Meyaλa sya: great or remarkable actions: we find the title of this work in the eighth book of Athenæus.
KЯuxos yaμos: the marriage of Ceyx; we have an account of this poem both by Athenæus, and Plutarch in his Symposiacs.
Of all these labours of this great poet we see nothing but the titles remaining, excepting some fragments preserved by Pausanias, Plutarch, Polybius, &c. We are told that our poet composed some other works, of which we have not even the titles. We are assured, from divers passages in Pliny, that he wrote of the virtues of herbs; but here Fabricius judiciously observes, that he might, in other poems, occasionally treat of various herbs; as in the beginning of his Works and Days he speaks of the wholesomeness of mallows, and the daffodil, or asphodelos. Quintilian, in his fifth book, denies the fables of Æsop to have been written originally by him, but says the first author of them was Hesiod; and Plutarch informs us that Æsop was his disciple: but this opinion, though countenanced by some, is exploded by others.
When we reflect on the number of titles, the poems to which are irreparably lost, we should consider them as so many monuments to raise our concern for the loss of so much treasure never to be retrieved. Let us turn our thoughts from that melancholy theme, and view the poet in his living writings; let us read him ourselves, and incite our countrymen to a taste of the politeness of Greece. Scaliger, in an epistle of Salmasius, divides the state of poetry in Greece into four periods of time: in the first arose Homer and Hesiod; on which he has the just observation that concludes my discourse: this," says he, "you may not improperly call the spring of poesy, but it is rather the bloom than infancy,"
THE GENERAL ARGUMENT TO THE
FROM THE GREEK OF DANIEL HEINSIUS.
THE poet begins with the difference of the two contentions, and, rejecting that which is attended
with disgrace, he advises his brother Perses to prefer the other. One is the lover of strife, and the occasion of troubles. The other prompts us on to procure the necessaries of life in a fair and honest way. After Prometheus had, by subtlety, stole the fire clandestinely from Jove (the fire is by the divine Plato, in his allusion to this passage, called the necessaries or abundance of life; and those are called subtle who were solicitous after the abundance of life) the god created a great evil, which was Pandora, that is Fortune, who was endowed with all the gifts of the gods, meaning all the benefits of nature: so Fortune may from thence be said to have the disposal of the comforts of life; and, from that time, care and prudence are required in the management of human affairs. Before Prometheus had purloined the fire, all the common necessaries of life were near at hand, and easily attained; for Saturn had first made a golden age of men, to which the earth yielded all her fruits spontaneously: the mortals of the golden age submitted to a soft and pleasant death, and were afterwards made demons, and honour attended their names. To this succeeded the second, the silver age, worse in all things than the first, and better than the following; which Jupiter, or Fate, took from the Earth, and made happy in their death. Hence the poet passes to the third, the brazen age, the men of which, he says, were fierce and terrible, who ignobly fell by their own folly and civil discord; nor was their future fate like to the other, for they descended to Hell. This generation is followed by a race of heroes, Eteocles and Polynices, and the rest who were in the first and oldest Theban war, and Agamemnon and Menelaus, and such as are recorded by the poet1 to be in the Trojan war, of whom some perished entirely by death, and some now inhabit the isles of the blessed. Next he describes the iron age, and the injustice which prevailed in it. He greatly reproves the judges, and taxes them with corruption, in a short and beautiful fable. In the other part of the book, he sets before our eyes the consequences of justice and injustice; and then, in the most sagacious manner, lays down some of the wisest precepts to Perses. The part which contains the precepts is chiefly writ in an irregular, free, and easy way; and his frequent repetitions, which custom modern writers have quite avoided, bear no small marks of his antiquity. He often digresses, that his brother might not be tired with his precepts, because of a too much sameness. Hence he passes to rules of economy, beginning with agriculture. He points out the proper season for the plough, the harvest, the vintage, and for felling wood; he shows the fruits of industry, and the ill consequences of negligence. He describes the different seasons, and tells us what works are proper to each. These are the subjects of the first part of his economy. In process of time, and the thirst of gain increasing in men, every method was tried to the procuring riches; men began to extend their commerce over the seas; for which reason the poet laid down precepts for navigation. He next proceeds to a recommendation of divine worship, the adoration due to the immortal gods, and the various ways of paying our homage to them. He concludes with a short observation on days, dividing them into the good, bad, and indifferent.
1 I suppose Heinsius means Homer.
WORKS OF HESIOD.
TRANSLATED BY COOKE.
This book contains the invocation to the whole, the general proposition, the story of Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Pandora, a description of the golden age, silver age, brazen age, the age of heroes, and the iron age, a recommendation of virtue, from the temporal blessings with which good men are attended, and the condition of the wicked, and several moral precepts proper to be observed through the course of our lives.
SING, Muses, sing, from the Pierian grove;
Begin the song, and let the theme be Jove; From him ye sprung, and him ye first should praise;
From your immortal sire deduce your lays; -To him alone, to his great will, we owe, That we exist, and what we are, below. Whether we blaze among the sons of fame, Or live obscurely, and without a name, Or noble, or ignoble, still we prove Our lot determin'd by the will of Jove. With ease he lifts the peasant to a crown, With the same ease he casts the monarch down; With ease he clouds the brightest name in night, And calls the meanest to the fairest light; At will he varies life through ev'ry state, Unnerves the strong, and makes the crooked strait. Such Jove, who thunders terrible from high, Who dwells in mansions far above the sky. Look down, thou pow'r supreme, vouchsafe thine And let my judgment be by justice sway'd; [aid, O! hear my vows, and thine assistance bring, While truths undoubted I to Perses sing.
As here on Earth we tread the maze of life, The mind's divided in a double strife; One, by the wise, is thought deserving fame, And this attended by the greatest shame, The dismal source whence spring pernicious jars, The baneful fountain of destructive wars, Which, by the laws of arbitrary fate, We follow, though by nature taught to hate; From night's black realms this took its odious birth: And one Jove planted in the womb of earth, The better strife; by this the soul is fir'd To arduous toils, nor with those toils is tir'd; One sees his neighbour, with laborious hand, Planting his orchard, or manuring land; He sees another, with industrious care, Materials for the building art prepare ;
Ille himself he sees them haste to rise,
Observes their growing wealth with envious eyes,
With emulation fir'd, beholds their store,
And toils with joy, who never toil'd before:
The artist envies what the artist gains,
The bard the riva! bard's successful strains.
Perses, attend, my just decrees observe,
Nor from thy honest labour idly swerve;
The love of strife, that joys in evils, shun,
Nor to the forum, from thy duty, run.
How vain the wranglings of the bar to mind,
While Ceres, yellow goddess, is unkind!
But when propitious she has heap'd your store,
For others you may plead, and not before;
But let with justice your contentions prove,
And be your counsels such as come from Jove;
Not as of late, when we divided lands,
You grasp'd at all with avaricious hands;
When the corrupted bench, for bribes well known,
Unjustly granted more than was your own.
Fools, blind to truth! nor knows their erring soul
How much the half is better than the whole,
How great the pleasure wholesome herbs afford,
How bless'd the frugal, and an honest, board!
Would the immortal gods on inen bestow
A mind, how few the wants of life to know,
They all the year, from labour free, might live
On what the bounty of a day would give,
They soon the rudder o'er the smoke would lay,
And let the mule, and ox, at leisure stray:
This sense to man the king of gods denies,
In wrath to him who daring robb'd the skies;
Dread ills the god prepar'd, unknown before,
And the stol'n fire back to his Heav'n he bore;
But from Prometheus 'twas conceal'd in vain,
Which for the use of man he stole again,
And, artful in his faud, brought from above,
Clos'd in a hollow cane, deceiving Jove:
Again defrauded of celestial fire,
Thus spoke the cloud-compelling god in ire;
"Son of Iapetus, o'er-subtle, go,
And glory in thy artful theft below;
Now of the fire you boast by stealth retriev'd,
And triumph in almighty Jove deceiv'd;
But thou too late shall find the triumph vain,
And read thy folly in succeeding pain;
Posterity the sad effect shall know,
When, in pursuit of joy, they grasp their woe."
He spoke, and told to Mulciber his will,
And, smiling, bade him his commands fulfil,
To use his greatest art, his nicest care,
To frame a creature exquisitely fair,
To temper well the clay with water, then
To add the vigour, and the voice, of men,
To let her first in virgin lustre shine,
In form a goddess, with a bloom divine:
And next the sire demands Minerva's aid,
In all her various skill to train the maid,
Bids her the secrets of the loom impart,
To cast a curious thread with happy art:
And golden Venus was to teach the fair
The wiles of love, and to improve her air,
And then, in awful ma esty, to shed
A thousand graceful charms around her head:
Next Hermes, artful god, must form her mind,
One day to torture, and the next be kind,
With manners all deceitful, and her tongue
Fraught with abuse, and with detraction hung.
Jove gave the mandate; and the gods obey'd.
First Vulcan form'd of earth the blushing maid;
Minerva next perform'd the task assign'd,
With ev'ry female art adorn'd her mind.
To dress her Suada, and the Graces, join;
Around her person, lo! the di'monds shine.
To deck her brows the fair-tress'd Seasons bring
A garland breathing all the sweets of Spring.
Each present Pallas gives its proper place,
And adds to ev'ry ornament a grace.
Next Hermes taught the fair the heart to move,
With all the false alluring arts of love,
Her manners all deceitful, and her tongue
With falsehoods fruitful, and detraction hung.
The finish'd maid the gods Pandora call,
Because a tribute she receiv'd from all:
And thus, 'twas Jove's command, the sex began,
A lovely mischief to the soul of man.
When the great sire of gods beheld the fair,
The fatal guile, th' inevitable snare,
Hermes he bids to Epimetheus bear.
Prometheus, mi dful of his theft above,
Had warn'd his brother to beware of Jove,
To take no present that the god should send,
Lest the fair bride should ill to man portend;
But he, forgetful, takes his evil fate,
Accepts the mischief, and repents too late.
Mortals at first a blissful Earth enjoy'd,
With ills untainted, nor with cares annoy'd;
To them the world was no laborious stage,
Nor fear'd they then the miseries of age;
But soon the sad reversion they behold,
Alas! they grow in their afflictions old;
For in her hand the nymph a casket bears,
Full of diseases, and corroding cares,
Which open'd, they to taint the world begin,
And Hope alone remains entire within.
Such was the fatal present from above,
And such the will of cloud-compelling Jove.
And now unnumber'd woes o'er mortals reign,
Alike infected is the land, and main,
O'er human race distempers silent stray,
And multiply their strength by night and day;
'Twas Jove's decree they should in silence rove;
For who is able to contend with Jove?
And now the subject of my verse I change;
To tales of profit and delight I range;
Whence you may pleasure and advantage gain,
If in your mind you lay the useful strain.
Soon as the deathless gods were born, and man,
A mortal race, with voice endow'd, began,
The heav'nly pow'rs from high their work
behold,
And the first age they style an age of gold.
Men spent a life like gods in Saturn's reign,
Nor felt their mind a care, nor body pain;
From labour free they ev'ry sense enjoy;
Nor could the ills of time their peace destroy;
In banquets they delight, remov❜d from care;
Nor troublesome old age intruded there:
They die, or rather seem to die, they seem
From hence transportel in a pleasing dream.
The fields, as yet untill'd, their fruits afford,
And fill a sumptuous, and unenvied board:
Thus, crown'd with happiness their ev'ry day,
Serene, and joyful, pass'd their lives away.
When in the grave this race of men was laid,
Soon was a world of holy demons made,
Aerial spirits, by great Jove design'd
To be on Earth the guardians of mankind;
Invisible to mortal eyes they go,
And mark our actions, good or bad, below;
Th' immortal spies with watchful care preside,
And thrice ten thousand round their charges glide:
They can reward with glory, or with gold;
A pow'r they by divine permission hold.
Worse than the first, a second age appears,
Which the celestials call the silver years.
The golden age's virtues are no more;
Nature grows weaker than she was before;
In strength of body mortals much decay;
And human wisdom seems to fade away.
An hundred years the careful dames employ,
Before they form'd to man th' unpolish'd boy;
Who when he reach'd his bloom, his age's prime,
Found, measur'd by his joys, but short his time.
Men, prone to ill, denied the gods their due,
And, by their follies, made their days but few.
The altars of the bless'd neglected stand,
Without the off'rings which the laws demand;
But angry Jove in dust this people laid,
Because no honours to the gods they paid. [span,
This second race, when clos'd their life's short
Was happy deem'd beyond the state of man;
Their names were grateful to their children made;
Each paid a rev'ience to his father's shade.
And now a third, a brazen, people rise,
Unlike the former, men of monstrous size:
Strong arms extensive from their shoulders grow,
Their limbs of equal magnitude below;
Potent in arms, and dreadful at the spear,
They live injurious, and devoid of fear:
On the crude flesh of beasts, they feed, alone,
Savage their nature, and their hearts of stone;
Their houses brass, of brass the warlike blade,
Iron was yet unknown, in brass they trade:
Furious, robust, impatient for the fight,
War is their only care, and sole delight.
To the dark shades of death this race descend,
By civil discords, an ignoble end!
[might,
Strong tho' they were, death quell'd their boasted
And forc'd their stubborn souls to leave the light.
To these a fourth, a better, race succeeds,
Of godlike heroes, fam'd for martial deeds;
Them demigods, at first, their matchless worth
Proclaims aloud, all through the boundless Earth.
These, horrid wars, their love of arms, destroy,
Some at the gates of Thebes, and some at Troy.
These for the brothers fell, detested strife!
For beauty those, the lovely Grecian wife!
To these does Jove a second life ordain,
Some happy soil far in the distant main,
Where live the hero-shades in rich repast,
Remote from mortals of a vulgar cast:
There in the islands of the bless'd they find,
Where Saturn reigns, an endless calur of mind;
And there the choicest fruits adorn the fields,
And thrice the fertile year a harvest yields.
O! would I had my hours of life began
Before this fifth, this sinful, race of man;
Or had not been call'd to breathe the day,
Till the rough iron age had pass'd away!
For now, the times are such, the gods ordain,
That ev'ry moment shall be wing'd with pain;
Condemn'd to sorrows, and to toil, we live;
Rest to our labour death alone can give;
And yet, amidst the cares our lives annoy,
The gods will grant some intervals of joy:
But how degen'rate is the human state!
Virtue no more distinguishes the great;
No safe reception shall the stranger find;
Nor shall the ties of blood, or friendship, bind;
Nor shall the parent, when his sons are nigh,
Look with the fondness of a parent's eye,
Nor to the sire the son obedience pay,
Nor look with rev'rence on the locks of grey,
But, O! regardless of the pow'rs divine,
With bitter taunts shall load his life's decline.
Revenge and rapine shall respect command,
The pious, just, and good, neglected stand.
The wicked shall the better man distress,
The righteous suffer, and without redress;
Strict honesty, and naked truth, shall fail,
The perjur'd villain, in his arts, prevail.
Hoarse Envy shall, unseen, exert her voice,
Attend the wretched, and in ill rejoice.
At last fair Modesty and Justice fly,
Rob'd their pure limbs in white, and gain the sky;
From the wide Earth they reach the bless'd abodes,
And join the grand assembly of the gods,
While mortal men, abandon'd to their grief,
Sink in their sorrows, hopeless of relief.
While now my fable from the birds I bring,
To the great rulers of the Earth I sing.
High in the clouds a mighty bird of prey
Bore a melodious nightingale away;
And to the captive, shiv'ring in despair,
Thus cruel spoke the tyrant of the air.
"Why mourns the wretch in my superior pow'r?
Thy voice avalls not in the ravish'd hour;
Vain are thy cries; at my despotic will,
Or I can set thee free, or I can kill.
Unwisely who provokes his abler foe,
Conquest still flies him, and he strives for woe."
Thus spoke th' enslaver with insulting pride.
O! Perses, justice ever be thy guide;
May malice never gain upon thy will,
Malice that makes the wretch more wretched still.
The good man injur'd, to revenge is slow,
To him the vengeance is the greater woe.
Ever will all injurious courses fail,
And justice ever over wrongs prevail;
Right will take place at last, by fit degrees;
This truth the fool by sad experience sees.
When suits commence, dishonest strife the cause,
Faith violated, and the breach of laws,
Ensue; the cries of justice haunt the judge,
Of bribes the glutton, and of sin the drudge.
Through cities then the holy demon runs,
Unseen, and mourns the manners of their sons,
Dispersing evils, to reward the crimes
Of those who banish justice from the times.
Is there a man whom incorrupt we call,
Who sits alike unprejudic'd to all,
By him the city flourishes in peace,
Her borders lengthen, and her sons increase;
From him far-seeing Jove will drive afar
All civil discord, and the rage of war.
No days of famine to the righteous fall,
But all is plenty, and delightful all;
Nature indulgent o'er their land is seen,
With oaks high tow'ring are their mountains green,
With heavy mast their arms diffusive bow,
While from their trunks rich streams of honey
Of flocks untainted are their pastures full, [flow;
Which slowly strut beneath their weight of wool 3
And sons are born the likeness of their sire,
The fruits of virtue, and a chaste desire:
O'er the wide seas for wealth they need not roam,
Many and lasting are their joys at home.
Not thus the wicked, who in ill delight,
Whose daily acts pervert the rules of right;
To those the wise disposer, Jove, ordains
Repeated losses, and a world of pains:
Famines and plagues are unexpected nigh;
Their wives are barren, and their kindred die;
Numbers of these at once are swept away;
And ships of wealth become the ocean's prey.
One sinner oft provokes th' Avenger's hand;
And often one man's crimes destroy a land.
Exactly mark, ye rulers of mankind,
The ways of truth, nor be to justice blind
Consider, all ye do, and all ye say,
The holy demons to their god convey,
Aërial spirits, by great Jove design'd,
To be on Earth the guardians of mankind;
Invisible to mortal eyes they go,
And mark our actions, good or bad, below;
Th' immortal spies with watchful care preside,
And thrice ten thousand round their charges glide
Justice, unspotted maid, deriv'd from Jove,
Renown'd, and reverenc'd by the gods above,
When mortals violate her sacred laws,
When judges hear the bribe, and not the cause,
Close by her parent god behold her stand,
And urge the punishment their sins demand.
Look in your breasts, and there survey your crimes,
Think, O! ye judges, and reform betimes,
Forget the past, nor more false judgments give,
Turn from your ways betimes, O! turn and live.
Who, full of wiles, his neighbour's harm contrives,
False to himself, against himself he strives;
For he that harbours evil in his mind
Will from his evil thoughts but evil find;
And lo! the eye of Jove, that all things knows,
Can, when he will, the heart of man disclose;
Open the guilty bosom all within,
And trace the infant thoughts of future sin.
O! when I hear the upright man complain,
And, by his injuries, the judge arraign,
"If to be wicked is to find success,"
I cry," and to be just to meet distress,
May I nor mine the righteous path pursue,
But int'rest only ever keep in view :"
But, by reflection better taught, I find
We see the present, to the future blind.
Trust to the will of Jove, and wait the end,
And good shall always your good acts attend.
These doctrines, Perses, treasure in thy heart,
And never from the paths of justice part:
Never by brutal violence be sway'd;
But be the will of Jove in these obey'd.
In these the brute creation men exceed, They, void of reason, by each other bleed, While man by justice should be kept in awe, Justice, of nature well ordain'd the law.
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