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Di due vaghe donzelle, oneste, accorte
Lieti e miscri padri il ciel ne feo;
L' una e l'altra veggendo, ambo chird o. La mia fu lolta da veloce morte
A le fumanti tedc d' Imenco :
Eterna prigioniera or si rendeo.
Irrerneabil soglia, ove s'asconde
La sua tenera udir voce pictosa. lo verso un fiume d'amarissim' onda,
Corro a quel marmo in cui la figlia or posa, Batto e ribatto, ma nessun risponde.
Or two fair virgins, modest though admired,
Heaven made us happy, aod now, wretched sires;
Ileaven for a nobler doom their worth desires,
liecomes extinguishid, soon-100 soon expires :
Eternal captive, to her God aspires :
Which sinuts between your Dever-meeting eyes,
Mayat bicar her sweet and pious voice once more
pour, And knock, and knock, and knock-but none replies:
Oh! who in such a night will dare
To tempt the wilderness ?
Our signal of distress?
To try the dubious road?
That outlaws were abroad.
More fiercely pours the storm!
To keep my bosom warm.
O'er brake and cragey brow: While elements exhaust their wrath,
Sweet Florence! where art thou ?
Thy bark hath long been gone :
Bow down my head alone!
When last I press'd thy lip;
Impell'd thy gallant ship.
Hast trod the shore of Spain :
Should linger on the main. And since I now remember thee,
In darkness and in dread,
Which mirth and music sped;
If Cadiz yet be free,
Look o'er the dark blue sea;
Endear'd by days gone by ;
To me a single sigh.
The paleness of thy face,
Of melancholy grace,
Some coxcomb's raillery;
Who ever thinks on thee.
When sever'd hearts repine;
And mourns in search of thine.
Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
Where panting nature droops the head, Where only thou art scen to smile,
I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's cracey shore,
Divided by the dark-blue main, A few brief rolling seasons o'er,
Perchance I view her cliffs again. But wheresoe'er 1 now may roam,
Through scorching clime and varied sca, Though time restore me to my home,
I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee. On thee, in whom at once conspire
All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire,
And oh! forgive the word- to love. Forgive the word in one who ne'er
With such a word can more offend; And since thy heart I cannot share,
Believe me, what I am, thy friend. And who so cold as look on thee,
Thou lovely wanderer, and be less?
The friend of Beauty in distress!
Through Danger's most destructive path,
And 'scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath? Lady! when I shall view the walls
Where free Byzantium once arose ; And Stamboul's Oriental halls
The Turkish tyrants now enclose ; Though mightiest in the lists of fame
That glorious city still shall be,
As spot of thy nativity.
When I behold that wondrous scene,
WRITTEN AT ATHENS.
JANUARY 16, 1810.
Thus is it with life's fitful fever ;
Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought
Recals the woes of Nature's charter, And he that acts as wise men ought,
But lives, as saints have died, a martyr.
The distant shore which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,
To quit another spot on earth.
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE. Dear object of defeated care!
Though now of love and thee bereft, To reconcile me with despair
Thine image and my tears are left. 'Tis said with sorrow time can cope;
But this I feel can ne'er be true : For by the death-blow of my hope
My memory immortal grew.
WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS
By those tresses unconfined,
MAY 9, 1810.
By that lip I long to taste;
Jy in the month of dark December,
Leander, wlio was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remember?)
To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont! If, when the wintry tempest roard,
He sped to llero, nothing loath,
Fair Venus ! how I pity both!
Though in the genial month of May,
And think I've done a feat lo-day:
According to the doubtful story,
And swam for love, as I for glory;
Sad mortals! thus the gods still plaguc you! Ile lost his labour, I my jest,
For he was drowo'd, and I've the ague.
Maid of Athens! I am gone;
heart and soul: Can I cease to love thee! No! Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
1910. Maid of Athens, cre we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest ! lear
my vow before I Zon 9.00, ous ir ju
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR
The following translation is as literal as the author could bak inis
Sons of the Greeks, arise!
The glorious hour 's gone forth,
Display who gave us birth,
Ju arms against the foe,
In a river past our feet.
'On the 3d of May, 1810, while tho Salsette Captain Bathurst) was Jyiu: in the Dardanelles. Licut bant Llinead of that frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the Luropean shore to ili Aniatie --by-the-boy, from Abydos to Sastos sould have been more corree. The whole distance from the place in wo stari to our landin ou throchur sile, ioluling the leagth we were carried by the current as computed by those on board the frinte atupwards of four Els miles; thou, the actual breadth in barcly one. The rapidity of the current in such that no bout cau row direitly idons, and it may in some measur: b* Calimated from the circumstance of the whole distanci bein, ac omplished by one of tbs parties in an hour and live, and bith other in an bour and ten minutes. The water 120 1'1trumrly cold from the melting of the mountain-mess. Ahout thrin wochs before, in April, we had made an atteinpt, but basing ridini all the way from the Troad the same morning, and that's Inf ani y chillness, we found it neres vary to postpone il compilation till the frigate anchord below the castles, when we swam the straits, as just stated, catering a considerable way ahore ibo Evropan, 1911 landing below the Asiatic fori. Chuvalier says that a young Jew sam the same data for his inistrent Olivrementions tshain: done by a Napolitan; but our oa ul, Tarragoa, reme uberetni bir of these circumstants, and tried to dissuade us from the altempt. number of the Salserte's crew were known to have accomplishda creates distance; and the only thing that surprised me was that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no lasila Ter bail over endeavoured to ascertaio its practicability, Zvo mou, sas ngmpo, or Zor, poi, 6'5097270,
Romaini pression of tenderness: if I translate it tolall affront i he penalman, slis it may xei'm that I supposed they could not; and if I do 10l, I may affrout th: ludies. For fear of any misionstraction on th: putoll latter I shall do so, berrime pardon of th: learned. It means, Y life, I love you!" bied sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as niuch in fashion in Greece at this was as, Juvenalt.Ila un, th:10 first words were amongst ibu Roman ladies, whose croneer's sous were all Ilellenized.
Then manfully despising
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
your comtry see you rising,
Belold the coming strife!
Oh, start again to life!
Your sleep, ol), join with me!
Sons of Greeks, etc.
Sparia, Sparta, wly in slumbers
Lethargic dost thou lie?
With Athens, old ally!
In the East (where ladies are not taught to writs, leat this stor!: siribbleassi Dation. Howera, cinders, pe blos, etc., con vestbe seer Dos of the parties lig that universal deputy of Meron-aut: 1 soran. A rindas savs, I barn for thee; a bunch of funnit with hair, Take me and fly;- bus a pebble declans-sha: 342
Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.
That chief of ancient song, Who saved ye once from falling,
The terrible, the strong!
In old Thermopylæ,
To keep his country free;
The battle, long he stood, And, like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood.
Sons of Greeks, etc.
Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,
An equal love may see :
Can weep no change in me.
la gazing wheu alone;
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
Nor need I write-to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak : Oh! what can idle words avail,
Unless the heart could speak?
By day or night, in weal or woe,
That beart, no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent ache for thee.
TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,
« Μπαίνω μες το περιβόλι,
Ωραιότατη Χαηδή,» etc. The song from which this is taken is a great favourite with the young
girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner of singing it is by verses in rotation, the whole number present joining in the chorus. I have beard it frequently at our - zó poln in the winter of 1800-u. The air is plaintive and pretty..
I ENTER thy garden of roses,
Beloved and fair Haidée,
For surely I see her in thee.
Receive this fond truth from my tongue,
Yet trembles for what it has sung.
Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Sbines the soul of the young Haidée.
When love has abandond the bowers;
That herb is more fragrant than flowers.
Will deeply embitter the bow);
The draught shall be sweet to my soul.
My heart from these horrors to save :
Then open the gates of the grave.
Secure of his conquest before,
Hast picrced through my heart to its core.
By pangs which a smile would dispel ?
For torture repay me too well ?
Beloved but false laidée!
And mouras o'cr thine absence with me.
Without a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot,
Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain; The past, the future fled to thee
To bid us meet--no-nc'er again! Could this have been-a word, a look,
That softly said, « We part in peace,» Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter siglas, thy soul's release. And didst thou not, since death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! wbo like him had watch'd thee here?
Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour cre death appear,
When silent sorrow fears to sigli, Till all was past? But when no more
"T was thine to reck of human woe, Affection's beart-drops, gushing o'er,
Had flowd as fast-as now they flow. Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere callid but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside;
The smile none else might understand ; The whisper'd thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling land; The kiss so guiltless and refined,
That love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind,
Even passion blush'd to plead for more. The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine ; The song celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine;
ON PARTING. The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,
shall never part from mine,
Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not forin'd to live alone : I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none. It was not ibus in days more dear;
It never would have been, but thou Hast fled, aud left me lonely here:
Thou 'rt nothing-all are nothing now.
The pledge we wore-I wear it still,
But where is thine?-ah, where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's best bloom
The cup of woe for me to drain. If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thec here again; But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here. Teach me-too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven : On earth thy love was such to me,
It fain would form my liope in heaven!
In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that sorrow fain would wear But mocks the woe that Jurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
The heart-the heart is lonely still!
Away, away, ye notes of woe!
Be silent, thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oli!
I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter days
But lull the chords, for now, alas! I must not think, I may not gaze
On what I am, on what I was.
On many a lope and lovely night
Je soothed to gaze upon the sky, For then I deem'd the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye ; And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the Ægean wave, « Now Thyrza gazes on that moon–»
Alas, it gleam d upon her grave!
When stretch'd on fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, « 'T is comfort still,» I faintly said,
« That Thyrza cannot know my pains. Like freedom to the time-worn slave,
A boon 't is idle then to give, Relenting Nature vainly gave
My life wheu Thyrza ceased to live!
The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Js hushd, and all their charms are fled ; And now their softest notes repeat
A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead? Yes, Thyrza ! yes, they breathe of thec,
Beloved dust! since dust thou art; And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart ! 'T is silent all!—but on my ear
The well-remember'd echoes thrill; I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still Yet oft my doubting soul 'I will shake,
Even slumber owns its gentle tone, Till consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.
Thou art but now a lovely dream-
Then turn'd from earth its tender beam.
pass, when heaven is veil'd in wrath, Will long lament the vanishil ray
That scatter'd gladness o'er his path.
My Thyrza's pledge in better days,
When love and life alike were new, How different now thou mcet'st my gaze!
llow tinged by time with sorrow's bue! The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent-ah, were mine as still! Though cold as even the dead can be,
li feels, it sickens with the chill.
Thou bitter pledge! thou mournful token!
Though painful, welcome to my breast ! Still, still preserve that love unbroken,
Or break the heart to wliich thou 'rt presi' Time tempers love, but not removes,
More hallow'd when its hope is fled : Oh! what are thousand living loves
To that which cannot quit the dead?