Prince, you may storm and ban— Joe Millers _are_ a pest, Suppress me if you can! I am a Merry Jest!
These versions from classical passages are pretty close to the original, except where compression was needed, as in the sonnets from Pausanias and Apuleius, or where, as in the case of fragments of Æschylus and Sophocles, a little expansion was required.
_THE graver by Apollo’s shrine_, _Before the Gods had fled_, _would stand_, _A shell or onyx in his hand_, _To copy there the face divine_, _Till earnest touches_, _line by line_, _Had wrought the wonder of the land_ _Within a beryl’s golden band_, _Or on some fiery opal fine_. _Ah_! _would that as some ancient ring_ _To us_, _on shell or stone_, _doth bring_, _Art’s marvels perished long ago_, _So I_, _within the sonnet’s space_, _The large Hellenic lines might trace_, _The statue in the cameo_!
FAIR Helen to the Scæan portals came, Where sat the elders, peers of Priamus, Thymoetas, Hiketaon, Panthöus, And many another of a noble name, Famed warriors, now in council more of fame. Always above the gates, in converse thus They chattered like cicalas garrulous; Who marking Helen, swore “it is no shame That armed Achæan knights, and Ilian men For such a woman’s sake should suffer long. Fair as a deathless goddess seemeth she. Nay, but aboard the red-prowed ships again Home let her pass in peace, not working wrong To us, and children’s children yet to be.”
_Pindar_, _Fr._, 106, 107 (95): B. 4, 129–130, 109 (97): B. 4, 132.
NOW the light of the sun, in the night of the Earth, on the souls of the True Shines, and their city is girt with the meadow where reigneth the rose; And deep is the shade of the woods, and the wind that flits o’er them and through Sings of the sea, and is sweet from the isles where the frankincense blows: Green is their garden and orchard, with rare fruits golden it glows, And the souls of the Blessed are glad in the pleasures on Earth that they knew, And in chariots these have delight, and in dice and in minstrelsy those, And the savour of sacrifice clings to the altars and rises anew.
But the Souls that Persephone cleanses from ancient pollution and stain, These at the end of the age be they prince, be they singer, or seer; These to the world, shall be born as of old, shall be sages again; These of their hands shall be hardy, shall live, and shall die, and shall hear Thanks of the people, and songs of the minstrels that praise them amain, And their glory shall dwell in the land where they dwelt, while year calls unto year!