lii
Introduction
By Robert Duncan, who employs the blank verse that his countryman Thompson had made fashionable again, Edinburgh, 1789.
How pow'rful nature plies the mighty reins
Of th'Universe; by what eternal laws
Her providence preserves the boundless world,
And binds its parts with undissolved tie,
Be this the subject of our tuneful lyre.
Though Libyan lions beauteous chains may wear,
And from their keeper's hands receive their food,
And dread the lashes, which they use to bear;
If blood by chance hath stain'd their horrid mouth,
Their native temper long disus'd returns,
And with loud roar they call themselves to mind,
Release their necks from the dissolved chains,
And first their master, torn with cruel tooth,
With his own blood allays their mad'ning rage.
Of th'Universe; by what eternal laws
Her providence preserves the boundless world,
And binds its parts with undissolved tie,
Be this the subject of our tuneful lyre.
Though Libyan lions beauteous chains may wear,
And from their keeper's hands receive their food,
And dread the lashes, which they use to bear;
If blood by chance hath stain'd their horrid mouth,
Their native temper long disus'd returns,
And with loud roar they call themselves to mind,
Release their necks from the dissolved chains,
And first their master, torn with cruel tooth,
With his own blood allays their mad'ning rage.
An anonymous translation of the verses of Boethius, in octosyllabic quatrains, with the Latin printed opposite, and a translation of Peter Berty's preface, appeared in 1792, London.
How pow'rfully doth nature sway
By prudent vigorous laws, and give
A promptitude still to obey
Throughout the earth on which we live....
By prudent vigorous laws, and give
A promptitude still to obey
Throughout the earth on which we live....
Although a Lion, us'd to bear
A glitt'ring cham, and fed by hand.
May, aw'd through custom, crouch for fear.
If over him his keeper stand;
A glitt'ring cham, and fed by hand.
May, aw'd through custom, crouch for fear.
If over him his keeper stand;
Yet if he once but taste of blood,
How doth his native fury rise.
No longer then to be withstood.
The first upon his master flies.
How doth his native fury rise.
No longer then to be withstood.
The first upon his master flies.
The last translation of the Consolations into English was made by H. R. James, London, 1897.
