Caldi di vita così ne sfavillano,
Di soggetto in soggetto, d' un segreto
Piacer preso, e infiammato attorno io giro
Tra la soave varietà perduto.
Mio strabilito spirto qua confondono
Arie vezzose in circolanti note
Passeggianti, e in sonori labirinti.
Cupole, e Templi s' alzan la in distanti
Vedute, ed in Palagi aperti, ed ampli
A celebrargli invitano la Musa.
Come indulgente Cielo adornò mai
La fortunata terra, e sovra quella
Versò benedizioni a piena mana!
Ma che vaglion le lor dovizie eterne,
Fioriti monti, e soleggiate rive
Con tutti don, che Cielo, e Suol compartono,
I risi di Natura, e i vezzi d'Arte,
Mentre altiera Oppression regna in sue Valli, E Tirannia suoi Pian felici usurpa?
Il povreo Abitante mira indarno
Il rosseggiante Arancio, e 'l pingue Grano,
Crescer dolente ei mira ed oli, e vini,
E de mirti odorar l'ombra si sdegna.
In mezzo alla Bontà della Natura
Maledetto languisce, e dentro a cariche
Di vino vigne muore per la sete.
O Libertà, o Dea Celeste, e Bella!
Di ben profusa, e pregna di diletto!
Piaceri eterni te presente regnano.
Guida tuo gaio tren lieta dovizia
Vien nel suo peso Suggezion piu lieve;
Povertà sembra allegra in tua veduta ;
Fai di Natura ill viso oscuro gaio;
Doni al Sole bellezza, al giorno gioia.
Te Dea, te la Britannia Isola adora,
Come ha sovente ella ogni ben suo esausto,
E spesso t' ha di morte in campi cerco !
Niuno pensa il tuo possente pregio
A troppo caro prezzo esser comprato.
Puo sopra esteri monti il Sole i grappoli
Per dolce sugo maturare a vino;
Where from the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with life his blended colours glow.
From theme to theme with secret pleasure tost,
Amidst the soft variety I'm lost:
Here pleasing airs my ravisht soul confound
With circling notes and labyrinths of sound;
Here domes and temples rise in distant views,
And opening palaces invite my muse.
How has kind Heaven adorned the happy land,
And scattered blessings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains and her sunny shores,
With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart,
The smiles of nature, and the charms of art,
While proud oppression in her valleys reigns,
And tyranny usurps her happy plains?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain
The reddening orange and the swelling grain:
Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines:
Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst,
And in the loaden vineyard dies for thirst.
O Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright,
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign,
And smiling plenty leads thy wanton train;
Eased of her load, subjection grows more light,
And poverty looks cheerful in thy sight;
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay,
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
Thee, goddess, thee, Britannia's isle adores;
How has she oft exhausted all her stores,
How oft in fields of death thy presence sought,
Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought!
On foreign mountains may the sun refine
The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine,
Di boschi di dedrati ornare il suolo,
Gonfiar la grassa oliva in flutti d'olio;
Non invidiamo il piu fervente Clima
Dell' Etere piu dolce in dieci gradi;
Di nostro Ciel maledizion non duolmi,
Ne a Noi in capo Pleiadi ghiacciate,
Corona Libertà la Britann' Isola,
E fa sue steril bianche rupi ridere.
Le torreggianti Moli altrui dilettino,
E le superbe ambiziose Cupole,
Un gentil colpo a una vil tela dare,
Od insegnar Sassi animati a vivere.
D' Europa sul destin vegliar Britannia
Ha cura, e bilanciar gli Emuli Stati;
Di guerra minacciare arditi Regi;
Degli afflitti Vicini udire i preghi.
Dano, e Sveco attaccati in fiere Allarme
Di lor armi pietose benedicono
La prudente Condotta, e 'l buon Governo.
Tosto che poi le nostre Flotte appaiono,
Cessano tutti i lor spaventi, e in Pace
Tutto il Settentrional Mondo si giace.
L'ambizioso Gallo con segreto
Tremito vede all' aspirante sua
Testa mirar di lei il Gran Tonante,
E volentieri i suoi divini Figli
Vorrebbe disuniti per straniero
Oro, o pur per domestica contesta.
Ma acquistare, o dividere in van provasi,
Cui l'arme di Nassò, e 'l senno guida.
Del nome acceso, cui sovente ho trovo
Remoti Climi, e lingue risonare,
Con pena imbriglio mia lottante Musa,
Che ama lanciarsi in piu ardita prova.
Ma io di già hovvi turbato assai,
Ne tentar oso un piu sublime Canto.
Più dolce Thema il basso verso chiedemi,
Fioriti prati, o gorgoglianti rivi,
Mal proprio per gli Eroi: che i Carmi eterni
Qual di Virgilio, o Vostri onorar debbono.
With citron groves adorn a distant soil,
And the fat olive swell with floods of oil:
We envy not the warmer clime, that lies
In ten degrees of more indulgent skies,
Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine,
Though o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine:
'Tis liberty that crowns Britannia's isle,
And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile.
Others with towering piles may please the sight,
And in their proud, aspiring domes delight;
A nicer touch to the stretched canvass give,
Or teach their animated rocks to live:
'Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate,
And hold in balance each contending state,
To threaten bold, presumptuous kings with war,
And answer her afflicted neighbours' prayer.
The Dane and Swede, roused up by fierce alarms,
Bless the wise conduct of her pious arms:
Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease,
And all the northern world lies hushed in
The ambitious Gaul beholds with secret dread
Her thunder aimed at his aspiring head,
And fain her godlike sons would disunite
By foreign gold, or by domestic spite;
But strives.in vain to conquer or divide,
Whom Nassau's arms defend and counsels guide.
Fired with the name, which I so oft have found
The distant climes and different tongues resound,
I bridle in my struggling muse with pain,
That longs to launch into a bolder strain.
But I've already troubled you too long,
Nor dare attempt a more adventurous song.
My humble verse demands a softer theme,
A painted meadow, or a purling stream ;
Unfit for heroes, whom immortal lays,
And lines like Virgil's, or like yours, should praise.
MILTON'S STYLE IMITATED,1
A STORY OUT OF THE THIRD ENEID.
Lost in the gloomy horror of the night,
We struck upon the coast where Etna lies,
Horrid and waste, its entrails fraught with fire,
That now casts out dark fumes and pitchy clouds,
Vast showers of ashes hovering in the smoke;
Now belches molten stones and ruddy flame,
Incenst, or tears up mountains by the roots,
Or slings a broken rock aloft in air.
The bottom works with smothered fire involved
In pestilential vapours, stench, and smoke.
'Tis said, that thunder-struck Enceladus
Groveling beneath the incumbent mountain's weight,
Lies stretched supine, eternal prey of flames;
And, when he heaves against the burning load,
Reluctant, to invert his broiling limbs,
A sudden earthquake shoots through all the isle,
And Etna thunders dreadful under-ground,
Then pours out smoke in wreathing curls convolved,
And shades the sun's bright orb, and blots out day.
Here in the shelter of the woods we lodged,
And frighted heard strange sounds and dismal yells,
Nor saw from whence they came; for all the night
A murky storm deep lowering o'er our heads
Hung imminent, that with impervious gloom
Opposed itself to Cynthia's silver ray,
And shaded all beneath. But now the sun
With orient beams had chased the dewy night
1 Milton's style imitated,]—very imperfectly. What we find, is the stiffness and rigour of Milton's style, somewhat eased and suppled by the grace of Mr. Addison's, but without the numbers or the force of that great poet.
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