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Parody of a Translation..

..from the 'Medea' of Euripides.

  1 Err shall they not, who resolute explore
      Time's gloomy backward with judicious eyes;
    And, scanning right the practices of yore,
      Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise.
  2 They to the dome where smoke with curling play
      Announced the dinner to the regions round,
    Summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay,
      And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound.
  3 The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill,
      By quivering string or modulated wind,
    Trumpet or lyre--to their harsh bosoms chill,
      Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find.
  4 Oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun,
      Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around;
    Where gloom-enamour'd Mischief loves to dwell,
      And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound.
  5 When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish,
      And purple nectar glads the festive hour;
    The guest, without a want, without a wish,
      Can yield no room to music's soothing power.

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