Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

48

The Chariot Race.--The Polar Winter.

THE CHARIOT RACE. Hast thou beheld, when from the goal they start, The youthful charioteers with heaving heart Rush to the race, and panting scarcely bear Th' extremes of fev'rish hope and chilling fear; Stoop to the reins, and lash with all their force ? The flying chariot kindles in the course: And now alow, and now aloft they fly, As borne thro' air, and seem to touch the sky. No stop, no stay; but clouds of sand arise, Spurn'd and cast backward on the followers' eyes. The hindmost blows the foam upon the first. Such is the love of praise, an honourable thirst!

DRYDEN'S VIRGIL

THE POLAR WINTER.

The sun from far peeps with a sickly face, Too weak the clouds and mighty fogs to chase ; When up the skies he shoots his rofy head, Or in the ruddy ocean seeks his bed, Swift rivers are with sudden ice constrain'd; And studded wheels are on their back sustain'

d i

An

The Polar Winter. . 49 An hostry now for waggons, which before Tall ships of burthen on their bosom bore. The brazen caldrons with the frost are flaw'd; The garment stiff with ice at hearths is thaw'd ; With axes first they cleave the wine, and thence By weight the solid portions they dispense. From locks uncomb'd, and from the frozen beard, Long icicles depend, and crackling founds are

heard. Meantime perpetual fleet and driving snow Obscure the skies, and hang on herds below. The starving cattle perish in their stalls, Huge oxen stand inclos'd in wintry walls Of snow conceal'd; whole herds are buried there Of mighty stags, and scarce their horns appear. The dextrous huntsman wounds not these afar With shafts, or darts, or makes a distant war With dogs, or pitches toils to stop their flight; But close engages in unequal fight; And, while they strive in vain to make their way. Through hills of snow, and pitifully bray, Affaults with dint of word, or pointed spears, Aud homeward, on his back, the burthen bearş.

The

50

The Alps at Day-break.

The men to subterranean caves retire
Secure from cold, and crowd the cheerful fire :
With trunks of elms and oaks the hearth they

load,
Nor tempt th’ inclemency of heav'n abroad.
Their jovial nights in frolic and in play
They pass, to drive the tedious hours away.

DRYDEN'S VIRGIL
THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK.
The sunbeams streak the azure skies,
And line with light the mountain's brow:
With hounds and horns the hunters rise,
And chase the roebuck thro' the snow.

The goats wind now their wonted way,
Up craggy steeps and ridges rude;
Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey,
From defert cave or hanging wood.

And while the torrent thunders loud,
And as the echoing cliffs reply,
The huts peep o'er the morning cloud,
Perch’d, like an eagle's nest, on high.

ROGERS.

The Olive.--A Wilh.

51

THE OLIVE.

SEE the young olive in the sylvan scene,
Crown'd by fresh fountains with eternal green,
Lifts the gay head in snowy flow'rets fair,
And plays and dances to the gentle air,
When lo a whirlwind from high heay'n invades
The tender plant, and withers all its shades;
It lies uprooted from its genial bed,
A lovely ruin, now defaced and dead.

POPE'S HOMER.

A WISH.

MINE be a cot beside a hill;

A bee-hive's hum Thall footh my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,

With many a-fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch

Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft fhall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.
f 2

Around

82 Pity. Afcending the Alps.
Around my ivied porch shall spring

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew ;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing,
In ruslet gown and apron blue.

ROGERS.

PITY. No radiant pearl which crested fortune wears, No gem that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears, Not the bright itars which night's blue arch adorn, Nor riling funs that gild the vernal morn, Shine with such luftre as the tear that breaks For others' woe dowa virtue's manly cheeks.

DARWIN,

ASCENDING THE ALPS. PLEASED at the first the tow'ring Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky; Th' eternal (nows'appear already past, And the first clouds and mountains feem the last. But, those attain'd, we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way; Th’increasing profpear tires our wand'ring eyes; Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise.

POPE.

« ПредишнаНапред »