Ma io di già houvi turbato affai,
Ne tentar of un piu fublime Canto.
Phù dolce Thema il basso verfo chiedemi,
Fioriti prati, o gorgoglianti rivi,
Mal proprio per gli Eroi: che i Carmi eterni
Qual di Virgilio, o Veftri onorar debbono.
But I've already troubled you too long
Nor dare attempt a more advent'rous fong.
My humble verse demands a fofter theme,
A painted meadow, or a purling ftream;
Unfit for Heroes; whom immortal lays,
And lines like Virgil's, or like yours, hou'd praif
Milton's Style imitated, in a Tranflation of a Story out of the Third Encid.
LOST in the gloomy horror of the night
We ftruck upon the coaft where Etna lies
Horrid and wafte, its entrails fraught with fire,
That now cafts out dark fumes and pitchy clouds,
Vaft showers of ashes hov'ring in the smoke;
Now belches molten ftones and ruddy Alame
Incenft, or tears up mountains by the roots,
Or flings a broken rock aloft in air.
The bottom works with fmother'd fire, involv'd
In peftilential vapours, ftench and smoke.
'Tis faid, that thunder-ftruck Enceladus
Groveling beneath th' incumbent mountain's weight
Lyes ftretch'd fupine, eternal prey of flames;
And when he heaves against the burning load,
Reluctant, to invert his broiling limbs,
A fudden earthquake shoots through all the Ifle,
And Etna thunders dreadful under ground,
Then pours out smoke in wreathing curls convolv'd,
And fhades the Sun's bright orb, and blots out Day.
Here in the fhelter of the woods we lodg'd,
And frighted heard ftrange founds and dismal yells,
Nor faw from whence they came; for all the night
A murky ftorm deep louring o'er our heads
Hung imminent, that with impervious gloom
Oppos'd it felf to Cynthia's filver ray,
And fhaded all beneath. But now the Sun
With orient beams had chas'd the dewy night
From earth and heav'n; all nature ftood disclos'd:
When looking on the neighb'ring woods we faw
The ghaftly vifage of a man unknown,
An uncouth feature, meagre, pale, and wild; "
Affliction's foul and terrible difmay
Sate in his looks, his face impair'd and worn
With marks of famine, fpeaking fore diftrefs;
His locks were tangled, and his fhaggy beard
Matted with filth, in all things else a Greek.
He first advanc'd in hafte; but, when he faw
Trojans and Trojan arms, in mid career
Stopt short, he back recoil'd as one furpriz’d:
But foon recovering speed, he ran, he flew
Precipitant, and thus with piteous cries**
Our ears affail'd: "By heav'n's eternal fires,"
By ev'ry God that fits enthron'd on high,
"By this good light, relieve a wretch forlorn,
"And bear me hence to any diftant shore,
So I may fhun this favage race accurst.
E 4
" 'Tis true I fought among the Greeks that late "With fword and fire o'erturn'd Neptunian Troy, "And laid the labour of the Gods in duft;
"For which, if fo the fad offence deferves,
Plung'd in the deep, for ever let me lye
"Whelm'd under feas; if death must be my doom, Let Man infli& it, and I die well-pleas'd.
He ended here, and now profuse of tears
In fuppliant mood fell proftrate at our feet:
We bade him fpeak from whence, and what he was,
And how by ftrefs of fortune funk thus low;
Anchifes too with friendly afpect mild
Gave him his hand, fare pledge of amity;
When, thus encouraged, he began his tale.
I'm one, fays be, of poor defcent, my name
Is Achamenides, my country Greece,
Ulyffes' fad compear, who whilft he fled
The raging Cyclops, left me here behind
Difconfolate, forlorn; within the cave
He left me, giant Polypheme's dark cave;
A dungeon wide and horrible, the walls
On all fides furr'd with mouldy damps, and hung
With clots of ropy gore, and human limbs,
His dire repast himself of mighty fize,
Hoarfe in his voice, and in his vifage grim,
Intractable, that riots on the flesh
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