No food was grateful but from Phœnix hand:
I pass my watchings o’er thy helpless years,
The tender labours, the compliant cares.[23]
Pope.
But even the highest beauties of the original receive additional lustre from this admirable translator.
A striking example of this kind has been remarked by Mr. Melmoth.[24] It is the translation of that picture in the end of the eighth book of the Iliad, which Eustathius esteemed the finest night-piece that could be found in poetry:
Ὡς δ’ ὁτ εν ουρανῶ αστρα φαεινην αμφι σεληνην,
Φαίνετ’ ἀριπρεπέα, ὅτε τ’ ἔπλετο νήνεμος αἰθὴρ,
Ἔκ τ’ ἔφανον πᾶσαι σκοπιαί, καὶ πρώονες ἄκροι,
Καὶ νάπαι· οὐρανόθεν δ’ ἄρ’ ὑπεῤῥάγη ἄσπετος αἰθὴρ,