Antiquities of nations now no more;
To penetrate each distant realm unknown,
And range excursive o'er the untravell'd zone.
In vain--for rude adversity's command 210
Still on the margin of each famous land,
With unrelenting ire his steps opposed,
And every gate of hope against him closed.
Permit my verse, ye blest Pierian train!
To call Arion this ill-fated swain;
For, like that bard unhappy, on his head
Malignant stars their hostile influence shed:
Both, in lamenting numbers, o'er the deep
With conscious anguish taught the harp to weep;
And both the raging surge in safety bore 220
Amid destruction, panting to the shore:
This last, our tragic story from the wave
Of dark oblivion haply yet may save;
With genuine sympathy may yet complain,
While sad remembrance bleeds at every vein.
These, chief among the ship's conducting train,
Her path explored along the deep domain;
Train'd to command, and range the swelling sail,
Whose varying force conforms to every gale.
Charged with the commerce, hither also came 230
A gallant youth, Palemon was his name:
A father's stern resentment doom'd to prove,
He came the victim of unhappy love!
His heart for Albert's beauteous daughter bled,
For her a sacred flame his bosom fed:
Nor let the wretched slaves of folly scorn