Translations from Homer/Bacchus, or the Rovers
BACCHUS, OR THE ROVERS.
Of Bacchus will I sing, the son of noble Semele,—
How once beside the waters of the wide and desert sea
Up on a foreland's breezy slope he sunn'd himself; in sooth
Like to a stripling did he seem in just the dawn of youth.
And waving round his forehead fair the jet black locks stream'd out,
And a vest of crimson grain he bare upon his shoulders stout;
Then swiftly o'er the deep blue wave a well-trimm'd galley swept,
And Tuscan rovers were the crew,—their course mischance had kept.
They see him,—to their shipmates nod, and lightly leap ashore,
Then seizing straight aboard their bark with a hearty cheer they bore.
For him they deem'd at least the son of some Jove-nourish'd king,
And sought forsooth in bonds to bind of mortal fashioning!
How once beside the waters of the wide and desert sea
Up on a foreland's breezy slope he sunn'd himself; in sooth
Like to a stripling did he seem in just the dawn of youth.
And waving round his forehead fair the jet black locks stream'd out,
And a vest of crimson grain he bare upon his shoulders stout;
Then swiftly o'er the deep blue wave a well-trimm'd galley swept,
And Tuscan rovers were the crew,—their course mischance had kept.
They see him,—to their shipmates nod, and lightly leap ashore,
Then seizing straight aboard their bark with a hearty cheer they bore.
For him they deem'd at least the son of some Jove-nourish'd king,
And sought forsooth in bonds to bind of mortal fashioning!
But him their stout gyves fettered not, and from his hands and feet
Fell off the withes; then sat he down, his dark eye smiling sweet.
This seen, the master to his mates cried out, and thus did say,
"Fools that we are, what god have we thus bound and borne away?
The gallant bark can hold him not, for either Jove is he,
Or silver-bow'd Apollo, or the ruler of the sea.
Look on that form, and is it, say, like one of earthly mould?—
Oh! no, 'tis beautiful as theirs whom heaven's high places hold.
Unhand him then, my lads, and land on yonder shadowy shore,
Lest in his wrath a storm he rouse, and wake the wild winds' roar."
Fell off the withes; then sat he down, his dark eye smiling sweet.
This seen, the master to his mates cried out, and thus did say,
"Fools that we are, what god have we thus bound and borne away?
The gallant bark can hold him not, for either Jove is he,
Or silver-bow'd Apollo, or the ruler of the sea.
Look on that form, and is it, say, like one of earthly mould?—
Oh! no, 'tis beautiful as theirs whom heaven's high places hold.
Unhand him then, my lads, and land on yonder shadowy shore,
Lest in his wrath a storm he rouse, and wake the wild winds' roar."
He said:—with churlish taunt and foul, the rough old captain cries,
"Peace, idler, peace, thy prating cease—and trust for once thine eyes;
The wind's right aft, then trim the craft, set all your canvass square,
Strain stick and spar—this youngster here shall be my fellows' care1;
He'll reach the Nile I reckon, or his foot on Cyprus set,
Or see the highland north-men, or the men more northward yet;—
—His kinsmen who, and what his wealth, at last I ween he'll tell,
And who his father's sons may be—we'll use our godsend well!"
"Peace, idler, peace, thy prating cease—and trust for once thine eyes;
The wind's right aft, then trim the craft, set all your canvass square,
Strain stick and spar—this youngster here shall be my fellows' care1;
He'll reach the Nile I reckon, or his foot on Cyprus set,
Or see the highland north-men, or the men more northward yet;—
—His kinsmen who, and what his wealth, at last I ween he'll tell,
And who his father's sons may be—we'll use our godsend well!"
He said, and haul'd the mast on end, and up the white sail sent;
The bellying canvass caught the breeze, on—carrying all—they went:
Then chanced to them a startling sight;—a fragrant rill anon
Of wine brake freshly out, and thro' the black bark rippled on,
Sweet-breathing, ay, more sweet than ev'n ambrosia's self the scent—
While mute amaze the seamen seized, and strange bewilderment.
Along the topsail-yard forthwith a vine stretch'd to and fro,
And from the rocking tendrils hung ripe clustered grapes below,
The mast meanwhile dark ivy-shoots with bloom fresh-flowering sheath'd,
Bright rose the fruit thereon, and all the ports2 with sprays were wreath'd.
They saw, and to the master cried, "Medeides run for shore."
But straight the god a lion3 grew, and gave a mighty roar,
Aloft on poop and forecastle—stern ramping;—then he wrought
Down in the waist a shag-neck'd bear, with fearful wonder fraught:
Upstood the bear with hungry howl;—one bulwark, thwart, and hatch,
With eyes that glared right fearfully, the lion kept close watch;
Aft run all hands for very dread, and round the master crowd,
For still his soul wax'd stout and strong, while they with fear were bow'd.
The bellying canvass caught the breeze, on—carrying all—they went:
Then chanced to them a startling sight;—a fragrant rill anon
Of wine brake freshly out, and thro' the black bark rippled on,
Sweet-breathing, ay, more sweet than ev'n ambrosia's self the scent—
While mute amaze the seamen seized, and strange bewilderment.
Along the topsail-yard forthwith a vine stretch'd to and fro,
And from the rocking tendrils hung ripe clustered grapes below,
The mast meanwhile dark ivy-shoots with bloom fresh-flowering sheath'd,
Bright rose the fruit thereon, and all the ports2 with sprays were wreath'd.
They saw, and to the master cried, "Medeides run for shore."
But straight the god a lion3 grew, and gave a mighty roar,
Aloft on poop and forecastle—stern ramping;—then he wrought
Down in the waist a shag-neck'd bear, with fearful wonder fraught:
Upstood the bear with hungry howl;—one bulwark, thwart, and hatch,
With eyes that glared right fearfully, the lion kept close watch;
Aft run all hands for very dread, and round the master crowd,
For still his soul wax'd stout and strong, while they with fear were bow'd.
Forth springing then the lion seized their captain;—overboard,
Shunning the bloody grasp of death, they leap'd with one accord,
Amid the sea,—and straight were chang'd to dolphins, pitying then
He touch'd the master, making him the happiest among men,
And blithely spake, "cheer up, cheer up, thine heart, old shipmate mine,
For dear art thou unto my soul, and I'm the god of wine!
Ay, Bacchus, roaring Bacchus, I—whom erst my mother bare,
The bright Cadmeïan Semele4, Jove's best beloved fair.
Shunning the bloody grasp of death, they leap'd with one accord,
Amid the sea,—and straight were chang'd to dolphins, pitying then
He touch'd the master, making him the happiest among men,
And blithely spake, "cheer up, cheer up, thine heart, old shipmate mine,
For dear art thou unto my soul, and I'm the god of wine!
Ay, Bacchus, roaring Bacchus, I—whom erst my mother bare,
The bright Cadmeïan Semele4, Jove's best beloved fair.
Hail! child of rosy Semele5!—for how shall bard essay,
Forgetting thee, to wake the lute or dulcet roundelay!
Forgetting thee, to wake the lute or dulcet roundelay!