Forced to retire by fury of the wind:

Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind;

Now, one the better; then, another best:

Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered:
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both,
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so:
For what is in this world, but grief and woe?

O God! methinks it were a happy life

To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run;
How many make the hour full complete,
How many hours bring about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.

ὡς ἡνίχ ̓ αὐτὸς ἐξαναγκασθείς ποτε ἀνέμων ὑπείκει πόντος ἰσχυρῷ μένει· νικᾷ δὲ πόντος ἄλλοτ', ἄλλοθ ̓ ἡ πνοή· κρείσσων δ ̓ ἑκάτερος ἐν μέρει θ' ἥσσων κυρεῖ· ἀεὶ δ ̓ ἐρείδων στέρν ̓ ἐπὶ στέρνοις βία σκληρὸς παλαιστὴς καρτερεῖ νίκης πέρι, ἀλλ ̓ οὔτε καλλίνικος, οὔθ ̓ ἡσσώμενος χὠ δεινὸς οὕτως ἐστ ̓ ἀγὼν ἰσόῤῥοπος. ἤδη παρ' ὄχθῳ τῷδ ̓ ἐγὼ κλινῶ δέμας· ἔστω δὲ νείκους ὧν θεὸς θέλει κράτος. γυνὴ γὰρ ἡ 'μὴ καί μ' ἄναξ Κλιφόρδιος μάχης ἀπώσαντ', ἐνδατούμενοι λόγους ὅρκῳ τε προστιθέντες ὡς μάλιστα δὴ ἡμῶν ἀπόντων εὐτυχεῖ τὰ πράγματα. εἰ μηκέτ' εἴην· σὺν θεῷ δ ̓ εἰρήσεται· τί γὰρ τὰ θνητὰ πλὴν ἄχος τε καὶ δύη; οἴμοι· δοκῶ γὰρ εὐτυχοῦς κύρσαι βίου, ὃς οὐδὲν ἄλλο πλήν τις ἀγρότης ἔφυ ὥσπερ δ ̓ ἐγὼ νῦν, ἐπὶ λόφῳ καθήμενος, ἐν γνώμοσίν τε δεξιῶς γράφων τύπους ὥρας δρόμον δηλούντας, ἐξαντλεῖ βίον· ὡς ἂν μάθῃ χρόνου πόδ ̓ ὡς πορεύεται, ὅσος ποθ ̓ ὥρας μοῖραν ἐκπλήσει χρόνος, ὅσος δὲ μέτρον ἡμέρας τελεσφόρου ὅσαι δ' ἔτους πληροῦσιν ἡμέραι κύκλον, ὅσον δὲ μῆκος ἐκτενεῖ θνητὸς βίου.

1 Cf. Soph. Elect. 47. ὅρκῳ προστιθείς.

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2 Herod. ii. 109. πόλους καὶ γνώμονας, κ. τ. λ. Schweigh, in Lex. Herod. γνώμων “ horologium, solare.”

[1840.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT 1. Sc. 3.

Agam. THE ample proposition, that hope makes

In all designs begun on earth below,

Fails in the promised largeness: checks and disasters
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd;
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us,

That we come short of our suppose so far,

That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand; Sith every action that hath gone before,

Whereof we have record, trial did draw

Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,

And that unbodied figure of the thought,

That gave 't surmised shape. Why then, you princes,
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works;
And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought else

But the protractive trials of great Jove,
To find persistive constancy in men?

The fineness of which metal is not found

In fortune's love: for then, the bold and coward,
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,

The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin:

ΑΓ. Α ΤΟΙ προτείνειν ἀφθόνως ἐλπὶς φιλεῖ· ἐν τοῖς βροτείων φροιμίοις βουλευμάτων, οὐ καλλικάρποις ἐμμένει τάδ' ἐγγυαῖς· ἐν γὰρ πτυχαῖσι τῶν ἄγαν ὑψιζύγων ἔργων ἀνάγκαι βλαστάνουσι δύσμαχοι, ὡς γοῦν, ἀθροίσει συῤῥοῇ τ ̓ ὀποῦ, πλοκαὶ βλάπτουσιν αἰσχρῶς τὴν πρὶν ὑγιηρὰν πίτυν, διαστρόφοισιν ἐμποδίζουσαι πλάναις τὸ μηκέτ ̓ αὖθις αὖ ποτ ̓ ὀρθῶσαι φυήν.— οὐδ ̓, ἄνδρες, ἤδη νεόγονόν τι χρῆμ ̓ ἔφυ, ἡμᾶς μὲν ὧδε τῶν πάροιθεν ἐλπίδων μακρὰν λελείφθαι, καν βάθροις οὔσης τι Τροίας, ἔτη περ ἑπτὰ πυργηρουμένης. καὶ πάντα γάρ τοι τῶν προτοῦ πεπραγμένων, ὅσ ̓ οἴδαμεν δέλτοισιν ἐγγεγραμμένα, ἀντέσπασέν τε καὶ παρήλλαξεν βία ἡ πεῖρα κωλύουσα μὴ τυχεῖν σκοποῦ, μηδ', ἧς ἔδωκεν ἡ τεκοῦσα φρὴν, τύπῳ μορφῆς ἀσήμου δυσκρίτου θ ̓ ὁμοῤῥοθεῖν. τί δ ̓ οὖν, ἄνακτες, οἷα νῦν σπουδάζομεν ὁρῶντες αἰσχύνεσθε; ταῦθ ̓ ἡγούμενοι ἡμῶν ὄνειδος, ὄντα γ ̓ οὐδὲν ἄλλο, πλὴν τὰς τοῦ μεγίστου Ζηνὸς ἀμβολὰς, ἵνα τὸ καρτερεῖν ἄπριγδ ̓ ἐν ἀνθρώποις ἴδῃ· οὗ δὴ τὸ κάλλος ἐν μὲν εὐνοίᾳ τύχης ἀμηχάνως ζητοῦσιν ἐξευρεῖν ἔχει·

ὁ γὰρ φύσιν γ ̓ ἄσπλαγχνος εὔψυχός τ ̓ ἀνήρ, χώ μῶρος, ὅστις τ ̓ ἦν ἐπήβολος φρενών,

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But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,

Puffing at all, winnows the light away:

And what hath mass or matter, by itself

Lies, rich in virtue, and unmingled.

Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat,

Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply

Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance

Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth,

How many shallow bauble boats dare sail

Upon her patient breast, making their way

With those of nobler bulk!

But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage

The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold

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The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,

Bounding between the two moist elements,

Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat,

Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now

Co-rival'd greatness? either to harbour fled,

Or made a toast for Neptune.