High stations, tumult, but not bliss, create;
None think the great unhappy ; but the great.
GREECE
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!
Immortal, though no more; though fallen great!
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
Where grew the arts of war and peace,—
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
Such is the aspect of this shore;
’Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there.
To Greece we give our shining blades.
GREETING (See Farewell, Meeting, Parting)
GRIEF
Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin
Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood,
The holy name of Grief—holy herein,
That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
More grief than ye can weep for. That is well—
That is light grieving!
Nullus dolor est quem non longinquitas temporis minuat ac molliat.
There is no grief which time does not lessen and soften.
Were floods of tears to be unloosed
In tribute to my grief,
The doves of Noah ne'er had roost
Nor found an olive-leaf.
In all the silent manliness of grief.
Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging impotence of woe.
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tarn cari capitis?
What impropriety or limit can there be in our grief for a man so beloved?
On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
Hath left my heart a withered leaf.
Time and change can do no more.
Ponamus nimios gemitus: flagrantior æquo
Non debet dolor esse viri, nec vulnere major.
Let us moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion to the blow he has received.
The only cure for grief is action.
Oh, well has it been said, that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak!
Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.
She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.
There is a solemn luxury in grief.
Se a ciascun l'interno affanno
Si leggesse in fronte scritto,
Quanti mai, che invidia fanno,
Ci farebbero pietà!
If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many would be pitied who are now envied!
What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Great, good, and just, could I but rate
My grief with thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep the world in such a strain
As it should deluge once again;
But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies
More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes,
I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds
And write thy epitaph in blood and wounds.
Strangulat inclusus dolor, atque exæstuat intus,
Cogitur et vires multiplicare suas.
Suppressed grief suffocates, it rages within the breast, and is forced to multiply its strength.
