TRANSLATION.

WOMAN A TREASURY OF EVILS.

What god? or who was it? I ask, contriv'd
Thee, O Woman, evil Woman? who conniv'd
Together—who—in this supremest crime
Of the divinities, before old Time
Was born? Alas, most dire calamity
As e'er has come upon humanity!
Whence was the hand, ye Powers, so evil-skill'd
In sin and mischief, so perversely will'd
To curse this world of ours? But hold! I blunder;
I must to the dark regions lying under,
Ev'n Hell, descend. Not Thee, O God above,
For Thou art pitiful, for Thou art Love:
Not one of all the gracious Pow'rs supernal;
But ye, O Furies, from the pit infernal,
Ye, ye the work devis'd, matur'd, achiev'd,
And brought to Man; to Man—frail Man! deceiv'd:
Ho, hosts of evil! ho! on you I call:
Behold your offspring diabolical.
Does it a blush raise?—Spirits of evil, speak!—
Such as expos'd crime brings to mortal cheek?
Lo, these your works yourselves surpass, I wis;
Clap hands, ye potentates of the Abyss.
Rulers of Erebus, is it not a wonder,
Worthy of Hell's most resonant swift thunder,
That ye such thing contrivèd have as Heaven
Never cast out, nor e'er to Hell was driven?
Take ye your praise, your praise; this work o' your hands
Absolute in mischief 'bove compar'son stands.
Or if ye silent be, your work will speak
Your praise. Ha, ha! what mean ye that ye shriek
Thus as I meditate with pulse of fear
Upon this monster, Woman? Ah, 'tis clear;
I see your guile and skill. The gods above
Would have all ills within one scant breast move!
To bed, Pluto, king of the nether world;
Sleep on in peace; be every banner furl'd;
Ye fires, go out; Man's ruin is complete;
No need of you—in Woman all woes meet:
In her, ye devils, ye have so contriv'd
That Tempter, who—better than had ye div'd
To furthest Tartarus—Man's protecting wall
Shall breach. Earth's fury—Woman—passes all! G.

Latin Poems.

PART SECOND. SECULAR.

II.