Afar from home, beneath another sky
Thou diedst-and ah! no sister then was nigh To bathe thy corse, and from the greedy fire Collect thy ashes, as the dead require;
But strangers paid the debt: who now return
Thy cherish'd dust within this little urn.
And have I watch'd thine infancy in vain
With lengthen'd hope,and love that sweeten'd pain?
Shielded thine innocence from dangers rude
With more than parents' fond solicitude?
Ta'en thee from menial hands, myself thy slave,
And rear'd thee, brother-only for the grave?
Now barren all my hopeful cares are made,
Lost with thy life, unfruitful as thy shade.
Oh thou hast gone,
and like the whirlwind's force
Swept all away together in thy course.
Dead is my sire, and I, who lived alone
In thee, no longer live, since thou art gone.
Our foes exult-our mother wild with joy
(Alas, no mother) hails her lifeless boy,
For whom I waited as my sorrow's friend,
Avenger of his father's timeless end;
But now, instead, o'er this sad urn I weep,
Where his poor ashes cold and silent sleep.
Oh piteous corse!-oh brother, sent to tread
Before this wretch the regions of the dead,
How hast thou left me to my foes a prey,
How has thy funeral swept my hopes away?
Yet take me, gentle brother-give me room
To rest beside thee in this narrow tomb,
That, as we shared affliction when alive,
Our boundless love may in the shades survive,
While our dust slumbers, mix'd by friendly fate,
Dull and unconscious of a mother's hate.
FAREWELL OF ADMETUS TO ALCESTIS.
FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES.
Admetus, a prince of Thessaly, was married to Alcestis, of whom he was passionately enamoured. Their happiness was interrupted by the declining health of Admetus, who was fast approaching to the grave. The infernal powers, however, grant him a reprieve, on condition of finding a substitute, who would, by a voluntary death, pay the price of his recovery. After the refusal of his aged parents, who are represented to have outlived the sense of those pleasures, which among barbarous nations can alone make life acceptable, his wife Alcestis prepares to devote herself, that the husband might survive to be the protector of their children. To reconcile the seeming cowardice of Admetus with the noble affection displayed for his wife, and the generosity of his disposition, we must suppose him forbidden by the Fates from preventing the sacrifice of his wife by his own devotion. A parting scene of the most exquisite tenderness enAlcestis exhorts her husband to live, and be guardian of their offspring; but requests him to bear her in his memory, and never to surrender that place in his heart to another which was once hers alone. He promises never to forget her, to pass his days in mourning for her loss, and to devote the remnant of his life to the contemplation of her virtues and her last act of heroic affection.
I GRANT thee all-distrust not, gentle wife-
Dead thou art mine, thou only, as in life;
No bride of all Thessalia's blooming race
Shall call me husband second in thy place,
Not though she mate thy high nobility,
Nor yield in angel loveliness to thee.
Enough of children-guard them, Heaven, I pray,
For her ye only lent, and tore away;
Not for a year, but while my pulses beat,
In this poor heart while memory holds a seat,
So long I'll mourn thee on this hateful earth,
Curse my gray sire, and her who gave me birth,
Who fear'd to die, though bow'd by grief and time,
But sent thee dress'd in smiles, and in thy prime,
Torn from the joys of youth and nuptial bed,
A ransom for thy lord, to join the dead.
Farewell to revel, and the festive throng,
To wanton garlands, dance, and social song;
Henceforth to me, sweet instruments, be mute,
The harp's wild raptures, and the Libyan flute,
All that was pleasure once my thoughts resign,
For all my joys are buried in thy shrine.
I'll have thee moulded as in life, and bear To my lone couch thy image sadly dear; Fall on the semblance, clasp it in my arms, Name it from thee-and, circling fancied charms, Gaze on the fair deceit, nor e'er forsake The death-cold statue, till it seems to wake. Poor comfort-but in triffes light as these My aching heart shall idly ask for ease. Yet in the dead still hour of night arise, When troubled phantoms flit before my eyes, Thou shalt not fright me, but my senses close In dreams of gentleness and lost repose. Oh, had I voice and power of song to melt The prince of night, who once for Orpheus felt, Pleased would I journey o'er these dreary coasts, And bear thee, dearest, from the land of ghosts; Ne'er should I tremble at that fearful way, But wake thy eyes to smile upon the day. Vain, idle thoughts! In those sad realms await Thy husband's coming when released by fate; One common mansion for our shades prepare, That our rent loves may join eternal there :
And when I die, to friendship I entrust
In one small urn to mix our kindred dust; For as we loved on earth, the grave shall be Dearer than life in thy society.
FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES.
THE rites derived from ancient days
With thoughtless reverence we praise,
The rites that taught us to combine
The joys of music and of wine;
That bade the feast, the song, the bowl
O'erfill the saturated soul,
But ne'er the lute nor lyre applied
To soothe despair or soften pride,
Nor call'd them to the gloomy cells
Where Madness raves and Vengeance swells,
Where Hate sits musing to betray,
And Murder meditates his prey.
To dens of guilt and shades of care,
Ye sons of melody, repair,
Nor deign the festive hour to cloy
With superfluity of joy!
Ah, little needs the minstrel's power
To speed the light convivial hour;
The board with varied plenty crown'd
May spare the luxury of sound.
REPROOF OF DISCONTENT.
FROM THE GREEK OF MENANDER.
HADST only thou, of all mankind, been born
To walk in paths untroubled by a thorn,
From the first hour that gave thee vital air
Consign'd to pleasure, and exempt from care,
Heedless to wile away the day and night
In one unbroken banquet of delight,
Pamper each ruling sense, secure from ill,
And own no law superior to thy will;
If partial Heaven had ever sworn to give
This happy right as thy prerogative,
Then blame the gods, and call thy life the worst,
Thyself of all mankind the most accursed!
But if with us the common air you draw,
Subject alike to Nature's general law,
And on thy head an equal portion fall
Of life's afflicting weight imposed on all,
Take courage from necessity, and try
Boldly to meet the foe thou canst not fly.
Thou art a man, like others, doom'd to feel
The quick descent of Fortune's giddy wheel;
Weak human race! we strive to soar from sight
With wings unfitted to the daring flight;
Restless each fleeting object to obtain,
We lose in minutes what in years we gain :
But why shouldst thou, my honour'd friend,repine?
No grief peculiar or unknown is thine!
Though Fortune smile no more as once she smiled,
Nor pour her gifts on thee, her favourite child,
Patient and firm, the present ill redress,
Nor, by despairing, make thy little less.
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