Hostibus, et toties precibus mala damna rependunt,
Indigni quos terra ferat. Tu lædere parcas
Innocuos, cultumque Dei cognosce supremi."
Dixerat, et liquidum resolutus in äera fugit;
At natus trepido commotus pectore surgit,
Nocturnos volvens visus, vocemque paternam,
Nunc huc nunc illuc ; qualis stridente procella
Jactatur medio ratis æquore, jamque profundo
Mergitur, atque iterum summis extollitur undis :
Nil valet ars hominis. Sic illi somnia mentem
Exagitant, nec scire potest credatne, fidemne
Deneget omnino, et temnat miracula noctis.
Interea hæc meditans cæca spatiatur in umbra
Anxius: ignis abest lunæ, et majora recusant
Sidera fulgorem; nebula velantur opaca
Omnia; quum subito lumen (mirabile visu)
Eoo apparet cælo, divinaque Ligni
Forma Salutiferi; circum patet area lucis ;
Profugiunt vanique metus, omnesque repente
Excessere animo curæ; prostratus adorat
Cœlorum Dominum, Christum, Patremque Jehovam:
Totaque mutatos inducit vita colores.
Non aliter (si fas fatorum arcana referre
Mortali et lingua cœlestia dicere, soli
Nota Deo) huic nostro cum finis venerit orbi,
Mira per ardentem radiabunt lumina mundum :
Attonita horrebunt formidine sæcla virorum,
Consciaque offensi trepidabunt numinis iras.
FILIUS in medio, vestitus luce, triumphum
Calicolûm innumera ducet comitante caterva.
Ille piis vitam, sceleratis Ille rependet
Exitium, justa compensans omnia libra.
Tum fessis requies; tum spem longamque Redemptor
Anxietatem adimet mundo, solvetque timores.
HENRY V, ACT IV, SCENE III.
What's he, that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland ?-No my fair cousin :
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour,
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold;
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not, if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But, if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour,
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more :
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he, which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called-the feast of Crispian :
He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
τίς εὔχεται τοιαῦτα ; μῶν οὐμὸς κάσις ;
οὐ γὰρ σὺ τοῦτό γ ̓, ὦ φίλ'· εἰ θανεῖν χρέων,
ἀρκοῦμεν ἡμεῖς πατρίδος οὔνεκα βλάβης
θνήσκοντες, εἰ δ ̓ αὖ ζῆν, ὅσῳ γ' ἐλάσσονες,
τόσῳδε μεῖζον ἕξομεν δόξης μέρος.
μὴ πρὸς θεῶν ἕν ̓ ἄνδρα προσθεῖναι πόθει·
οὐκ εἰμ ̓ ἔγωγε τὴν φύσιν φιλάργυρος,
οὐ μοι μέλει γ' ὅσοισι τὴν τροφὴν νέμω,
κεὶ τὰς ἐμάς τις ἀμφιβάλλεται στολὰς,
οὐδ ̓ αὖ τόδ' ἀλγεῖ· ταῦτα καὶ τοιαῦτ ̓ ἐγὼ
τίθεμαι παρ' οὐδὲν, καὶ λέγω τἄξω μόνον·
εἰ δ ̓ ἐσθ ̓ ἁμαρτεῖν διὰ πόθου τιμῆς μολεῖν,
ἔπειτ ̓ ἐγὼ πλεῖσθ' εἷς ἀνὴρ ἁμαρτάνω.
μὴ δὴ σὺ μήδ' ἕν ̓ ἄνδρα προσθεῖναι θέλε.
οὐκ ἂν τοσαύτης δῆθ ̓ ἁμαρτάνοιμ' ἐγὼ
τιμῆς, ὅσησπερ εἷς γε προστεθεὶς ἀνὴρ
ἔμελλεν ἄν με νοσφίσαι, κοινωνὸς ὢν,
οὐδ ̓ ἀντ ̓ ἀρίστων ἐλπίδων σωτηρίας·
σήμαινε τοίνυν, ὦ κασίγνητον κάρα,
κατὰ στράτον μου πάντα, κηρύκων ὕπο,
ὅσοι γε μὴ θέλουσι, δειλίας υπο,
μένειν, τοιούτους ὡς τάχιστ' αἴρειν πόδα
σφραγίδα δώσω τοῖσδ ̓, ἵν ̓ ἐξέλθωσι νῦν,
ἀργύριά τ' εἰς τἀφόδια προσδοθήσεται·
κείνῳ γὰρ οὔ τοι συνθανεῖν θέλοιμεν ἂν,
τῷ νῦν σὺν ἡμῖν κατθανεῖν φοβουμένῳ·
τοῦ Κριστιάνος φῶς τόδ' ἐστ ̓ ἐπώνυμον·
χὤστις πατρῴους ἐς δόμους ἀφίξεται,
ἐκ τῆσδ ̓ ἁμίλλης ἀβλάβης, ἄκρων ἔπι *
ὁδοιπορήσει λεγομένης τῆσδ ̓ ἡμέρας,
κλύων τε τοὔνομ ̓ εὐθὺς ὀρθώσει κάρα
He, that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
And say-to morrow is saint Crispian :
Then he will strip his sleeve, and show his scars,
And say, these wounds I had on Crispian's day.
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day: Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,—
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd:
This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now a bed,
Shall think themselves, accurs'd, they were not here; And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon saint Crispin's day.
κἄν τις τόδ' ἡμαρ' σῶς ὑπεκδραμών ποτε πόλιος γένηται, δαῖτα τῇ πρὶν ἑσπέρα ἔτους ἑκάστου τοῖς φίλοις θήσει, λέγων, τὴν Κριστιάνος αὔριον τιμήσομεν, δείξει θ ̓ ἅμ ̓ ουλὰς, ὠλένην ἐκλωπίσας, λέξει τ', ἰδοὺ σημεῖα τῆς τόθ' ἡμέρας· ἀμνημονοῦσιν οἱ γέροντες, ἀλλ ̓ ὅμως λήθη κρατήσει πάντα, πρὶν κεῖνον λαθεῖν ἃ τηνικαῦτ ̓ ἔδρασε, κατ ̓ ἐπεύξεται· καὶ δὴ τόθ' ἡμῶν ὀνόματ', ὡς οἰκεῖ ̓ ἔπη, ἀνὰ στόμ ̓ ἕξουσ ̓ ἄνδρες, οἵ τε συμπόται ἀεὶ παρ' οἴνῳ μνημονεύσουσιν πάλιν· κοὐ μὴ παρέλθῃ τῆσδέ γ' ἡμέρας σέβας ἐκ τοῦδ', ἁπάντων ἔστ ̓ ἂν ᾖ τέλος, τὸ μὴ οὐ ἡμῶν ἕκαστον μνημονεύεσθαι λόγῳ, παύρους μὲν, ὀλβίους δὲ, συγγενῆ λόχον· ἐμοὶ γὰρ ἤν τις αἷμα κοινὸν ἐκχέῃ, ἀδελφὸς ἔσται, κἂν γένει κάκιστος ᾖ, τοὐντεῦθεν οὗτος εὐγενὴς ἀκούσεται. οἱ δ ̓ εὐγενεῖς νῦν ̓Αγγλικῆς ἐπὶ χθονὸς λέκτροις κλιθέντες, δυσποτμώτατοι βροτῶν δόξουσιν εἶναι, τῆσδ ̓ ἀπουσίας χάριν, ἀνανδρίαν τε περιβαλοῦσ ̓ αὑτοῖς, ὅταν ἡμῶν λέγῃ τις, τῇδ' ὃς ἐν μάχῃ παρῆν.
WILLIAM LONSDALE HETHERINGTON.
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