You ask me why, though ill at ease,
Within this region I subsist,
Whose spirits fail within the mist,
And languish for the purple seas.
It is the land that freemen till,
That sober-suited Freedom chose;
The land, where girt with friends or foes, A man may speak the thing he will ;
A land of settled government,
A land of just and old renown,
Where Freedom broadens slowly down.
From precedent to precedent.
Should banded unions persecute
Opinion, and induce a time
When single thought is civil crime,
And individual freedom mute;
Though Power should make from land to land The name of Britain trebly great;
Though every channel in the state Should almost choke with golden sand;
Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth,
Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky;
And I will see before I die
The palms and temples of the South.
Quaeris solicito cur ita taedio
Obpressus patriae semper inhaeream,
Cui cor deficiens purpureum mare
Hic intra nebulas avet.
Glebam scilicet hanc libera gens arat,
Iam pridem modico sobria pallio
Libertas habet hic perpetuam domum :
Qua vir gente vel invida
Vel cinctus sociis audeat eloqvi
Qvod sit cumqve animo: fultaqve legibus Iustum per memores terra tulit decus Fastos; iuraqve libera
Tardis augminibus latius exstruit
Scitorum series innumerabilis.
Qvod si verba animi candida promere
Coniurata vetet cohors
Inducatqve malos in patriam dies
Qvom sentire secus sit vetitum nefas,
Et ius cuiqve suum conticeat metu:
Aucta vi ter et amplius
Per gentes hominum fama Britanniae
Crescat; paene etiam proluat alveos
Omnes auriferi conluvies luti,
Per qvos res fluit imperi;
Me portus tamen hinc aufer ab ostio,
Velox aura; prius qvam moriar, die
Palmas sub medio visam ego templaqve,
Caelum qvae melius tegit.
Who, mindful of the empire which ye held
Over dim chaos, keep revengeful watch
On falling nations, and on kingly lines
About to sink for ever; ye, who shed
Into the passions of earth's giant brood,
And their fierce usages, the sense of justice;
Who clothe the fated battlements of tyranny
With blackness as a funeral pall, and breathe
Through the proud halls of time-embolden'd guilt
Portents of ruin, hear me! In your presence,
For now I feel ye nigh, I dedicate
This arm to the destruction of the king
And of his race! O keep me pitiless!
Expel all human weakness from my frame,
That this keen weapon shake not when his heart Should feel its point; and if he has a child Whose blood is needful to the sacrifice
My country asks, harden my soul to shed it!
King Charles the Second.
Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King,
Whose word no man relies on;
Who never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one.
Παλαίτατοι θεῶν, οἵπερ, ἧς ἀρχῆς τὸ πρὶν
χάους ἀμαυροῦ δεσπόται κατέσχετε
μνήμην ἔχοντες, νῦν ἔθνη φυλάσσετε
ἤδη κάτω νεύοντα, καὶ πεσουμένους
δόμους τυράννων ἔγκοτοι καθήμενοι
οἳ καί τιν' ἐσμῶν γηγενῶν ἐς ἄγρια
ἐμβάλλετ ̓ ἤθη καὶ τρόπους ὠμοὺς δίκην·
οἵ τ ̓ ἀμφ ̓ ἐπάλξεις δωμάτων τυραννικῶν
ὥσπερ τιν' "Αιδου πέπλον ἀμφιβάλλετε
σκότος, δι' αὐλῶν ἐμπνέοντες ἐνδίκως
ἄτην προσημαίνοντας οἰωνοὺς σαφείς·
ἤδη κλύοιτ ̓ ἂν εὐμενεῖς ἐμῶν λιτῶν·
ὑμῶν παρόντων πλησίον, σάφ' οἶδα γάρ,
ταύτην δίδωμι χεῖρ ̓ ἀφιερωμένην
τῇ τοῦ τυράννου καὶ γένους διαφθορά.
πρὸς ταῦτ ̓ ἀνοίκτους κἀκ γυναικείων τρόπων
μεθαρμόσαιτ ̓ ἂν ἀνδρικὰς ἐμοὶ φρένας,
τὸ μὴ τρέμειν τόδ' ἐν σφαγῆς ἀκμῇ ξίφος·
εἰ δ ̓ ἔστ ̓ ἐκείνῳ τέκνον οὗ δεῖται φόνου
τὸ θῦμ ̓ ὅ μ' αἰτεῖ πατρίς, ὅπως δὲ θήξετε
τὸ μή με δρῶντα μαλθακισθῆναι φρένα.
Rex bone, nemo tibi vult credere; tempore nullo Nec stulte loqveris, nec sapienter agis.
Now my brave youths,
Now give a loose to the clean generous steed,
Flourish the whip, nor spare the galling spur;
But in the madness of delight forget
Your fears. Far o'er the rocky hills we range,
And dangerous our course; but in the brave.
True courage never fails. In vain the stream
In foaming eddies whirls: in vain the ditch
Wide gasping, threatens death. The craggy steep,
Where the poor dizzy shepherd crawls with care,
And clings to every twig, gives us no pain;
But down we sweep, as stoops the falcon bold
To pounce his prey. Then up the opponent hill,
By the swift motion slung, we mount aloft:
So ships in winter seas now sliding sink
Adown the steepy wave, then toss'd on high,
Ride on the billows, and defy the storm.
What lengths we pass! Where will the wandering
chase
Lead us bewilder'd? Smooth as swallows skim
The new-shorn mead, and far more swift, we fly.
See my brave pack: now to the head they press,
Jostling in close array, then more diffuse
Obliquely wheel, while from their opening mouths
The vollied thunder breaks. So when the cranes
Their annual voyage steer, with wanton wing
Their figure oft they change, and their loud clang
From cloud to cloud rebounds.
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