Of these one of the first was the Hamadryad, a dramatic idyl of the time when to every man the shapes of Nature were but the reflections of his own, and in the Collection of all his writings during the next three years he not only added other similar pieces, such as the Cymodameia, but translated most of the Latin idyls already printed with a force and ingenuity that left no trace of their original form. These again were brought together in a volume under the title of Hellenics, and others later under that of Heroic Idyls, after he had returned to England in consequence of domestic discomforts and had established himself once more at Bath, the scene of his happiest youthful days. He returned once more to Italy, and died at Florence in his 90th year.
The consummate grace of many of Landor's smaller pieces will. ever recommend them to the general reader, but the bulk of his poetry can only be appreciated by those who possess cognate tastes and something of similar acquisitions. There remains however a just interest in this signal example of the enduring dominion of the old classic forms of thought not only over the young imagination but over the matured and most cultivated intelligence. To Keats they assimilated themselves almost without learning by a certain natural affinity; to the industrious and scholarly Landor they became the lifelong vital forces not only of poetic generation but of moral sustenance. They gave to his character the heroic influences which alone subdued the wilfulness of his temperament, and amid all the confusions of life kept his heart high and his fancy pure. But they did not limit the powers they controlled in the Examination of Shakespeare he is the Englishman of the Elizabethan age, in the Pentameron the Italian of that of Petrarch and Boccaccio, as even when most Greek and most Latin he is ever Landor himself alone.
[The peculiar orthography has been preserved in these extracts it was adopted by Julius Hare, and by Connop Thirlwall in his earlier writings.]
I am not daunted, no; I will engage. But first, said she, what wager will you lay? A sheep, I answered, add whate'er you will. I cannot, she replied, make that return: Our hided vessels in their pitchy round Seldom, unless from rapine, hold a sheep. But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the Sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one and it awakens, then apply Its polisht lips to your attentive ear And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
Ye men of Gades, armed with brazen shields, And ye of near Tartessus, where the shore Stoops to receive the tribute which all owe To Baetis and his banks for their attire, Ye too whom Durius bore on level meads, Inherent in your hearts is bravery:
For Earth contains no nation where abounds The generous horse and not the warlike man. But neither soldier now nor steed avails : Nor steed nor soldier can oppose the Gods: Nor is there aught above like Jove himself, Nor weighs against his purpose, when once fixt, Aught but, with supplicating knee, the Prayers. Swifter than light are they, and every face,
Tho' different, glows with beauty; at the throne Of mercy, when clouds shut it from mankind, They fall bare-bosom'd, and indignant Jove Drops at the soothing sweetness of their voice The thunder from his hand let us arise
On these high places daily, beat our breast, Prostrate ourselves and deprecate his wrath.
'Oh seek not destin'd evils to divine,
Found out at last too soon! cease here the search, 'Tis vain, 'tis impious, 'tis no gift of mine;
I will impart far better, will impart
What makes, when Winter comes, the Sun to rest So soon on Ocean's bed his paler brow, And Night to tarry so at Spring's return. And I will tell sometimes the fate of men Who loos'd from drooping neck the restless arm Adventurous, ere long nights had satisfied The sweet and honest avarice of love;
How whirlpools have absorb'd them, storms o'erwhelm'd, And how amid their struggles and their prayers The big wave blacken'd o'er the mouth supine: Then, when my Tamar trembles at the tale, Kissing his lips half open with surprise, Glance from the gloomy story, and with glee Light on the fairer fables of the Gods. --Thus we may sport at leisure when we go Where, loved by Neptune and the Naiad, loved By pensive Dryad pale, and Oread.
The sprightly nymph whom constant Zephyr woos, Rhine rolls his beryl-colour'd wave; than Rhine What river from the mountains ever came More stately? most the simple crown adorns Of rushes and of willows intertwined
With here and there a flower: his lofty brow
Shaded with vines and mistleto and oak
He rears, and mystic bards his fame resound. Or gliding opposite, th' Illyrian gulf
Will harbour us from ill.' While thus she spake, She toucht his eyelashes with libant lip,
And breath'd ambrosial odours, o'er his cheek Celestial warmth suffusing: grief dispersed,
And strength and pleasure beam'd upon his brow. Then pointed she before him first arose To his astonisht and delighted view
The sacred ile that shrines the queen of love. It stood so near him, so acute each sense, That not the symphony of lutes alone
Or coo serene or billing strife of doves,
But murmurs, whispers, nay the very sighs
Which he himself had utter'd once, he heard.
Next, but long after and far off, appear
The cloudlike cliffs and thousand towers of Crete, And further to the right, the Cyclades :
Phoebus had rais'd and fixt them, to surround His native Delos and aerial fane.
He saw the land of Pelops, host of Gods, Saw the steep ridge where Corinth after stood Beckoning the serious with the smiling Arts Into the sunbright bay; unborn the maid That to assure the bent-up hand unskilled Lookt oft, but oftener fearing who might wake. He heard the voice of rivers; he descried Pindan Peneus and the slender nymphs
That tread his banks but fear the thundering tide; These, and Amphrysos and Apidanus
And poplar-crown'd Spercheus, and reclined On restless rocks Enipeus, where the winds Scatter'd above the weeds his hoary hair. Then, with Pirene and with Panope Evenus, troubled from paternal tears, And last was Achelous, king of iles. Zacynthus here, above rose Ithaca, Like a blue bubble floating in the bay.
Far onward to the left a glimm'ring light Glanced out oblique, nor vanisht; he inquired Whence that arose, his consort thus replied. 'Behold the vast Eridanus! ere long We may again behold him and rejoice. Of noble rivers none with mightier force Rolls his unwearied torrent to the main.' And now Sicanian Etna rose to view: Darkness with light more horrid she confounds, Baffles the breath and dims the sight of day. Tamar grew giddy with astonishment
And, looking up, held fast the bridal vest;
He heard the roar above him, heard the roar
Beneath, and felt it too, as he beheld,
Hurl, from Earth's base, rocks, mountains, to the skies.
To-morrow, brightest-eyed of Avon's train, To-morrow thou art slavelike bound and sold, Another's and another's; haste away,
Winde through the willows, dart along the path, It nought avails thee, nought our plaint avails. O happy those before me, who could say, 'Short though thy period, sweet Tacæa, short Ere thou art destined to the depths below, Thou passest half thy sunny hours with me.' I mourn not, envy not, what others gain, Thee, and thy venerable elms I mourn, Thy old protectors, ruthless was the pride, And gaunt the need that bade their heads lie low. I see the meadow's tender grass start back, See from their prostrate trunks the gory glare. Ah! pleasant was it once to watch thy waves Swelling o'er pliant beds of glossy weed; Pleasant to watch them dip amid the stones, Chirp, and spring over, glance and gleam along, And tripping light their wanton way pursue.
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