Posts tagged ‘henry william tytler’

Wednesday, 6 June 2018

King Log – A Fable by Henry William Tytler

‘Tis said the croaking Race, of old,
Of Liberty grown tir’d,
Become seditious, vain and bold
From Jove a King desir’d,
The God, who Men and Croakers rules,
Smil’d at their discontent,
And soon, in pity to the Fools,
A harmless Monarch sent.
Red streams of Light’ning flash’d on high;
Loud Thunder shook the Bog;
And swift descended, from the sky,
A huge unwieldy Log.
Its dashing fall the Nation heard;
And trembled in their caves;
But, when the tumult ceas’d, they rear’d
Their heads above the waves,
At length, approaching by degrees,
And more familiar grown,
The State, with indignation, sees,
A Log upon the Throne.

Again loud clamours fill’d the place,
Their Chiefs, with one accord,
An active Ruler for the Race,
Besought from Heav’n’s high Lord,
The God, to punish discontent,
Denounc’d their future woe
And soon a vengeful Monarch sent,
To give the fated blow.
Lo! from the Lake’s remotest bed,
A hissing voice is heard;
And o’er the waves, his horrid head
A Water-Hydra rear’d.
With crest erect, and sparkling eyes,
He circles round the shores,
In ev’ry creek and corner pries,
And half the Race devours.
Ye Britons, to this Tale, give ear,
Which Æsop told before,
And you may now, with profit, hear,
As Athens did of yore.
Let Opposition cease to grieve
For good, yet unpossess’d,
Live while they may and still believe
The present hour the best.

From: Tytler, Henry William, Miscellanies in Verse, consisting of Poems, Tales, Translations, &c., 1828, Asiatic Press: Calcutta, pp. 252-253.

Date: c1790

By: Henry William Tytler (1752-1808)

Tuesday, 5 June 2018

If Sober, and Inclin’d to Sport by Callimachus

If sober, and inclin’d to sport,
To you, my fair one, I resort;
The still-forbidden bliss to prove,
Accuse me then, and blame my love.
But if to rashness I incline,
Accuse me not, but blame the wine:
When Love and Wine at once inspire,
What mortal can control his fire.
Of late I came, I know not how,
Embrac’d my fair, and kiss’d her too;
It might be wrong; I feel no shame,
And, for the bliss, will bear the blame.

From: Callimachus and Tytler, H. W., The Works of Callimachus, translated into English verse. The Hymns and Epigrams from the Greek; with the Coma Berenices from the Latin of Catallus; with the original text , and notes carefully selected from former commentators, and additional observations, 1793, T. Davison: London, p. 248.

Date: 3rd century BCE (original in Greek); 1793 (translation in English)

By: Callimachus (310/305 BCE-240 BCE)

Translated by: Henry William Tytler (1752-1808)