Chapter 10

To him Euryalus:--"No day shall shame The rising glories which from this I claim. Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown, But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown. Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart, One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart: My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line, Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine, Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain Her feeble age from dangers of the main; 180 Alone she came, all selfish fears above, [vii] A bright example of maternal love. Unknown, the secret enterprise I brave, Lest grief should bend my parent to the grave; From this alone no fond adieus I seek, No fainting mother's lips have press'd my cheek; By gloomy Night and thy right hand I vow, Her parting tears would shake my purpose now: [viii] Do thou, my prince, her failing age sustain, In thee her much-lov'd child may live again; 190 Her dying hours with pious conduct bless, Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress: So dear a hope must all my soul enflame, [ix] To rise in glory, or to fall in fame." Struck with a filial care so deeply felt, In tears at once the Trojan warriors melt; Faster than all, Iulus' eyes o'erflow! Such love was his, and such had been his woe. "All thou hast ask'd, receive," the Prince replied; "Nor this alone, but many a gift beside. 200 To cheer thy mother's years shall be my aim, Creusa's [2] style but wanting to the dame; Fortune an adverse wayward course may run, But bless'd thy mother in so dear a son. Now, by my life!--my Sire's most sacred oath-- To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth, All the rewards which once to thee were vow'd, [x] If thou should'st fall, on her shall be bestow'd." Thus spoke the weeping Prince, then forth to view A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew; 210 Lycaon's utmost skill had grac'd the steel, For friends to envy and for foes to feel: A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil, [xi] Slain 'midst the forest in the hunter's toil, Mnestheus to guard the elder youth bestows, [xii] And old Alethes' casque defends his brows; Arm'd, thence they go, while all th' assembl'd train, To aid their cause, implore the gods in vain. [xiii] More than a boy, in wisdom and in grace, Iulus holds amidst the chiefs his place: 220 His prayer he sends; but what can prayers avail, Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale? [xiv]

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! Chariots 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. 230 "Now," cries the first, "for deeds of blood prepare, With me the conquest and the labour share: Here lies our path; lest any hand arise, Watch thou, while many a dreaming chieftain dies; I'll carve our passage, through the heedless foe, And clear thy road, with many a deadly blow." His whispering accents then the youth repress'd, And pierced proud Rhamnes through his panting breast: Stretch'd at his ease, th' incautious king repos'd; Debauch, and not fatigue, his eyes had clos'd; 240 To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince, His omens more than augur's skill evince; But he, who thus foretold the fate of all, Could not avert his own untimely fall. Next Remus' armour-bearer, hapless, fell, And three unhappy slaves the carnage swell; The charioteer along his courser's sides Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides; And, last, his Lord is number'd with the dead: Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head; 250 From the swol'n veins the blackening torrents pour; Stain'd is the couch and earth with clotting gore. Young Lamyrus and Lamus next expire, And gay Serranus, fill'd with youthful fire; Half the long night in childish games was pass'd; [xv] Lull'd by the potent grape, he slept at last: Ah! happier far, had he the morn survey'd, And, till Aurora's dawn, his skill display'd. [xvi] In slaughter'd folds, the keepers lost in sleep, [xvii] His hungry fangs a lion thus may steep; 260 'Mid the sad flock, at dead of night he prowls, With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls Insatiate still, through teeming herds he roams; [xviii] 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 Rhæsus sees the threatening steel; His coward breast behind a jar he hides, And, vainly, in the weak defence confides; 270 Full in his heart, the falchion search'd 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, unconfin'd, behold each grazing steed, Unwatch'd, unheeded, on the herbage feed: [xix] Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm, Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warm: 280 "Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is pass'd; Full foes enough, to-night, have breath'd their last: Soon will the Day those Eastern clouds adorn; Now let us speed, nor tempt the rising morn."

What 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: 290 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 destin'd course: While the slow foot their tardy march delay, The knights, impatient, spur along the way: 300 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: 310 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. 320 "O God! my boy," he cries, "of me bereft, [xx] 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, [xxi] While lengthening shades his weary way confound; 330 Him, with loud shouts, the furious knights pursue, Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew. [xxii] What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare? Ah! must he rush, his comrade's fate to share? What force, what aid, what stratagem essay, Back to redeem the Latian spoiler's prey? His life a votive ransom nobly give, Or die with him, for whom he wish'd to live? Poising with strength his lifted lance on high, On Luna's orb he cast his frenzied eye:-- 340

"Goddess serene, transcending every star! [xxiii] Queen of the sky, whose beams are seen afar! By night Heaven owns thy sway, by day the grove, When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove; If e'er myself, or Sire, have sought to grace Thine altars, with the produce of the chase, Speed, speed my dart to pierce yon vaunting crowd, To free my friend, and scatter far the proud." Thus having said, the hissing dart he flung; Through parted shades the hurtling weapon sung; 350 The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay, Transfix'd his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay: He sobs, he dies,--the troop in wild amaze, Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze; While pale they stare, thro' Tagus' temples riven, A second shaft, with equal force is driven: Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes; Veil'd by the night, secure the Trojan lies. [xxiv] Burning with wrath, he view'd his soldiers fall. "Thou youth accurst, thy life shall pay for all!" 360 Quick from the sheath his flaming glaive he drew, And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew. Nisus, no more the blackening shade conceals, Forth, forth he starts, and all his love reveals; Aghast, confus'd, his fears to madness rise, And pour these accents, shrieking as he flies; "Me, me,--your vengeance hurl on me alone; Here sheathe the steel, my blood is all your own; Ye starry Spheres! thou conscious Heaven! attest! He could not--durst not--lo! the guile confest! 370 All, all was mine,--his early fate suspend; He only lov'd, too well, his hapless friend: Spare, spare, ye Chiefs! from him your rage remove; His fault was friendship, all his crime was love." He pray'd in vain; the dark assassin's sword Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gor'd; Lowly to earth inclines his plume-clad crest, And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast: As some young rose whose blossom scents the air, Languid in death, expires beneath the share; 380 Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower, Declining gently, falls a fading flower; Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head, And lingering Beauty hovers round the dead.

But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, Revenge his leader, and Despair his guide; [xxv] 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; 390 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. [xxvi] Thus Nisus all his fond affection prov'd-- Dying, revenged the fate of him he lov'd; Then on his bosom sought his wonted place, [xxvii] And death was heavenly, in his friend's embrace! 400

Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim, Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame! [xxviii] Ages on ages shall your fate admire, No future day shall see your names expire, While stands the Capitol, immortal dome! And vanquished millions hail their Empress, Rome!

[Footnote 1: Lines 1-18 were first published in 'P. on V. Occasions', under the title of "Fragment of a Translation from the 9th Book of Virgil's 'Æneid'."]

[Footnote 2: The mother of Iulus, lost on the night when Troy was taken.]

[Footnote i:

'Him Ida sent, a hunter, now no more, To combat foes, upon a foreign shore; Near him, the loveliest of the Trojan band, Did fair Euryalus, his comrade, stand; Few are the seasons of his youthful life, As yet a novice in the martial strife: The Gods to him unwonted gifts impart, A female's beatify, with a hero's heart.

['P. on V. Occasions.']

From Ida torn he left his native grove, Through distant climes, and trackless seas to rove.'

['Hours of Idleness.']]

[Footnote ii:

'And now combin'd, the massy gate they guard'.

['P. on V. Occasions'.]

--they hold the nightly guard'.

['Hours of Idleness'.]]

[Footnote iii:

And Love, and Life alike the glory spurned.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote iv:

Then Nisus, "Ah, my friend--why thus suspect Thy youthful breast admits of no defect."

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote v:

Trembling with diffidence not awed by fear.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote vi:

The vain Rutulians lost in slumber dream.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote vii:

'Hither she came------.

['Hours of Idleness.']]

[Footnote viii:

'Her falling tears------.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote ix:

'With this assurance Fate's attempts are vain; Fearless I dare the foes of yonder plain.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote x:

'That all the gifts which once to thee were vowed.

['MS. Newstead'.]

[Footnote xi:

'A tawny skin the furious lion's spoil.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xii:

'Mnestheus presented, and the Warrior's mask Alethes gave a doubly temper'd casque.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xiii:

'To glad their journey, follow them in vain.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xiv:

'Dispersed and scattered on the sighing gale.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xv:

'By Bacchus' potent draught weigh'd down at last Half the long night in childish games was past.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xvi:

'--disportive play'd.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xvii:

By hunger prest, the keeper lull'd to sleep In slaughter thus a Lyon's fangs may steep.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xviii:

Through teeming herds unchecked, unawed, he roams.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xix:

Heedless of danger on the herbage feed.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xx:

----'of thee bereft In what dire perils is my brother left.'

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxi:

Then his lov'd boy the ruffian band surround Entangled in the tufted Forest ground.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxii:

'At length a captive to the hostile crew'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxiii:

'The Goddess bright transcending every star'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxiv:

'No object meets them but the earth and skies. He burns for vengeance, rising in his wrath-- Then you, accursed, thy life shall pay for both; Then from the sheath his flaming brand he drew, And on the raging boy defenceless flew. Nisus no more the blackening shade conceals, Forth forth he rushed and all his love reveals; Pale and confused his fear to madness grows, And thus in accents mild he greets his Foes. "On me, on me, direct your impious steel, Let me and me alone your vengeance feel-- Let not a stripling's blood by Chiefs be spilt, Be mine the Death, as mine was all the guilt. By Heaven and Hell, the powers of Earth and Air. Yon guiltless stripling neither could nor dare: Spare him, oh! spare by all the Gods above, A hapless boy whose only crime was Love." He prayed in vain; the fierce assassin's sword Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gored; Drooping to earth inclines his lovely head, O'er his fair curls, the purpling stream is spread. As some sweet lily, by the ploughshare broke Languid in Death, sinks down beneath the stroke; Or, as some poppy, bending with the shower, Gently declining falls a waning flower'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxv:

'Revenge his object'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxvi:

'The assassin's soul'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxvii:

'Then on his breast he sought his wonted place, And Death was lovely in his Friend's embrace'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote xxviii:

'Yours are the fairest wreaths of endless Fame.'

['MS. Newstead'.]]

TRANSLATION FROM THE "MEDEA" OF EURIPIDES [Ll. 627-660].

[Greek: Erotes hyper men agan, K.T.L.[1]]

1.

When fierce conflicting passions urge The breast, where love is wont to glow, What mind can stem the stormy surge Which rolls the tide of human woe? The hope of praise, the dread of shame, Can rouse the tortur'd breast no more; The wild desire, the guilty flame, Absorbs each wish it felt before.

2.

But if affection gently thrills The soul, by purer dreams possest, The pleasing balm of mortal ills In love can soothe the aching breast: If thus thou comest in disguise, [i] Fair Venus! from thy native heaven, What heart, unfeeling, would despise The sweetest boon the Gods have given?

3.

But, never from thy golden bow, May I beneath the shaft expire! Whose creeping venom, sure and slow, Awakes an all-consuming fire: Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears! With others wage internal war; Repentance! source of future tears, From me be ever distant far!

4.

May no distracting thoughts destroy The holy calm of sacred love! May all the hours be winged with joy, Which hover faithful hearts above! Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine May I with some fond lover sigh! Whose heart may mingle pure with mine, With me to live, with me to die!

5.

My native soil! belov'd before, Now dearer, as my peaceful home, Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore, A hapless banish'd wretch to roam! This very day, this very hour, May I resign this fleeting breath! Nor quit my silent humble bower; A doom, to me, far worse than death.

6.

Have I not heard the exile's sigh, And seen the exile's silent tear, Through distant climes condemn'd to fly, A pensive, weary wanderer here? Ah! hapless dame! [2] no sire bewails, No friend thy wretched fate deplores, No kindred voice with rapture hails Thy steps within a stranger's doors.

7.

Perish the fiend! whose iron heart To fair affection's truth unknown, Bids her he fondly lov'd depart, Unpitied, helpless, and alone; Who ne'er unlocks with silver key, [3] The milder treasures of his soul; May such a friend be far from me, And Ocean's storms between us roll!

[Footnote 1: The Greek heading does not appear in 'Hours of Idleness' or 'Poems O. and T'.]

[Footnote 2: 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; though a considerable liberty is taken with the original, by expanding the idea, as also in some other parts of the translation.]

[Footnote 3: The original is [Greek: katharan anoixanta klaeda phren_on,] literally "disclosing the bright key of the mind."]

[Footnote i:

'If thus thou com'st in gentle guise'.

['Hours of Idleness'.]]

LACHIN Y GAIR. [1]

1.

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses! In you let the minions of luxury rove: Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love: Yet, Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains, Round their white summits though elements war: Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.

2.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy, wander'd: My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid; [2] On chieftains, long perish'd, my memory ponder'd, As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade; I sought not my home, till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star; For fancy was cheer'd, by traditional story, Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.

3.

"Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?" Surely, the soul of the hero rejoices, And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale! Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers, Winter presides in his cold icy car: Clouds, there, encircle the forms of my Fathers; They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.

4.

"Ill starr'd, [3] though brave, did no visions foreboding Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?" Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden, [4] Victory crown'd not your fall with applause: Still were you happy, in death's earthy slumber, You rest with your clan, in the caves of Braemar; [5] The Pibroch [6] resounds, to the piper's loud number, Your deeds, on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr.

5.

Years have roll'd on, Loch na Garr, since I left you, Years must elapse, ere I tread you again: Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you, Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain: England! thy beauties are tame and domestic, To one who has rov'd on the mountains afar: Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic, The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr. [7]

[Footnote 1: 'Lachin y Gair', or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, 'Loch na Garr', towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern Highlands, near Invercauld. One of our modern tourists mentions it as the highest mountain, perhaps, in Great Britain. Be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our "Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows. Near Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has given birth to the following stanzas. [Prefixed to the poem in 'Hours of Idleness' and 'Poems O. and T.']

[Footnote 2: This word is erroneously pronounced 'plad'; the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography.]

[Footnote 3: I allude here to my maternal ancestors, "the Gordons," many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the Stuarts. George, the second Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stuart, daughter of James I. of Scotland. By her he left four sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors.]

[Footnote 4: Whether any perished in the Battle of Culloden, I am not certain; but, as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, "pars pro toto."]

[Footnote 5: A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a Castle of Braemar.]

[Footnote 6: The Bagpipe.--'Hours of Idleness'. (See note, p. 133.)]

[Footnote 7: The love of mountains to the last made Byron

"Hail in each crag a friend's familiar face, And Loch na Garr with Ida looked o'er Troy."

'The Island' (1823), Canto II. stanza xii.]

TO ROMANCE.

1.

Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys, Who lead'st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys; At length, in spells no longer bound, I break the fetters of my youth; No more I tread thy mystic round, But leave thy realms for those of Truth.

2.

And yet 'tis hard to quit the dreams Which haunt the unsuspicious soul, Where every nymph a goddess seems, [i] Whose eyes through rays immortal roll; While Fancy holds her boundless reign, And all assume a varied hue; When Virgins seem no longer vain, And even Woman's smiles are true.

3.

And must we own thee, but a name, And from thy hall of clouds descend? Nor find a Sylph in every dame, A Pylades [1] in every friend? But leave, at once, thy realms of air [ii] To mingling bands of fairy elves; Confess that woman's false as fair, And friends have feeling for--themselves?

4.