SPECIMENS OF TRANSLATION FROM MEDEA. Σκαιες δε λεγων, κεδέν το σοφες TELL me, ye bards, whose skill sublime First charmed the ear of youthful Time, With numbers wrapt in heavenly fire, Who bade delighted echo swell. The trembling transports of the lyre The murmur of the shell Why to the burst of Joy alone Accords sweet Music's soothing tone? Why can no bard, with magic strain, In slumbers steep the heart of pain? Your golden lute, with ravish'd ear? Oh! has your sweetest shell no power to bind The fiercer pangs that shake the mind, And lull the wrath, at whose command Murder bares her gory hand? When flush'd with joy, the rosy throng Weave the light dance, ye swell the song! |