Wreath'd in myrtle, my sword I'll conceal,
Like those champions, devoted and brave,
When they plunged in the tyrant their steel,
And to Athens deliverance gave.
Belov'd heroes! your deathless souls roam,
In the joy-breathing isles of the blest;
Where the mighty of old have their home--
Where Achilles and Diomed rest.
In fresh myrtle my blade I'll entwine,
Like Harmodius, the gallant and good,
When he made, at the tutelar shrine,
A libation of Tyranny's blood.
Ye deliverers of Athens from shame--
Ye avengers of Liberty's wrongs!
Endless ages shall cherish your fame,
Embalmed in their echoing songs.
Amongst other translations of this exquisite ode, is one by _Charles
Abraham Elton_, a translator of Hesiod, and of several other Grecian
poems; all of which are in a London edition of two elegant 8vo.
volumes. The first stanza of his version is as follows:
"In myrtle veiled will I my falchion wear;
For thus the patriot sword
Harmodius and Aristogeiton bare,
When they the tyrant's bosom gored,
And bade the men of Athens be
Regenerate in equality."
It is a proof of the fairness with which Mr. Elton has aimed at a
literal rendering of his author, that he has made even the name of
ARISTOGEITON retain its place; as inharmonious a one, perhaps, as ever
"filled the trump of future fame." In the Edinburgh Review for
January, 1833, we find a translation of considerable merit, in the
stanza of "Bruce's Address:" less literal than Mr. Elton's, yet more
brief and simple, and partaking more of the thrilling energy of the
original. In its arrangement, the edition of Ilgen is followed. It is
due to the author of the foregoing translation to say, that it was
written long before the year in which this one was published; and
before he had seen the seven or eight others above mentioned.
"Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive,[1]
Like the falchion of the brave,
Death to Athens' lord that gave,
Death to Tyranny!
Yes! let myrtle wreaths be round,
Such as then the falchion bound,
When with deeds the feast was crown'd,
Done for Liberty!
Voiced by Fame eternally,
Noble pair! your names shall be,
For the stroke that made us free,
When the tyrant fell!
Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,
Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,
There heroic breasts revere thee,
There the mighty dwell!"
[Footnote 1: Sword.]