In terraced pomp before the Cyprian And Benytas of ane mussil made an ape, queen, Rose twelve bright stages, as the emerald green; Above them waved, most glorious to behold, With many other subtle mow and jaip. What connection these amusements of the astrologers are supposed to have with the Palace of Honour, it would be Three wondrous trees with leaves of hopeless to inquire. The poet now presses on to an eminence, from which he beholds the attempts of the multitude to scale its walls, and the disasters with which they are accompanied, Equity stands as warder on the battlements, denouncing vengeance against Envy, Falsehood, and Covetousness; Patience officiates as porter, and instantly admits give the description of the palace, and the monarch, King Honour, who inhabits it, in a modern garb. This mirror reflects the shadowy train of past ages-the most remarkable events recorded in history float over its surface and the poet, of course, be-him and his conductress. We shall holds an infinite variety of incongruous personages. Amongst the ancient warlike worthies, the supporters of the authenticity of Ossian will be pleased to discover the mighty Fingal, and Gaul the son of Morni; Great Gowmakmorne, and Fyn Mac-Cowl; and how "Thai suld be goddis in Ireland, as thai say." In high relief of rich and massive gold, The borders round the doors and windows shone ; Each tower and turret, beauteous to behold, Of polish'd ivory form'd-ne was there one That did not show, inlaid its walls upon, It reflects, also, the necromantic tricks Bright shapes of birds, midst sweet of the famous Roger Bacon and other astrologers, who are seen diverting enamell'd flowers, And curious knots, carved in the snowwhite bone, themselves by many subtle points of With matchless cunning, by the artist's juggling, changing a nutmeg into a monk, and a penny pie into a parish church : The necromancy there saw I eke anone, With many subtel point of jugglery; stone, Ane great laid saddle of a chicken bone; powers So perfect and so pure were Honour's lordly bowers. But pass we on-the nymph and I did wend Straight to the hall-and climb'd a radiant stair, Form'd all of topaz clear--from end to end. The gate was shut--but through a lattice there Of beryl, gazing, a transcendent glare Broke dazzlingly on mine astonished sight. And soft she bore me to inhale the tide Of the fresh air-she deem'd I would have died, A room I saw-but oh, what tongue So sudden and so deadly pale I grew ; shall dare But fondly each reviving art she tried, To paint that chamber, so surpassing And bathed my brow with Heliconian dew, bright! Till, faint and slow, mine eyes unclosed to meet her view. Sure never such a view was given to mortal wight. The vision now hastens to a conclu From every part combined, roof, wall, sion. On his recovery, the poet, under and floor, A flood of light most gloriously was cast; pour, the protection of her who has so faithfully conducted him, proposes to visit a delightful garden, where the Muses are employed in gathering the choicest Blinded I stood awhile: that sight flowers of poesy, which spring beneath surpast Aught that in Eastern story read thou hast Of richest palace, or of gorgeous stall; On diamond pillars, tall as any mast, Clustering, and bound with ropes of rubies all, trees bearing precious stones instead of fruit. In the description of this retreat there is a strange admixture of the beautiful and the ridiculous. The scenery is sweetly painted; but what shall we say of the trees on which The sapphire arches leant of that celestial geese or chickens are seen growing-to Sat Honour; mighty prince, with look has not yet recovered the effects of his severe, swoon, in making the attempt, slips a And deep-set awful eye, whose glance foot, and is immersed in the stream. alone So full of might, and glorious did appear, Within her snowy arms that Lady sweet This effectually awakens him from the trance into which he had fallen, and restores his senses to the sober realities of a lower sphere. He then, according to poetic use and wont, describes his wondrous vision, and lays it at the feet of his sovereign, James IV. THE TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL'S ENEID. In his interview with Venus în the Palace of Honour, Douglas informs us that the goddess presented him, as the richest gift she could bestow, with a copy of Virgil's Æneid, commanding him to translate it into his native language -a task, says Dr Irving, which he has performed with much felicity. "To pronounce it," continues this learned critic, "the best version of this wonderful poem which ever was or ever will be executed, would be ridiculous; but it is certainly the production of a bold and energetic writer, whose knowledge of the language of his original, and command of a rich and variegated phraseology, peculiarly qualified him for the performance of so arduous a task. Indeed, whether we consider the state of British literature at that era, or the rapidity with which he completed the work (it was the labour of but sixteen months), he will be found entitled to a high degree of admiration." Douglas translated The Æneid at the request of his cousin Henry, Lord Sinclair, to whom he addresses a dedicatory epistle at the end, in which he records his motive for undertaking the work as follows:- But touching this our work now in hand, Whilk oft is said was made at your command, To what effect gif any would inquire, me, And other gentle companions who sae list: Nane are compelled to drink, but they have thirst; And whoso likes may tasting of the tun In a short Epilogue, he makes it plain that he considers it his most important poetical achievement, and predicts that When that unknown day shall him address, Whilk not but on this body power has, And ends the date of mine uncertain eild, The better part of me shall be upheld, Above the starns perpetually to ring; And hear my name remain but enparing. Throughout the isle yclepit Albione Shall I be read and sung by many one. He also adds full particulars as to the time it took him to compose, and the exact date on which it was finished; and in the Prologue to the thirteenth book, after recording his misgivings about having thereby too long neglected more serious studies, he anticipates the conclusion of his work That I may syne but on grave matters look. Some of his Prologues, one of which prefaces each book of The Æneid, contain his best descriptive poetry, particularly those introducing the seventh, twelfth, and thirteenth books. That of the twelfth, which is a description of May, is best known; but we have selected the descriptive portions of that of the thirteenth, which is shorter and simpler, and, referring to the month of June, retains much of the poetical features of the description of May. To the specimen of the translation of The Eneid, we have added the same passage, as translated by Dryden, as a means of comparing the earliest with the most classical English translation. CHARON AND HIS OFFICE. [Unaltered Specimen.} Fra thine strekis the way profound anone, Drumly of mude, and skaldand as it war wode,4 Populand and boukands furth of athir hand, Unto Cocytas al his slike and sand: Thir riveris and thir watteris kepit war Als fery and als swipper1 as ane page. For in ane God the age is fresche and grene, Infatigabil and immortall as thay mene. Thidder to the bray swermyta al the rout Of dede goistis, and stude the bank about : Baith matrouns, and thar husbandis al yferis, 3 Ryall princis, and nobyl cheveleris, Small childer and young damisellis unwed, Als grete nowmer thidder thikkit infere, Into some benar realme and warm cuntre. Thare stude they prayand sum support to get, That they micht wyth the formest ouer be set, And gan upheving pietuously handis tway, Langand to be upoun the forthir bray.7 Bot this soroufull boteman, wyth bryme luke, 8 Now thir, now thame, within his weschell tuke; And uthir sum expellit, and made do stand, Fer from the river syde apoun the sand. Awounderit of this sterage, and the preis, Say me, virgine, sayd Enee, or thou ceis, Quhat menis sic confluence on this wattir syde? Quhat wald thir saulis? quhy will they not abyde? Be quhais mychtys the Goddis ar ful An airy crowd came rushing where he laith, stood, And dredis sare to swere, syne fals thare Which filled the margin of the fatal flood: Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried aith: Al thir thou seis stoppit at the schore, maids, And mighty heroes' more majestic shades; And youths, intombed before their father's eyes, With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries. Thick as the leaves in autumn strew the woods, Or fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, Wavrand and wandrand by this bankis And wing their hasty flight to happier lands Such, and so thick, the shivering army stands, And press for passage with extended hands. Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore: The rest he drove to distance from the shore. The hero, who beheld with wondering eyes, The tumult mixed with shrieks, laments and cries, Asked of his guide, what the rude concourse meant? Why to the shore the thronging people bent? What forms of law among the ghosts were used? |