FRAGMENT FROM THE GREEK OF ARISTOTLE.
F there were beings who lived in the depths of the earth, in dwell
Iings adorned with statues and paintings, and every thing which is
possessed in rich abundance by those whom we esteem fortunate; and if these beings could receive tidings of the power and might of the gods. and could then emerge from their hidden dwellings through the open fissures of the earth, to the places which we inhabit; if they could suddenly behold the earth, and the sea, and the vault of heaven; could recognize the expanse of the cloudy firmament, and the might of the winds of heaven, and admire the sun in its majesty, beauty, and radiant effulgence; and, lastly, when night vailed the earth in darkness, they could behold the starry heavens, the changing moon, and the stars rising and setting in the unvarying course ordained from eternity, they would surely exclaim, "There are gods, and such great things must be the work of their hands."
Translation from HUMBOLDT's "Cosmos."
THE CREATION OF THE EARTH.
Be gather'd now, ye waters under heav'n, Into one place, and let dry land appear. Immediately the mountains huge appear Emergent, and their broad backs upheave Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky. So high as heav'd the tumid hills, so low Down sunk a hollow bottom, broad and deep, Capacious bed of waters: thither they Hasted with glad precipitance, uproll'd As drops on dust conglobing from the dry: Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct, For haste; such flight the great command imprest On the swift floods; as armies at the call Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard) Troop to their standard, so the wat'ry throng, Wave rolling after wave, where way they found; If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain, Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill, But they, or under ground, or circuit wide With serpent error wand'ring, found their way, And on the washy ooze deep channels wore, Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, All but within those banks, where rivers now Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train. The dry land Earth, and the great receptacle Of congregated waters he call'd Seas;
And saw that it was good, and said, Let th' earth Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed, And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind; Whose seed is in herself upon the earth.
He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn'd, Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad Her universal face with pleasant green; Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'd, Op'ning their various colors, and made gay Her bosom smelling sweet; and these scarce blown, Forth flourish'd thick the clust ring vine, forth crept The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed Embattl'd in her field; and th' humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit : last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemm'd
Their blossoms: with high wood the hills were crown'd;
With tufts the valleys and each fountain side,
With borders 'long the rivers: that earth now
Seem'd like to heav'n, a seat where Gods might dwell
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Harp! lift thy voice on high,
And run in rapid numbers o'er the face Of Nature's scenery; and there were day And night, and rising suns, and setting suns; And clouds that seemed like chariots of saints, By fiery coursers drawn-as brightly head As if the glorious, lusty, golden locks
Of thousand cherubims had been shorn off,
And on the temples hung of morn and even;
And there were moons, and stars, and darkness streaked With light; and voice of tempest heard secure.
And there were seasons coming evermore,
And going still-all fair and always new,
With bloom, and fruit, and fields of hoary grain. And there were hills of flocks, and groves of song; And flowery streams, and garden walks embowered, Where side by side the rose and lily bloomed. And sacred founts, wild hills, and moonlight glens; And forests vast, fair lawns, and lovely oaks, And little willows sipping at the brook; Old wizard haunts, and dancing seats of mirth;
Gay, festive bowers, and palaces in dust; Dark owlet nooks, and caves, and belted rocks;
And winding valleys, roofed with pendent shade; And tall and perilous cliffs, that overlooked
The breath of Ocean, sleeping on his waves.
Sounds, sights, smells, tastes; the heaven and earth, profuse
In endless sweets, above all praise of song:
For not to use alone did Providence
Abound, but large example gave to man
Of grace, and ornament, and splendor rich; Suited abundantly to every taste
In bird, beast, fish, winged and creeping thing; In herb and flower; and in the restless change Which on the many-colored seasons made The annual circuit of the fruitful earth.
ROBERT POLLOCK, 1799-1827.
He also graved on it a fallow field,
Rich, spacious, and well tilled. Plowers not few, There driving to and fro their sturdy teams, Labor'd the land; and oft as in their course
They came to the field's bourn, so oft a man Met them, who in their hands a goblet placed, Charged with delicious wine. They, turning, wrought Each his own furrow, and impatient seem'd To reach the border of the tilth, which black Appear'd behind them as a glebe new-turn'd, Though golden, sight to be admired by all!
There, too, he form'd the likeness of a field, Crowded with corn, in which the reapers toil'd Each with a sharp-tooth'd sickle in his hand. Along the furrow here the harvest fell
In frequent handfuls, there they bound the sheaves. Three binders of the sheaves their sultry task All plied industrious, and behind them boys Attended, filling with the corn their arms, And offering still their bundles to be bound. Amid them, staff in hand, the master stood Silent exulting, while beneath an oak Apart, his heralds busily prepared The banquet, dressing a well-thriven ox, New slain, and the attendant maidens mix'd Large supper for the hinds of whitest flour.
There, also, laden with its fruit, he form'd A vineyard all of gold; purple he made The clusters, and the vines supported, stood By poles of silver set in even rows. The trench he color'd sable, and around Fenced it with tin. One only path it show'd
By which the gatherers, when they stripp'd the vines, Pass'd and repass'd. There, youths and maidens blithe, In pails of wicker bore the luscious fruit,
While in the midst a boy, on his shrill harp, Harmonious play'd; still as he struck the chord, Carolling to it with a slender voice,
They smote the ground together, and with song And sprightly reed came dancing on behind.
There, too, a herd he fashion'd of tall beeves, Part gold, part tin; they, lowing, from the stalls Rush'd forth to pasture by a river-side, Rapid, sonorous, fringed with whispering reeds. Four golden herdsmen drove the kine a-field, By nine swift dogs attended. Dreadful sprang Two lions forth, and of the foremost herd, Seized fast a bull. Him, bellowing, they dragg'd, While dogs and peasants all flew to his aid. The lions tore the hide of the huge prey, And lapp'd his entrails and his blood. Meantime The herdsmen, troubling them in vain, their hounds Encouraged; but no tooth for lion's flesh
Found they, and therefore stood aside and bark'd.
There, also, the illustrious smith divine
Amidst a pleasant grove a pasture found
Spacious, and sprinkled o'er with silver sheep
Numerous, and stalls, and huts, and shepherds' tents.
Translation of WILLIAM COWPER.
Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwell in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. His quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from distraction; once I loved Torn Ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring
Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
It is the hush of night, and all between
Thy margin and the mountains, dusk. yet clear,
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