Page images




From the Latin of Addison.



pygmy-people, and the feather'd train, Mingling in mortal combat on the plain, I sing. Ye Muses, favour my designs, Lead on my squadrons, and arrange the lines; The flashing swords and fluttering wings display, And long bills nibbling in the bloody fray ; Cranes darting with disdain on tiny foes, Conflicting birds and men, and war's unnumber'd wocs.

The wars and woes of heroes six feet long Have oft resounded in Pieriau song.

Who has not heard of Colchos' golden fleece,
And Argo mann'd with all the flower of Greece ?
Of Thebes' fell brethren, Theseus stern of face,
And Peleus' son unrival'd in the race,
Eneas founder of the Roman line,
And William glorious on the banks of Boyne ?
Who has not learn'd to weep at Pompey's woes,
And over Blackmore's Epic page to doze ?
'Tis I, who dare attempt unusual strains,
Of hosts unsung, and unfrequented plains ;
The small shrill trump, and chiefs of little size,
And armies rushing down the darken'd skies.

Where India reddens to the early dawn,
Winds a deep vale from vulgar eye withdrawn :
Bosom'd in groves the lowly region lies,
And rocky mountains round the border rise.
Here, till the doom of Fate its fall decreed,
The empire flourish'd of the pygmy-breed;
Here Industry perform’d, and Genius plannid,
And busy multitudes o’erspread the land.
But now to these lone bounds if pilgrim stray,
Tempting through craggy cliffs the desperate way,

He finds the puny mansion fallen to earth,
Its godlings mouldering on th' abandon'd hearth ;
And starts, where small white bones are spread around,
“ Or little footsteps lightly print the ground;"
While the proud crane her nest securely builds,
Chattering amid the desolated fields.
But different fates befel her hostile

While reign’d, invincible through many an age,
The dreaded Pygmy : roused by war’s alarms
Forth rush'd the madding Mannikin to arms.
Fierce to the field of death the hero flies;
The faint crane fluttering flaps the ground, and dies;
And by the victor borne (o’erwhelming load !)
With bloody bill loose-dangling marks the road.
And oft the wily dwarf in ambush lay,
And often made the callow



prey ; With slaughter'd victims heap'd his board, and smiled T'avenge the parent's trespass on the child. Oft, where his feather’d foe had rear'd her nest, And laid her eggs and household gods to rest, Burning for blood, in terrible array, The eighteen-inch militia burst their way:

All went to wreck; the infant foeman fell,
Whence scarce his chirping bill had broke the shell.

Loud uproar hence, and rage of arms arose,
And the fell rancour of encountering foes;
Hence dwarfs and cranes one general havoc whelms,
And Death's grim visage scares the pigmy-realms.
Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire
Of Mice, high theme of the Meonian lyre;
When bold to battle march'd th'accouter'd frogs,
And the deep tumult thunder'd through the bogs.
Pierced by the javelin bulrush on the shore
Here agonizing rollid the mouse in gore;
And there the frog (a scene full sad to see !)
Shorn of one leg, slow sprawld along on three :
He vaults no more with vigorous hopes on high,
But mourns in hoarsest croaks his destiny.

And now the day of wo drew on apace, A day of wo to all the pigmy-race, When dwarfs were doom'd (but penitence was vain) To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain. For roused to vengeance by repeated wrong From distant climes the long-bill'd regions throng:

From Strymon's lake, Cäyster's plashy meads,
And fens of Scythia green with rustling reeds;
From where the Danube winds through many a land,
And Mareotis laves th’Egyptiari strand,
To rendezvous they waft on eager wing,
And wait assembled the returning spring.
Meanwhile they trim their plumes for length of flight,
Whet their keen beaks, and twisting claws, for fight;
Each crane the pygmy power in thought o'erturns,
And every bosom for the battle burns.

When genial gales the frozen air unbind,
The screaming legions wheel, and mount the wind.
Far in the sky they form their long array,
And land and ocean stretch'd immense survey
Deep deep beneath; and, triumphing in pride,
With clouds and winds commix'd, innumerous ride;
'Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven
Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven.

Nor less th' alarm that shook the world below, Where march'd in pomp of war th’ embattled foe; Where mannikins with haughty step advance, And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »