The sleeper's notice, yet he'd scarcely shaken
The list'ning member, when the hapless cur
(Valour sometimes will eminently err)
Incurred the fierce Swine's tusk, bored by the Boar,
A curtailed corpse, lay th' first o' th' canine corps.
Th' Avant-courier's death check'd his cur-rear;
The curs around, at first somewhat dogmatic
Of conquest o'er the Boar, beheld the bier
Of their too valiant mate with looks rheumatic,
And tho' their cur-rage rose above their fear,
Thought his of their fare fairly emblematic.
The foe's advice now friendly seemed, tho' dear,
His speech was close and pointedly emphatic,
(My doggrel rhyme its language may impair,
"Twas nervous Tusk-an, if not genuine Attic)
Sometime the dogs stood doggedly aloof
Nor dared to meddle with his horn or hoof.
Meleager now, impatient of delay,
Bid each man draw his belt and buckle tighter,
Posted the troop in circular array,
Then cautiously advanced to reconnoitre,
Dubious of bays with such a foe at bay,
He cared not long upon the swamp to loiter,
But swift returned, cried "Charge!" with wild" Hurra!" Whizz'd lance and shaft, stone, bolt, and assagay.
This roused the couchant Boar, with grunting sound
He leap'd the rushes, rush'd amidst his foes,
As cleaves the levinbolt its cloudy bound
Cleaves he the crowd, insensible to blows;
His eyes blaze, nostrils smoke, he gores the ground,
While from his tusks the whitening slaver flows;
His furious charge nor man, nor horse, nor hound
Withstands; aloft the howling dogs he throws;
The heroes run, and tumbling sprawl around,
Loud bellowing, as o'er them rubs his nose.
Eupalamon upon a grassy mound
Lies gash'd, and bleeding with convulsive throes;
Young Othry's hip receives a ghastly wound;
Pelagona and Enesimus close
Their eyes in death, each muttering with a sigh,
"Alas! that we for this left our dear native stye."
Sagacious Nestor, deeming bravery
But ill timed, from his spear shaft lightly sprang
Amid the branches of a neighbouring tree,
And thence, secure, with many an anxious pang,
Surveyed his friends and th' conquering enemy,
The coming Boar whose doubly mortal fang
Had well nigh given him immortality
Before the time of which blind Homer sang;
At length Meleager's bugle loudly rang
Thro' th' forest glades, recalling to the fray
Each dread deserter, and brave runaway.
The Boar borne onward to the crest o' th' hill,
Reach'd the old oak where Nestor lay perdue;
Somewhat fatigued, beneath the boughs stood still,
The better at his leisure to review
The foes subdued, and those left to subdue,
He thought them all in sooth a coward crew.
Then deeming tooth or tusk had suffered ill
By running men, and dogs, and horses through,
Sought anxiously for a convenient stone
Their blunted point and polish to renew,
Sore tried had been their temper as his own.
Dry was the soil, no whetstone could he find,
Save the oak trunk, so on the hard rough rind
His tools commenced he rapidly to grind;
Reset his teeth and bayonets of bone,
And then (their edge and surface to his mind)
Beneath the leafy shade he cast his body prone.
The warriors now, with resolution new,
And caution gathered from their late reverse, (The lesson had been fatal to a few)
Advanced again, and charged, both foot and horse.
Half shielded by an elm, Echeon threw
His spear with practised skill and giant force,
But glancing in a branch athwart that grew,
Harmless the arm o'er th' Boar's back shot its course.
Deep in a maple's bark, a second flew
Quiv'ring with prisoned rage; a mark far worse,
Struck Jason's shaft, and innocently slew
A tender puppy just escaped from nurse;
Crest fallen both the hunters backward drew,
The seaman mutt'ring something like a curse.
A shower of darts then followed their debut,
(The heroes' names just now I can't rehearse ;)
The Boar refreshed, meantime dashed right and left,
And various animals of life bereft.
High on the azure arch now rode the sun,
Yet higher still the shouts of battle rose,
Castor and Pollux, Egeus' mighty son,
Meleager, Mopsus, Protheus, Pirithous,
And Hippocoon, immortal honour won,
The Boar's hide echoed with their thund'ring blows;
He seemed now somewhat less to like the fun,
And felt inclined th' unwonted sport to close,
Retreating slowly to his covert dun,
Still boldly faced he his advancing foes,
Him following swiftly, mighty Telamon
Fell, as the tangled bracken caught his toes.
Cried he," Laertes help me! or I'm done!
Already do I feel the villain's nose!"
The beast stooped down, when fairest Atalanta
His left ear tickled with a shaft instanter.
With tenfold rage and fury turn'd the Boar,
And snapp'd the feathery weapon like a thistle,
Striving to tear it out, himself he tore,
Still stuck the barbed head fast in the gristle;
Great pain he felt, expressed, and thought it sore
That the soft hands fair Atalanta wore
To his ear could address such sharp epistle;
With dust and sweat, his own and others' gore
Tho' covered, that thought each "particular bristle,"
Rous'd to increased emotion; more and more
He chafed, but Anceus who cared not a whistle
For him, or any of the swinish corps,
Rushed forth, and stood the savage right before.
Whirling on high a two-edged, ponderous axe,
Cried he, "Give way ye women for a man!
Behold this right arm! Greece! nay, th' world' I tax
To shew its fellow, match it if ye can;
I'll slay this porker huge, and as to snacks,"
(Here angry murmurs broke from th' rear and van)
"Nor chaps nor chine I need, I want some brains,
Blackpuddings, bacon, griskin, for my pains,
The rest may share alike in what remains."
Thus boasting o'er his mates, the hero bold
Ran with raisd arms to lay the monster low;
Dreaming of sausage, sparerib, collar cold,
Ham, pork, and mince pie, piled in goodly row,
Against a stone his foot tripp'd, down he roll'd,
And met the tough tusks of his uncook'd foe.
The hard live hoof, for soft boil'd pettitoe.
His weapon in the shock shot from his hold,
And fell inglorious in the miry slough;
Half stunn'd, the warrior vainly strives to rise,
Alas! no resurrection shall he know,
The Boar, perchance, less courteous than wise.
Finding him down, resolves to keep him low,
And gores his body with repeated blow;
A mangled mass, unhappy Anceus lies,
He writhes, his eyes glare, jaws drop, with a groan he dies.
Fortune now left the Boar, and to the side
Of his fierce foes the fickle Goddess went,
Her far more constant daughter soon supplied
The place, nor left him after this event.
More feebly fought he, took less vig'rous stride,
A thousand blows his stalwart back had bent,
A hundred shafts had pierced his hardy hide,
His once smooth tusks shewed many a grievous dent,
Down droop'd his tail, no longer stiff with pride,
Nor yet for this did his proud foes relent;
Wearied with toil, blind, bleeding, breathless, spent,
He staggered round, still striking weak and wide;
At length Meleager his keen javelin sent
Right to his noble heart, and as he rent
Away the spear, forth gush'd the living tide,
He reeled, threw up his heels, kick'd, grunted, died.
Loud shouts of conquest raised the victor band,
And closely pressed the mighty slain around,
Marking his bulk, the length and breadth they spann'd,
And what vast space his huge hide hid of ground.
At one swift stroke Meleager's heavy brand
Severed the thick set neck; few could be found
(Butchers I mean) in this degenerate land
Such stroke to deal; then with a bow profound
At Atalanta's feet the head he laid,
And thus in gallant style addressed the maid.
"Accept fair nymph a small piece of the prize;
O! that the peace I prize thou couldst restore;
Not only hast thou struck with shaft the Boar,
But with the keener arrows of thine eyes
Transfixed my breast, and pierced me to the core;
I'm all on fire!" the troop in some surprize
Looked round for water on their chief to pour,
"My bosom burns! within it my heart fries!
My brain is singeing, artery, vein, and pore,
With liquid light'ning is fast running o'er!"
Here paused he, uttered several dismal sighs,
And looked pathetically on the floor;
Greatly his friends felt for his situation,
And thus continued he his " declaration."
"Thy lovely form whose nameless contour vies
With that which Aphrodite in girlhood wore,
Those cheeks soft blushing as the morning skies,
Those orbs, whose flash might melt the rugged ore,
Soft fragrant lips, whose richly ripened dyes
Enchant the gaze and charm the touch still more,
Brow, nose, and chin, neck, tresses, ivories,
Where Euphrosyne, Aglaia, Thalia's store
Of grace and bloom, in blended beauty lies,
Make me feel as I never felt before-
Smile Atalanta, or Meleager dies!
Consumed with fiery pangs, on Styx' dark shore
A calcined corpse, he'll soon need Charon's oar."
He ended; Atalanta well pleased, bore
The gift away, and smiles o'erspread her face:
The pork was savoury, if not sweet the praise.
Hey day! why his Majesty and Diana are asleep!" exclaimed Minerva," and I have been edifying a deaf audience." Twas even so, they had been comfortably snoring for the last hour, and the Lady Pallas had not discovered the fact until somewhat wearied herself with the love scene, she paused at the end of the verse. Not feeling inclined to continue this uninteresting part of the story, she roused her companion, silently laid the paper on the table and departed.
HERE rugged lives our fathers led,
Age after age of toil and care;
Now, like a garden round us spread,
The land we look upon is fair.
eyes delicious visions fill,
The Sage's thought, the Poet's dream :
Where Art exhausts her utmost skill,
Yet Nature reigns o'er all supreme.
Old England! though I leave thee far,
More of thee shall I feel and know;
Thy soul burns in me like a star;
Thy greatness yet will on me grow.
I see thee, mountain, forest, vale;
I breathe the freshness of thy downs:
I see thy ships of endless sail;
I hear the hum of all thy towns.
O, native isle! O, famous land!
Mother of nations great and free;
When I nor love, nor understand
Thy glory, I must cease to be!
THE BOND OF EARTH THE JOY OF HEAVEN.
THE strongest tie that binds me here
Is that which binds the hosts above;
This broken-I should long t' appear
Where all our strength is LOVE.
For LOVE alone can bliss bestow;
The fountain-source of all our joy,
Both in this shifting world below,
And in the world on high.
We taste its blessings here on earth,
And life appears a generous boon.
Robbed of its precious sweets-sad dearth
Comes o'er our spirits soon.
And the whole sum of ceaseless bliss
Our new-embodied souls shall prove,
If I know aught of heaven-is this,
To have no bounds to love.
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