And piercing cries amid the swift pursuit Of beasts among waste mountains, such delight Is hers, and men who know and do the right. Nor Saturn's first-born daughter, Vesta chaste, Whom Neptune and Apollo wooed the last, She sits and feeds luxuriously. O'er all but in return, In Venus Jove did soft desire awaken, Burn for a nursling of mortality. And boasting said, that she, secure the while, Could bring at will to the assembled gods The mortal tenants of earth's dark abodes, And mortal offspring from a deathless stem She could produce in scorn and spite of them. Therefore he poured desire into her breast Of young Anchises, Tritogenia, town-preserving maid, Golden, all radiant! wonder strange possessed The everlasting Gods that shape to see, move Beneath the might of the Cerulean-eyed; Earth dreadfully resounded, far and wide; And, lifted from its depths, the sea swelled high In purple billows, the tide suddenly Stood still, and great Hyperion's son long time Checked his swift steeds, till where she stood sublime, Pallas from her immortal shoulders threw The arms divine; wise Jove rejoiced to view. Child of the Ægis-bearer, hail to thee, Nor thine nor other's praise shall unremembered be. HOMER'S HYMN TO THE SUN OFFSPRING of Jove, Calliope, once more To the bright Sun thy hymn of music pour, Whom to the child of star-clad Heaven and Earth Euryphaëssa, large-eyed nymph, brought forth; Euryphaëssa, the famed sister fair Whose arms are like twin roses newly born, Who borne by heavenly steeds his race doth run Unconquerably, illuming the abodes Fiercely look forth his awe-inspiring eyes Beneath his golden helmet, whence arise And are shot forth afar clear beams of light; His countenance with radiant glory bright Beneath his graceful locks far shines around, And the light vest with which his limbs are bound, THE CYCLOPS; A SATYRIC DRAMA TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES The Cyclops was translated in 1819, and published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824. Shelley read it to Williams, November 5, 1821. He writes of it and the whole subject of translation to Hunt, November, 1819: With respect to translation, even I will not be seduced by it; although the Greek plays, and some of the ideal dramas of Calderon (with which I have lately, and with inexpressible wonder and delight, become acquainted), are perpetually tempting me to throw over their perfect and glowing forms the gray veil of my own words. And you know me too well to suspect that I refrain from a belief that what I could substitute for them would deserve the regret which yours would, if suppressed. I have confidence in my moral sense alone; but that is a kind of originality. I have only translated The Cyclops of Euripides, when I could absolutely do nothing else, and the Symposium of Plato, which is the delight and astonishinent of all who read it, I mean the original.' SILENUS ULYSSES CHORUS OF SATYRS THE CYCLOPS SILENUS Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain Made white with foam the green and purple sea. And so we sought you, king. We were sailing Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose, To be his slaves; and so, for all delight My sons indeed, on far declivities, But I remain to fill the water casks, With this great iron rake, so to receive CHORUS OF SATYRS Where has he of race divine For the father of the flocks; Of the lawny uplands feeding? Will I throw to mend your breeding; Get along, you horned thing, Wild, seditious, rambling! |