the waves, and scarce deface
With beauteous prints the silver-shining race.
See! in the midst of their smooth journey, skilled,
They stop, and turn, and mark the glittering field;
Razing the surface, on they wheel around,
Which bends, and yields, and cracks beneath the wound;
They o'er the chace with easy labour drove,
Now here, now there, in endless mazes move.
If we such pleasures from its rigour gain,
The winter sheds its keenest rage in vain,
While with full joy the panting heart o'erflows,
And the fair cheek with fairer purple glows.
Here, if by chance, unable to convey
Too great a weight, the parting ice give way;
Or the bright knots, which on its surface rise,
O'erturn the hasty racer as he flies;
What shouts, what laughter, fill the echoing skies!
No pity in one merry face appears,
The wretch o'erwhelmed with jokes instead of tears:
His treacherous feet, and garments, as they flow,
Augment his fellows' joy, the hero's woe.
But if, descending on the slippery plain,
The rival youth for fame and glory strain;
Shoot from the barrier, and, with wishful eye,
To reach the goal, bend forward as they fly:
Breathless, around their eager arms they throw,
And lend new swiftness to their feet below.
No even tracks confess their winding way,
Confused they cross, and in meanders play;
Orb within orb, their sportive toil we view,
Whitening with steel the circles where they flew.
So when a swallow wantons in the air,
The spring arrived, and smiling season fair;
In doubtful mazes she her flight pursues,
Now sips the stream, now drinks the fragrant dews;
Now skims the flowery meadows, but to rise
Anon more lofty, and regain her skies.
Her airy windings each with joy surveys,
Views her quick turns, and wonders as she plays.
Skilled in these arts, (if not by fame belied,)
When chilling winters bind the solid tide;
Their ancient tracks the Belgian realms disdain,
For nearer paths along the frozen main :
The sliding traveller will now no more
Regard the mazes of the winding shore;
Pleased, o'er the waves, his pleasures does pursue,
With longing eyes some absent friend to view;
Or gaze on distant cities which arise
In foreign realms, and warmed by foreign skies.
Now to the faithful sea the matron dares
Herself commit, and trust her brittle wares;
Fearless the flying dame, lest she, or they,
By chance o'erturned, should sink the ocean's prey;
With shining furrows all the plain abounds,
Her icy journey marked with silver wounds.
DISSERTATIO DE INSIGNIORIBUS
ROMANORUM POETIS.
OMNIUM, in re poeticâ, maxime inclaruerunt Romani, et Romanorum Virgilius: optimæ quæque regulæ, huic arti
By Mr. Christopher Hayes.
Of all the nations in the world, the Romans have most excelled in the art of poetry, and even among the Romans Virgil has been
1 Dr. Parr set great value on this Dissertation, which he says is "not inserted in the quarto edition of Addison's Works, and but little known." (Bibl. Parr, p. 628.) In another part of his Catalogue he says he was many years in search of it, and adds: "I am at a loss to account for the omission both of the Latin and the English in the variorum edition of Addison's Works." Bibl. Parr, p. 285. There appear to be at least five editions, viz. 1692, 1698, 1718, 1725, and 1750.
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