THE DESPAIRING LOVER. The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time; FROM THE TWENTY-THIRD IDYLLIUM OP The violet sweet, but quickly past the prime; THEOCRITUS. White lilies hang their heads, and soon decay, And whiter snow in minutes melts away: With inauspicious love, a wretched swain Such is your blooming youth, and withering so: Pursued the fairest nymph of all the plain; The time will come, it will, when you shall know Fairest indeed, but prouder far than fair, The rage of love; your haughty heart shall burn She plung'd him hopeless in a deep despair: In flames like mine, and meet a like return. Her heavenly form too haughtily she priz'd, Obdurate as you are, oh! hear at least His person hated, and his gifts despis'd; My dying prayers, and grant my last request. Nor knew the force of Cupid's cruel darts, When first you ope your doors, and, passing by, Nor fear'd his awful power on human hearts; The sad ill-omen'd object meets your eye, But either from her hopeless lover fled, Think it not lost, a moment if you stay; Or with disdainful glances shot him dead. The breathless wretch, so made by you, survey: No kiss, no look, to cheer the drooping boy; Some cruel pleasure will from thence arise, No word she spoke, she scorn'd ev'n to deny. To view the mighty ravage of your eyes. But, as a hunted panther casts about [scout, I wish (but oh! my wish is vain, I fear) Her glaring eyes and pricks her listening ears to The kind oblation of a falling tear: So she, to shun his toils, her cares employ'd, | Then loose the knot, and take me from the place, And fiercely in her savage freedom joy'd. Sfrown, / And spread your mantle o'er my grizly face; Her mouth she writh'd, her forehead taught tó | Upon my livid lips bestow a kiss: Her eyes to sparkle fires to love unknown : O envy not the dead; they feel not bliss ! Her sallow cheeks her envious mind did shew, Nor fear your kisses can restore my breath; And every feature spoke aloud the curstness of a Ev'n you are not more pityless than Death. Yet could not he his obvious fate escape: [shrew. Then for my corpse a homely grave provide, His love still dress'd her in a pleasing shape; Which love and me from public scorn may hide. And every sullen frown, and bitter scorn, Thrice call upon my name, thrice beat your But fann'd the fuel that too fast did burn. breast, Long time, unequal to his mighty pain, And hail me thrice to everlasting rest: He strove to curb it, but he strove in vain : Last let my tomb this sad inscription bear: At last his woes broke out, and begg'd relief “A wretch whom love has kill'd lies buried here; With tears, the dumb petitioners of grief: O passengers, Aminta's eyes beware.” With tears so tender as adorn'd his love, Thus having said, and furious with his love, And any heart, but only hers, would move. He heav'd with more tban human force to move Trembling before her bolted doors he stood, A weighty stone (the labour of a team) And there pour'd out th’unprofitable flood; And rais'd from thence be reach'd the neighbouring Staring bis eyes, and haggard was his look ; beam: Then, kissing first the threshold, thus he spoke : Around its bulk a sliding knot he throws, “Ah nymph, more cruel than of human race! And fitted to his neck the fatal noose: Thy tigress heart belies thy angel face: Then spurning backward took a swing, till Death Too well thou show'dst thy pedigree from stone: Crept up, and stopt the passage of his breath. Thy granddame's was the first by Pyrrha thrown: The bounce burst ope the door; the scornful fair Unworthy thou to be so long desir'd; Relentless look'd, and saw him beat his quivering But so my love, and so my fate requird. feet in air; I beg pot now (for 'tis in vain) to live; Nor wept his fate, nor cast a pitying eye, Bit take this gift, the last that I can give. Nor took him down, but brush'd regardless by: This friendly cord shall soon decide the strife And, as she past, her chance or fate was sach, Betwixt my lingering love and loathsome life: Her garments touch'd the dead, polluted by the This moment puts an end to all my pain; touch: I shall no more despair, nor thou disdain. Next to the dance, thence to the bath did move; Farewell, ungrateful and unkind! I go The bath was sacred to the god of love; Condemn'd by thee to those sad shades below. Whose injur'd image, with a wrathful eye, I go th' extremest remedy to prove, . Stood threatening from a pedestal on high: To drink oblivion, and to drench my love: Nodding a while, and watchful of his blow, There happily to lose my long desires : He fell; and falling crush'd th'ungrateful nymph But ah! what draught so deep to quench my fires? below: Farewell, ye never-opening gates, ye stones, Her gushing blood the pavement all besmear'd; And threshold guilty of my midnight moans. And this her last expiring voice was heard; What I have suffer'd here, ye know too well; “ Lovers farewell, revenge has reach'd my scorn; What I shall do, the gods and I can tell, | Thus warn'd, be wise, and love for love return." TRANSLATIONS FROM LUCRETIUS. THO | Because the brutal business of the war Is manag'd by thy dreadful servant's care; BEGINNING OF THE FIRST BOOK Who oft retires from fighting fields, to prove OF The pleasing pains of thy eternal love; And, panting on thy breast, supinely lies, While with thy heavenly form he feeds his fa mish'd eyes: DELIGHT of human-kinds, and gods above, Sucks in with open lips thy balmy breath, Parent of Rome, propitious queen of love, , By turns restord to life, and plung'd in pleasing Whose vital power, air, earth, and sea supplies; death. And breeds whate'er is born beneath the rolling There while thy curling limbs about him move, skies: Involv'd and fetter'd in the links of love, For every kind, by thy prolific might, When, wishing all, he nothing can deny, Springs, and beholds the regions of the light, Thy charms in that auspicious moment try; Thee, goddess, thee the clouds and tempests fear: With winning eloquence our peace implore, And at thy pleasing presence disappear : And quiet to the weary world restore. [is blest. And Heaven itself with more serene and purer light For when the rising spring adorns the mead, THE BEGINNING OF THE SECOND BOOK OF LUCRETIUS. The moving legions mingled in the war: | But much more sweet thy labouring steps to guide O'er barren mountains, d'er the flowery plain, To virtue's heights, with wisdom well supply'd, The leafy forest, and the liquid main, And all the magazines of learning fortify'd : For wit and power; their last endeavours bend Since then the race of every living thing T'outshine each other, waste their time and health Obeys thy power; since nothing new can spring In search of honour, and pursuit of wealth. Without thy warmth, without thy influence bear, () wretched man! in what a mist of life, Or beautiful, or lovesome can appear; Enclos'd with dangers and with noisy strife, Be thou my aid, my tuneful song inspire, He spends bis little span; and overfeeds And kindle with thy own productive fire; His cramm'd desires, with more than Nature needs! While all thy province, Nature, I survey, For Nature wisely stints our appetite, And sing to Memmius an immortal lay And craves no more than undisturb'd delight: Of Heaven and Earth, and every where thy won Which minds, unmix'd with cares and fears obdrous power display: A soul serene, a body void of pain. (tain; That, wanting all, and setting pain aside, Of burnish'd bowls, and of reflected plate; If well-tund harps, nor the more pleasing sound | These bugbears of the mind, this inward hell, But Nature and right Reason must display to day." FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OP LUCRETIUS. By birth, or power, or Fortune's wealthy store, Tum porrò puer, &c. 'Tis plain, these useless toys of every kind As little can relieve the labouring mind: | Tuus, like a sailor, by a tempest hurld Unless we could suppose the dreadful sight Ashore, the babe is shipwreck'd on the world : Of marshal'd legions moving to the fight | Naked he lies, and ready to expire; Could, with their sound and terrible array, | Helpless of all that human wants require; Expel our fears, and drive the thoughts of death | Expos'd upon un hospitable earth, But, since the supposition vain appears, [away. From the first moment of his hapless birth, Since clinging cares, and trains of inbred fears, Straight with foreboding cries he fills the room; Are not with sounds to be affrighted thence, Too true presages of his future doom. But in the midst of pomp pursue the prince, But ftocks and herds, and every savage beast, Not aw'd by arms, but in the presence bold, By more indulgent Nature are increas'd. Without respect to purple, or to gold; They want no rattles for their froward mood, Why should not we these pageantries despise, Nor nurse to reconcile them to their food, Whose worth but in our want of reason lies? With broken words; nor winter blasts they fear, For life is all in wandering errours led; Nor change their habits with the changing year: And just as children are surpris'd with dread, Nor, for their safety, citadels prepare, And tremble in the dark, so riper years Nor furge the wicked instruments of war: Ev'n in broad day-light are possess'd with fears; Unlabourd Earth her bounteous treasure grants, And shake at shadows fanciful and vain, And Nature's lavish hand supplies their common As those which in the breasts of children reign. wants. TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE, THE THIRD ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE. Inscribed to the earl of Roscommon, on his in tended voyage to Ireland. As thou, to whom the Muse commends, So may th' auspicious queen of love, What form of Death could him affright, Secure those golden early joys, Who anconcerned, with stedfast sight, That youth unsour'd with sorrow bears, Could view the surges mounting steep, Ere withering Time the taste destroys, And monsters rolling in the deep ! With sickness and unwieldly years. Could through the ranks of ruin go, For active sports, for pleasing rest, With storms above, and rocks below! This is the time to be possest; The best is but in season best. Th'appointed hour of promis'd bliss, The pleasing whisper in the dark, Th' eternal fences over-leap, .. The half unwilling willing kiss, And pass at will the boundless deep. The laugh that guides thee to the mark, No toil, no hardship, can restrain When the kind nymph would coyness feign, Ambitious man inur'd to pain; And hides but to be found again; The more confin'd, the more he tries, These, these are joys the gods for youth ordain, THE TWENTY-NINTH ODE OF THE THIRD BOOK OP HORACE. Paraphras'd in Pindaric verse, and inscribed to Comes up to shorten half our date. the Right Hon. Laurence earl of Rochester, Descended of an ancient line, Make haste to meet the generous wine, Whose piercing is for thee delay'd; We reach at Jove's imperial crown, The rosy wreath is ready made; And pull th' unwilling thunder down. And artful hands prepare [hair. The fragrant Syrian oil, that shall perfume thy Those very shades and streams new shades and | In my small pinnace I can sail, streams require, [raging fire. Contemning all the blustering roar; And want a cooling breeze of wind to fan the And, running with a merry gale, With friendly stars my safety seek Thou, what befits the new lord mayor, Within soine little winding creek : And see the storm ashore. THE SECOND EPODE OF HORACE | How happy in his low degree, When mortals search too soon, and fear too late, How rich in humble poverty, is he, Who leads a quiet country life; Enjoy the present smiling hour, Discharg'd of business, void of strife, And put it out of Fortune's power : And from the griping scrivener free! The tide of business, like the running stream, Thus, ere the seeds of vice were sown, Is sometimes high, and sometimes low, Liv'd men in better ages born, Who plow'd with oxen of their own Their small paternal field of corn, Nor trumpets summon him to war, It keeps within the middle bed; Nor drums disturb his morning sleep, Anon it lifts aloft the head, Nor knows he merchants' gainful care, And bears down all before it with impetuous force; Nor fcars the dangers of the deep. The clamours of contentious law, And trunks of trees come rolling down, And court, and state, he wisely shuns, Nor, brib'd with hopes, nor dard with awe, To servile salutations runs; But either to the clasping vine And woods, made thin with winds, their scatter'd Does the supporting poplar wed, honours mourn. Or with his pruning-hook disjoin Unbearing branches from their head, And grafts more happy in their stead. Or, climbing to a hilly steep, He views his herds in vales afar, Or sheers his overburthen'd sheep, Or mead for cooling drink prepares, Of virgin honey in the jars. mine, Or in the now-declining year, Not Heaven itself upon the past has power; When bounteous aatumn rears his head, But what has been, has been, and I have had my | He joys to pull the ripen'd pear, hour. And clustering grapes with purple spread. The fairest of his fruit he serves, Priapus, thy rewards: Sylvanus too his part deserves, Whose care the fences guards. Sometimes beneath an ancient oak, Or on the matted grass, he lies; But with an inclination to be ill, . No god of sleep he need invoke; Promotes, degrades, delights in strife, The stream that o'er the pebbles flies And makes a lottery of life. With gentle slumber crowns his eyes. I can enjoy her while she's kind; The wind that whistles through the sprays But when she dances in the wind, Maintains the concert of the song; And shakes the wings and will not stay, | And hidden birds with native lays I puff the prostitute away: [sign'd: The golden sleep prolong. And hoary frost inverts the year, And seeks the tusky boar to rear, With well-mouth'd hounds and pointed spear! Who never sail in her unfaithful sea, Or spreads his subtle nets from sight If storms arise, and clouds grow black; With twinkling glasses, to betray If the mast split, and threaten wreck? | The larks that in the meshes light, Or makes the fearful hare his prey. Amidst his harmless easy joys No anxious care invades his health, Nor wicked avarice of wealth. I to ease the business of his life, |