MAY my solemn strain ascending Please the long-hair'd Helen well, And those brave twins of Leda's shell The stranger's holy cause defending! -- With whose high name the chorus blending To ancient Agragas shall rise, And Theron for the chariot prize Again, and not in vain, contending. -- The muse, in numbers bold and high, Hath taught my Dorian note to fly, Worthy of silent awe, a strange sweet harmony. -- Yes! -- as I fix mine eager view On yonder wreath of paly blue, That olive wreath, whose shady round Amid the courser's mane is bound; I feel again the sacred glow That bids my strain of rapture flow, With shrilly breath of Spartan flute, The many-voiced harp to suit; And wildly fling my numbers sweet, Again mine ancient friend to greet. -- Nor, Pisa, thee I leave unsung; To men the parent of renown. Amid whose shady ringlets strung, Etolia binds her olive crown; Whose sapling root from Scythian down And Ister's fount Alcides bare, To deck his parent's hallow'd town; With placid brow and suppliant prayer Soothing the favour'd northern seed, Whose horny-hoofed victims bleed, To Phoebus of the flowing hair. A boon from these the Hero pray'd: One graft of that delightful tree; To Jove's high hill a welcome shade, To men a blessed fruit to be, And crown of future victory. -- For that fair moon, whose slender light With inefficient horn had shone, When late on Pisa's airy height He rear'd to Jove the altar stone; Now, through the dappled air, alone, In perfect ring of glory bright, Guided her golden-wheeled throne; The broad and burning eye of night. -- And now the days were told aright, When Alpheus, from his sandy source, Should judge the champion's eager might, And mark of wheels the rolling force. -- Nor yet a tree to cheer the sight The Cronian vale of Pelops bore! -- Obnoxious to the noonday weight Of summer suns, a naked shore. -- But she who sways the silent sky, Latona's own equestrian maid Beheld how far Alcides stray'd, Bound on adventure strange and high; Forth from the glens of Arcady To Istrian rocks in ice array'd He urged the interminable race, (Such penance had Eurystheus laid,) The golden-horned hind to chase, Which, grateful for Diana's aid, By her redeem'd from foul embrace, Old Atlas' daughter hallowed. -- Thus, following where the quarry fled, Beyond the biting north he pass'd, Beyond the regions of the blast, And, all unknown to traveller's tread, He saw the blessed land at last. -- He stopp'd, he gazed with new delight When that strange verdure met his sight; And soft desire inflamed his soul (Where twelve-times round the chariots roll) To plant with such the Pisan goal. But now, unseen to mortal eyes, He comes to Theron's sacrifice; And with him brings to banquet there High-bosom'd Leda's knightly pair. -- Himself to high Olympus bound, To these a latest charge he gave, A solemn annual feast to found, And of contending heroes round To deck the strong, the swift, the brave. -- Nor doubt I that on Theron's head, And on the good Eumenides, The sons of Jove their blessing shed; Whom still, with bounteous tables spread, That holy tribe delight to please; Observing with religious dread The hospitable god's decrees. But, wide as water passeth earthy clay, Or sun-bright gold transcendeth baser ore: Wide as from Greece to that remotest shore Whose rock-built pillars own Alcides' sway; Thy fame hath pass'd thine equals! -- To explore The further ocean all in vain essay, Or fools or wise; -- here from thy perilous way Cast anchor here, my bark! I dare no more! -- |