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Translated by C. T. Brooks
* * * * * HAIL, O illustrious river! renowned for thy fields and thy farmers! | |
| River that washest the walls of the Belgæ’s Imperial city! | |
| River whose ridges are crowned with the vine’s odoriferous clusters! | |
| River whose meadows are clothed by the grass with an emerald verdure! | |
| Ships on thy bosom thou bearest,—a sea; a river, thou rollest | 5 |
| Down from the uplands; a lake, in the crystalline depth of thy waters; | |
| Yet like a rill from the mountains, with silvery foot canst meander; | |
| Nor can the coldest spring yield such refreshment as thine is. | |
| River and brooklet and lake art thou, and fountain and ocean,— | |
| Ocean, with ebb and flow of its multitudinous waters. | 10 |
| Peaceful and placid the speed of thy current; no howling of storm-winds | |
| Vexes thy brow; no dark rocks lie lurking to anger thy bosom. * * * * * | |
| Oft, in the bend of thy current, thou lookest across, and with wonder | |
| Seemest to see thy own waves gliding backward, and then for a moment | |
| Thou, in thine own proper course, (so dreamest thou haply?) dost linger; | 15 |
| Yet with no slime-gendered reeds thou lazily linest thy borders, | |
| Nor on thy shore in mud and ooze dost thou sluggishly stagnate, | |
| But all unsoiled and unwet come the feet to thy silvery margin. * * * * * | |
| Go, and with Phrygian mosaics inlay thou the floor of thy mansion, | |
| Till like the face of a mirror the marble-paved corridors glisten! | 20 |
| I, meanwhile, despising what wealth and luxury offer, | |
| Wonder at Nature’s works, where never a miserly boaster, | |
| Not even poverty, grasps, in the joy of the lavish creation. | |
| Silvery sand and pure pebbles adorn this clean floor of the river, | |
| And it retains in remembrance no trace of the last passing footprint. | 25 |
| Down through the crystalline depths of the waters we see to the bottom. | |
| They have no mysteries to hide; and, as in the clear upper heavens | |
| Ranges the eye far round through all the circling horizon, | |
| What time no breath of wind shakes a leaflet or ripples the water, | |
| So in the blue heaven below the eve freely ranges or lingers, | 30 |
| And in the azure-light chambers sees manifold shapes of rare beauty; | |
| Plants that gracefully wave in the silent sway of the waters, | |
| And through green groves of moss glittering jewels of sand. * * * * * | |
| Lo! how the slippery swarms of fishes that chase one another | |
| Through the green labyrinth there, in and out, in perpetual motion, | 35 |
| Charm and bewilder at once the eye of the wearied beholder! | |
| All the names and the tribes of the numberless finny creation, | |
| Whether of those that swim down stream on their way to the ocean, | |
| Or those that follow each other up-river in shoals never ending. * * * * * | |
| There, in the liquid glass, the bending forms of the oarsmen,— | 40 |
| Shadowy oarsmen, dipping alternate in time with the real, | |
| Only in inverse position, are seen gliding merrily onward. | |
| How the illusive picture delights the charmed eyes of the young folk! | |
| Such the ecstatic delight of the child when the nurse at the toilet | |
| Holds up before her the glass and shows her her shadowy sister, | 45 |
| Looking so real to her,—as if ’t were her double incarnate,— | |
| That she must needs imprint a kiss, in her wondering transport, | |
| On the blank metal that stares with a cold, unanswering surface. * * * * * | |
| But what end can I find of celebrating thy waters, | |
| Blue as the blue of the ocean, that mirrors the heavens, O Mosella! | 50 |
| Lo! what innumerable streams come down, either side, from the mountains, | |
| Eager to mingle their waters with thine! full fain would they linger | |
| In the fair regions they pass; but a yearning far mightier bids them | |
| Baptize themselves into thy name, and bury themselves in thy bosom. * * * * * | |
| Yea, majestic Mosella! had Smyrna but lent thee her singer, | 55 |
| Mantua bequeathed thee her bard, not Simois, then, nor Ilyssus, | |
| Nay, not Tiber himself, should go before thee in glory! | |
| Mighty Rome,—thy forgiveness! Far from thy greatness be envy! | |
| Ever my prayer is: May Nemesis (strange to the tongue of the Latin) | |
| Guard thee, of empire the seat,—guard, Rome! thy illustrious Fathers! | 60 |
| Hail! O Mosella, to thee, great parent of fruits and of peoples! | |
| Thee an heroic nobility graces, a youth of tried prowess, | |
| Thee an excellent speech that rivals the Latian language. | |
| Nay, to thy sons has been given by Nature, with earnest, grave faces, | |
| And with refinement of manners, the deep-welling joy of the spirit. | 65 |
| Not old Rome alone can point with pride to her Catos, | |
| Nor was the model of truth and integrity buried forever | |
| With the just Aristides, sometime the glory of Athens. * * * * * | |
| Let me sing to the close the praise of the glorious river, | |
| Follow the sweep of its tide rejoicing along the green meadows, | 70 |
| Till in the waves of the Rhine it shall come to receive consecration! | |
| Open, O Rhine! thy blue bosom! Spread wide thy green fluttering garments | |
| To the new stream that with thine would mingle its sisterly waters! | |
| Nor does it bring thee alone the wealth of its waters; but stately | |
| Sweeps from the walls of the city, the princely that once saw in triumph | 75 |
| Father and son return from Nicer and Lupodunum. * * * * * | |
| Proud grew the laurel and high from the field of the freshly won battles; | |
| Soon other lands may bear others; but ye, as brother and sister, | |
| Roll in majesty on to the purple expanse of the ocean! | |
| Fear not, O glorious Rhine! that thy name and thy fame shall be lessened! | 80 |
| Far from the host be all envy! Thy name and renown are immortal! | |
| Sure of thy glory, then open thy wide arms to welcome thy sister! | |
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