Ambition nerved young Allan's hand, And pour'd her venom round his heart. Swift is the shaft from Allan's bow; Whose streaming life-blood stains his side? Dark Oscar's sable crest is low, The dart has drunk his vital tide. And Mora's eye could Allan move, She bade his wounded pride rebel: Alas! that eyes which beam'd with love Should urge the soul to deeds of hell. Lo! seest thou not a lonely tomb Which rises o'er a warrior dead? It glimmers through the twilight gloom; Oh that is Allan's nuptial bed. Far, distant far, the noble grave Which held his clan's great ashes stood; And o'er his corse no banners wave, For they were stain'd with kindred blood. What minstrel gray, what hoary bard, Shall Allan's deeds on harp-strings raise? The song is glory's chief reward, But who can strike a murderer's praise? Unstrung, untouch'd, the harp must stand, No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse, THE EPISODE OF NISUS AND EURYALUS, NISUS, the guardian of the portal, stood, Twas his, with beauty, valour's gifts to share- These burn with one pure flame of generous love; "What god," exclaim'd the first, " instils this fire? Or, in itself a god, what great desire ? My labouring soul, with anxious thought oppress'd, Abhors this station of inglorious rest; The love of fame with this can ill accord, With equal ardour fired, and warlike joy, His glowing friend address'd the Dardan boy: "These deeds, my Nisus, shalt thou dare alone? Must all the fame, the peril, be thine own? Am I by thee despised, and left afar, As one unfit to share the toils of war? Not thus his son the great Opheltes taught; Not thus my sire în Argive combats fought; Not thus, when Ilion fell by heavenly hate, I track'd Æneas through the walks of fate : Thou know'st my deeds, my breast devoid of fear, And hostile life-drops dim my gory spear. Here is a soul with hope immortal burns, And life, ignoble life, for glory spurns. Fame, fame is cheaply earn'd by fleeting breath: The price of honour is the sleep of death." Then Nisus:-"Calm thy bosom's fond alarms, If in the spoiler's power my ashes lie, Now o'er the earth a solemn stillness ran, And lull'd alike the cares of brute and man; Save where the Dardan leaders nightly hold "With patience" (thus Hyrtacides began) "Attend, nor judge from youth our humble plan. Where yonder beacons half expiring beam, Our slumbering foes of future conquest dream, Nor heed that we a secret path have traced, Between the ocean and the portal placed. Beneath the covert of the blackening smoke, Whose shade securely our design will cloak ! If you, ye chiefs, and fortune will allow, We'll bend our course to yonder mountain's brow, Where Pallas' walls at distance meet the sight, Seen o'er the glade, when not obscured by night: Then shall Æneas in his pride return, While hostile matrons raise their offspring's urn; And Latian spoils and purpled heaps of dead Shall mark the havoc of our hero's tread. Such is our purpose, not unknown the way; Where yonder torrent's devious waters stray, Oft have we seen, when hunting by the stream, The distant spires above the valleys gleam." Mature in years, for sober wisdom famed, Moved by the speech, Alethes here exclaim'd, "Ye parent gods! who rule the fate of Troy, Still dwells the Dardan spirit in the boy; When minds like these in striplings thus ye raise, Yours is the godlike act, be yours the praise; In gallant youth, my fainting hopes revive, And Ilion's wonted glories still survive." Then in his warm embrace the boys he press'd, And, quivering, strain'd them to his aged breast; With tears the burning cheek of each bedew'd, And, sobbing, thus his first discourse renew'd: "What gift, my countrymen, what martial prize Can we bestow, which you may not despise ? Our deities the first best boon have givenInternal virtues are the gift of Heaven. What poor rewards can bless your deeds on earth, Doubtless await such young,, exalted worth. Eneas and Ascanius shall combine To yield applause far, far surpassing mine." Iulus then :-" By all the powers above! By those Penates who my country love! By hoary Vesta's sacred fane, I swear, My hopes are all in you, ye generous pair! Restore my father to my grateful sight, And all my sorrows yield to one delight. Nisus! two silver goblets are thine own, Saved from Arisba's stately domes o'erthrown! My sire secured them on that fatal day, Nor left such bowls an Argive robber's prey: Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine; Two talents polish'd from the glittering mine; An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave, While yet our vessels press'd the Punic wave: But when the hostile chiefs at length bow down, I pledge my word, irrevocably past: Nay more, twelve slaves, and twice six captive dames, To him Euryalus:-"No day shall shame No fainting mother's lips have press'd my cheek; The mother of lulus, lost on the night when Troy was taken. Arm'd, thence they go, while all th' assembled train, His prayer he sends; but what can prayers avail, The trench is pass'd, and, favour'd by the night, Through sleeping foes they wheel their wary flight. When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er? Alas! some slumber who shall wake no more! Charlots and bridles, mix'd with arms, are seen; And flowing flasks, and scatter'd troops between : Bacchus and Mars to rule the camp combine; A mingled chaos this of war and wine. Now," cries the first, "for deeds of blood prepare, Watch thou, while many a dreaming chieftain dies: Stretch'd at his ease, th' incautious king reposed; In slaughter'd fold, the keepers lost in sleep, His hungry fangs a lion thus may steep; 'Mid the sad flock, at dead of night he prowls, With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls : Insatiate still, through teeming herds he roams; In seas of gore the lordly tyrant foams. Nor less the other's deadly vengeance came, But falls on feeble crowds without a name; His wound unconscious Fadus scarce can feel, Yet wakeful Rhesus sees the threatening steel; His coward breast behind a jar he hides, And vainly in the weak defence confides; Full in his heart, the falchion searched his veins, The reeking weapon bears alternate stains; Through wine and blood, commingling as they flow, One feeble spirit seeks the shades below. Now where Messapus dwelt they bend their way, Whose fires emit a faint and trembling ray; There, unconfined, behold each grazing steed, Unwatch'd, unheeded, on the herbage feed: Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm, Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warm: "Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is pass'd; With silver arms, with various art emboss'd, What bowls and mantles in confusion toss'd, They leave regardless! yet one glittering prize Attracts the younger hero's wandering eyes; The gilded harness Rhamnes' coursers felt, The gems which stud the monarch's golden belt: This from the pallid corse was quickly torn, Once by a line of former chieftains worn. Th' exulting boy the studded girdle wears, Messapus' helm his head in triumph bears; Then from the tents their cautious steps they bend, To seek the vale where safer paths extend. Just at this hour, a band of Latian horse To Turnus' camp pursue their destined course: While the slow foot their tardy march delay, The knights, impatient, spur along the way: Three hundred mail-clad men, by Volscens led, To Turnus with their master's promise sped: Now they approach the trench, and view the walls, When, on the left, a light reflection falls; The plunder'd helmet, through the waning night, Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright. Volscens with question loud the pair alarms: "Stand, stragglers! stand! why early thus in arms From whence? to whom?"-He meets with no reply; Trusting the covert of the night, they fly: The thicket's depth with hurried pace they tread, While round the wood the hostile squadron spread. With brakes entangled, scarce a path between, Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene: Euryalus his heavy spoils impede, The boughs and winding turns his steps mislead; But Nisus scours along the forest's maze To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze, Then backward o'er the plain his eyes extend, On every side they seek his absent friend. "O God! my boy," he cries, "of me bereft, In what impending perils art thou left!" Listening he runs - above the waving trees, Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze; The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground. Again he turns, of footsteps hears the noise; The sound elates, the sight his hope destroys: The hapless boy a ruffian train surround, While lengthening shades his weary way confound; Him with loud shouts the furious knights pursue, Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew. What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare? Ah! must he rush his comrade's fate to share? If e'er myself, or sire, have sought to grace But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, Revenge his leader, and despair his guide; Volscens he seeks amidst the gathering host, Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost; Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe; Rage nerves his arm, fate gleams in every blow; In vain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds, Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds; In viewless circles wheel'd, his falchion flies, Nor quits the hero's grasp till Volscens dies; Deep in his throat its end the weapon found, The tyrant's soul fled groaning through the wound. Thus Nisus all his fond affection proved Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved; Then on his bosom sought his wonted place, And death was heavenly in his friend's embrace. Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim, No future day shall see your names expire, 1 Medea, who accompanied Jason to Corinth, was deserted by him for the daughter of Creon, king of that city. The chorus from which this is taken here addresses Medea; Who ne'er unlocks with silver key 1 And ocean's storms between us roll! THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE HIGH in the midst, surrounded by his peers, Happy the youth in Euclid's axioms tried, What, though he knows not how his fathers bled, Can tell what edicts sage Lycurgus made, While Blackstone 's on the shelf neglected laid; Such is the youth whose scientific pate A manner clear or warm is useless, since We speak to please ourselves, not move the crowd: A proper mixture of the squeak and groan: ! The original is « Καθαρὰν ἀνοίξαντι κληδα φρενών,” literally, "disclosing the bright key of the mind." 1 No reflection is here intended against the person mentioned under the name of Magnus. He is merely represented as performing an unavoidable function of his office. Indeed, such an attempt could only recoil upon myself; as that gentleman is now as much distinguished by his eloquence, and the dignified propriety with which he fills his situation, as he was in his younger days for wit and conviviality.[Dr. William Mansel was, in 1790, appointed to the headship of Trinity College, by Mr. Pitt. While a bachelor of arts, he distinguished himself as the author of several jeux d'esprit. Dr. Jowett, of Trinity Hall, having amused both himself and the public, by a pretty little fairy garden, with narrow gravel walks, besprinkled with shells and pellucid pebbles, and enclosed by a Chinese railing, Dr. Mansel wrote the following lines thereon: "A little garden, little Jowett made, If you would know the taste of little Jowett, He was indebted to the influence of his pupil, the late Mr. Lodge, in June, 1820.] 3 Demosthenes. No borrow'd grace of action must be seen; The man who hopes t' obtain the promised cup Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up; Nor stop, but rattle over every word No matter what, so it can not be heard. Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest : Who speaks the fastest's sure to speak the best; Who utters most within the shortest space May safely hope to win the wordy race. The sons of science these, who, thus repaid, Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade; Where on Cam's sedgy banks supine they lie, Unknown, unhonour'd live, unwept-for die : Dull as the pictures which adorn their halls, They think all learning fix'd within their walls. In manners rude, in foolish forms precise, All modern arts affecting to despise ; Yet prizing Bentley's, Brunck's, or Porson's 5 note, More than the verse on which the critic wrote: Vain as their honours, heavy as their ale, Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale; To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel When Self and Church demand a bigot zeal. With eager haste they court the lord of power, Whether 't is Pitt or Petty rules the hour; 6 To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head, While distant mitres to their eyes are spread. But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace, They'd fly to seek the next who fill'd his place. Such are the men who learning's treasures guard! Such is their practice, such is their reward ! This much, at least, we may presume to say The premium can't exceed the price they pay. TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. SWEET girl! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget; And though we ne'er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain. I would not say, "I love," but still My senses struggle with my will: 1806. 4 [In most colleges, the fellow who superintends the chapel service is called Dean.] The present Greek professor of Trinity College, Cambridge; a man whose powers of mind and writings may, perhaps, justify their preference. [In a letter written in 1818, Lord Byron says: "I remember to have seen Porson at Cambridge, in the hall of our college, and in private parties; and I never can recollect him except as drunk or brutal, and generally both: I mean in an evening; for in the hall, he dined at the Dean's table, and I at the Vicemaster's; and he then and there appeared sober in his demeanour; but I have seen him, in a private party of under-graduates, take up a poker to them, and heard him use language as blackguard as his action. Of all the disgusting brutes, sulky, abusive, and intolerable, Porson was the most bestial, as far as the few times I saw him went. He was tolerated in this state amongst the young men for his talents; as the Turks think a madman inspired, and bear with him. He used to recite, or rather vomit, pages of all languages, and could hiccup Greek like a Helot: and certainly Sparta never shocked her children with a grosser exhibition than this man's intoxication."] 6 Since this was written, Lord Henry Petty has lost his place, and subsequently (I had almost said consequently) the honour of representing the University. A fact so glaring requires no comment. [Lord Henry Petty is now (1836) Marquess of Lansdowne.] |