Introduction
lii
Book iii, metr. 2.
Pleased is the Muse to sing in artless verse
The power of Nature, and her Laws rehearse;
How the presiding Dame, with steady reins,
The giddy circle of the spheres retains;
How by her nod, as by a magic spell.
All things are aw'd nor dare nor can rebel.
The ranging monarch of the Libyan plains,
Tam'd by confinement and subdu'd by chains,
Seems all his brutal fierceness to forego,
Receives the food his keeper's hands bestow.
Beholds the lifted staff, and dreads the falling blow.
Bnt soon provok'd by wounds and flowing gore.
The monster rouses and begins to roar;
Disdains his prison and contemns his chain.
With native pride disowns his tyrant's reign,
Devours the wretch, and seeks the savage wilds again.
The power of Nature, and her Laws rehearse;
How the presiding Dame, with steady reins,
The giddy circle of the spheres retains;
How by her nod, as by a magic spell.
All things are aw'd nor dare nor can rebel.
The ranging monarch of the Libyan plains,
Tam'd by confinement and subdu'd by chains,
Seems all his brutal fierceness to forego,
Receives the food his keeper's hands bestow.
Beholds the lifted staff, and dreads the falling blow.
Bnt soon provok'd by wounds and flowing gore.
The monster rouses and begins to roar;
Disdains his prison and contemns his chain.
With native pride disowns his tyrant's reign,
Devours the wretch, and seeks the savage wilds again.
By the Rev. Philip Ridpath, Nonconformist minister, who alludes in his dedicatory epistle to the translations by King Alfred and Queen Elizabeth, and gives a Life of Boethius. London, 1785. He uses the octosyllabic couplet, much affected by Nonconformists of his day.
I'll tune my voice, my harp I'll string,
And Nature's wondrous laws I'll sing,
That o'er the world's wide circuit reign,
And govern this discordant scene.
The lion, on the Libyan plain,
Submits to wear a servile chain;
Devours in peace his offer'd cheer,
And dreads his keeper's lash severe.
But, torn by stripes, should the warm gore
Stream his majestick visage o'er.
His noble nature straight returns.
With all his native rage he burns.
His awful roar alarms the plain.
Furious he bounds and bursts his chain,
Springs on his hapless keeper first
And with his blood allays his thirst.
And Nature's wondrous laws I'll sing,
That o'er the world's wide circuit reign,
And govern this discordant scene.
The lion, on the Libyan plain,
Submits to wear a servile chain;
Devours in peace his offer'd cheer,
And dreads his keeper's lash severe.
But, torn by stripes, should the warm gore
Stream his majestick visage o'er.
His noble nature straight returns.
With all his native rage he burns.
His awful roar alarms the plain.
Furious he bounds and bursts his chain,
Springs on his hapless keeper first
And with his blood allays his thirst.
