Chapter 11

O Jove, who rulest the rolling of the earth, And o'er it hast thy throne, whoe'er thou art, The ruling mind, or the necessity Of nature, I adore thee: dark thy ways, And silent are thy steps; to mortal man Yet thou with justice all things dost ordain. Euripides: _Daughters of Troy_ 955.

Was this then human, or divine? Did it a middle nature share? What mortal shall declare? Who shall the secret bounds define? When the gods work we see their pow'r; We see on their high bidding wait The prosperous gales, the storms of fate: But who their awful councils shall explore? Euripides: _Helena_ 1235.

12

And those, the Ever-Virgin ones, I call, Erinnyes dread that see all human deeds, Swift-footed, that they mark how I am slain By you Atreidae; may they seize on them. Doers of evil, with all evil plagues And uttermost destruction. Sophocles: _Ajax_ 937 [Plumptre].

Passing bits of Nature-Painting

13

Thou firmament of God, and swift-wing'd winds, Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves That smile innumerous! Mother of us all, O Earth, and Sun's all-seeing eye, behold, I pray, what I a God from Gods endure. Aeschylus: _Prometheus_ 88 [Plumptre].

14

_A Sacred Spot_

This spot is holy, one may clearly tell, Full as it is of laurel, olive, vine. And many a nightingale within sings sweetly. Rest my limbs here upon this rough-hewn rock. Sophocles: _Oedipus at Colonus_ 16.

15

_A Grove of the Furies_

Rush not on Through voiceless, grass-grown grove, Where blends with rivulet of honey'd stream The cup of water clear. Do. 156.

16

_A Meadow of Artemis_

Thee, goddess, to adorn I bring this crown Inwoven with the various flowers that deck The unshorn mead, where never shepherd dared To feed his flock, and the scythe never came, But o'er its vernal sweets unshorn the bee Ranges at will, and hush'd in reverence glides Th' irriguous streamlet: garish art hath there No place; of these the modest still may cull At pleasure, interdicted to th' impure. Euripides: _Hippolytus_ 81.

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_The Nile_

These are the streams of Nile, the joy of nymphs, Glowing with beauty's radiance; he his floods Swell'd with the melted snow o'er Egypt's plain Irriguous pours, to fertilize her fields, Th' ethereal rain supplying. Euripides: _Helena_ 1.

18

_The Nightingale_

On thee, high-nested in the museful shade By close-inwoven branches made, Thee, sweetest bird, most musical Of all that warble their melodious song The charmed woods among, Thee, tearful nightingale, I call: O come, and from thy dark-plumed throat Swell sadly-sweet thy melancholy note. Euripides: _Helena_ 1191.

19

_Flight of Cranes_

O might we through the liquid sky Wing'd like the birds of Lybia fly; Birds, which the change of seasons know, And, left the wintry storms and snow, Their leader's well-known call obey. O'er many a desert dry and cultured plain He guides the marshall'd train, And cheers with jocund notes their way. Ye birds that through th' aerial height Your course with clouds light-sailing share, Your flight amidst the Pleiads hold, And where Orion nightly flames in gold; Then on Eurota's banks alight, And this glad message bear: "Your king from Troy shall reach once more, With conquest crown'd, his native shore." Euripides: _Helena_ 1603.

20

_A Storm_

So is it as a wave Of ocean's billowing surge (Where Thrakian storm-winds rave, And floods of darkness from the depths emerge,) Rolls the black sand from out the lowest deep, And shores re-echoing wail, as rough blasts o'er them sweep. Sophocles: _Antigone_ 586 [Plumptre].

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Steering their rough course o'er this boisterous main, Form'd in a ring beneath whose waves The Nereid train in high-arch'd caves Weave the light dance, and raise the sprightly song, Whilst whisp'ring in their swelling sails Soft Zephyrs breathe, or southern gales Piping amidst their tackling play, As their bark ploughs its wat'ry way Those hoary cliffs, the haunts of birds, among, To that wild strand, the rapid race Where once Achilles deigned to grace. Euripides: _Iphigenia among the Tauri_ 492.

(Specimens of Gnomic Verses)

22

Amongst barbarians all are slaves, save one. _Helena_ 311.

23

He is no lover who not always loves. _Daughters of Troy_ 1148.

24

What our necessities demand, becomes Of greater moment than to conquer Troy. _Andromache_ 427.

25

'Tis not the counsel, but the speaker's worth, That gives persuasion to his eloquence. _Hecuba_ 266.

26

Skilful leech Mutters no spell o'er sore that needs the knife. _Ajax_ 581.

27

It is through God that man or laughs or mourns. _Ajax_ 385.

28

No mortal man May therefore be call'd happy, till you see The last of all his days, and how, that pass'd, He to the realms of Pluto shall descend. _Andromache_ 114.

29

All human things A day lays low, a day lifts up again; But still the gods love those of order'd soul. _Ajax_ 130.