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PASSAGES FOR TRANSLATION
INTO GREEK TRAGIC TROCHAIC VERSE
RICHARD PLANTAGENET DUKE OF YORK
thoughts, and change misdoubt to resolution : be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art resign to death,-it is not worth the enjoying: let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man, and find no harbour in a royal heart. Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought on
thought; and not a thought but thinks on dignity. My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done, to send me packing with a host of men : I fear me, you but warm the starvéd snake, who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lack’d, and you will give them me: I take it kindly ; yet, be well assur'd you put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
ISABELLA-HER TWO SONS, DON CÆSAR AND
'Tis well ! obey the demon in your hearts !
Passages for Translation into Greek Trochaics 431
with horrid image—thus they lived and died !' 1088C. Thou art my elder-speak-without dishonour
I yield to thee.
One gracious word, and instant,
Say not so !
thy words were prouder, if thy soul were mean. C. It burns indignant at the thought of wrong ;
but thou-methinks, in passion's fiercest mood,
'twas aught but scorn that harboured in thy breast. M. Oh, had I known thy spirit thus to peace
inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn
a mother's heart ! C.
I find thee just and true: men spoke thee proud of soul. M.
The curse of greatness ! ears ever open to the babbler's tale.
Thou art too proud to meanness—I to falsehood ! M. We were deceived, betrayed !
The sport of frenzy ! M. And said my mother true, false is the world ?
Believe her, false as air. M.
Give me thy hand! C. And thine be ever next my heart !
T. MARTIN from Schiller
ان دن دن دن
S they heard her lamentation, in their troubled
anguish deep, wept the father, wept the mother, 'gan the daughter
too to weep; then the little son beheld them, and their doleful
moan he heard,
and with both his eyes wide open lisp'd he thus his
broken word : ‘Weep not, father, weep not, mother, oh my sister,
weep not so !' First to one and then to the other smiling went he
to and fro. Then a blade of spear-grass lifting, thus in bolder
glee he said : "With this spear-grass will I kill him, this man-eating
giant, dead. Though o’erpower'd by bitterest sorrow, as they heard
their prattling boy, stole into the parents' bosom mute and inexpressive
H. H. MILMAN
THITHER away? Oh, leave us not so soon.
Tell They look for me at home. So fare
Sta. My heart's so full and has so much to tell you.
When the fierce southwind rises from his chasms,
peace to the peaceful rarely is denied.
Let them alone ; they'll weary of themselves,
whene'er they see we are not to be roused. Sta. Much might be done—did we stand fast together. Tell When the ship founders, he will best escape,
who seeks no other's safety but his own.
Tell But the strong man is strongest when alone.
if in despair she rises 'gainst her foes. Tell Tell rescues the lost sheep from yawning gulfs ;
is he a man, then, to desert his friends?
T. MARTIN from Schiller
their love can scarce deserve the name;
1092 CARACTACUS TO ELIDURUS, SON OF CARTIS
'OME hither, youth ; be thou to me a son,
to her a brother. Thus with trembling arms I lead you forth; children, we go to Rome. Weep'st thou, my girl? I prithee hoard thy tears for the sad meeting of thy captive mother : for we have much to tell her, much to say of these good men, who nurtured us in Mona : much of the fraud and malice that pursued us; much of her son, who poured his precious blood : F. S. III
to save his sire and sister : think'st thou, maid,
THE MAID OF ORLEANS
PEAK not of treaty, speak not of surrender!
The fortunes of the foe before the walls
A. SWANWICK from Schiller
Mer. ND what of thine Arcadian mate, who bears
suspicion from thy grandsire of thy death, for whom, as I suppose, thou passest here? Æp. Sworn to our plot he is : but, that surmise
fix'd him the author of my death, I knew not. Mer. Proof, not surmise, shows him in commerce closeÆp. With this Messenian tyrant—that I know. Mer. And entertain'st thou, child, such dangerous friends? Æp. This commerce for my best behoof he plies. Mer. That thou may'st read thine enemy's counsel plain? Æp. Too dear his secret wiles have cost our house. Mer. And of his unsure agent what demands he? Æp. News of my business, pastime, temper, friends. Mer. His messages, then, point not to thy murder. Æp. Not yet ; though such, no doubt, his final aim. Mer. And what Arcadian helpers bring'st thou here?