The exploit of Harmodius and Aristogiton, in slaying Hipparchus, tyrant of Athens, on the festal day of Minerva—hiding their poniards in myrtle wreaths, which they pretended to carry in honor of the Goddess, was celebrated in an Ode, the unsurpassed strength and beauty of which, it has utterly baffled the skill of all English versifiers to transfuse into our language. The learned are not agreed as to the author of this noble specimen of classic minstrelsy; though by most, it is ascribed to Callistratus. Some have set it down to Alcæus; misled, perhaps, by the tyrant-hating spirit it breathes,—so fully in unison with the deep, trumpet tones of his "golden lyre." Unhappily for the paternity of this ode, he died eighty years before the event it celebrates. Of no other relic of antiquity, probably, have so many translations been attempted. I have seen seven or eight. If the following be added to so many woful failures, the author will not be greatly troubled. It never was in print before—I believe.
HYMN,
IN HONOR OF HARMODIUS AND ARISTOGITON.
TRANSLATION.
| Wreath'd in myrtle, my sword I'll conceal, Like those champions, devoted and brave, When they plunged in the tyrant their steel, And to Athens deliverance gave. Belov'd heroes! your deathless souls roam, In the joy-breathing isles of the blest; Where the mighty of old have their home— Where Achilles and Diomed rest. In fresh myrtle my blade I'll entwine, Like Harmodius, the gallant and good, When he made, at the tutelar shrine, A libation of Tyranny's blood. Ye deliverers of Athens from shame— Ye avengers of Liberty's wrongs! Endless ages shall cherish your fame, Embalmed in their echoing songs. |
Amongst other translations of this exquisite ode, is one by Charles Abraham Elton, a translator of Hesiod, and of several other Grecian poems; all of which are in a London edition of two elegant 8vo. volumes. The first stanza of his version is as follows:
| "In myrtle veiled will I my falchion wear; For thus the patriot sword Harmodius and Aristogeiton bare, When they the tyrant's bosom gored, And bade the men of Athens be Regenerate in equality." |
It is a proof of the fairness with which Mr. Elton has aimed at a literal rendering of his author, that he has made even the name of ARISTOGEITON retain its place; as inharmonious a one, perhaps, as ever "filled the trump of future fame." In the Edinburgh Review for January, 1833, we find a translation of considerable merit, in the stanza of "Bruce's Address:" less literal than Mr. Elton's, yet more brief and simple, and partaking more of the thrilling energy of the original. In its arrangement, the edition of Ilgen is followed. It is due to the author of the foregoing translation to say, that it was written long before the year in which this one was published; and before he had seen the seven or eight others above mentioned.
| "Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive,1 Like the falchion of the brave, Death to Athens' lord that gave, Death to Tyranny! Yes! let myrtle wreaths be round, Such as then the falchion bound, When with deeds the feast was crown'd, Done for Liberty! Voiced by Fame eternally, Noble pair! your names shall be, For the stroke that made us free, When the tyrant fell! Death, Harmodius! came not near thee, Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee, There heroic breasts revere thee, There the mighty dwell!" |