Verses and Translations

CHARADES. CHARADES. I. She stood at Greenwich, motionless amid The ever-shifting crowd of passengers. I marked a big tear quivering on the lid Of her deep-lustrous eye, and knew that hers Were days of bitterness.  But, “Oh! what stirs” I said “such storm within so fair a breast?” Even as I spoke, two apoplectic curs Came feebly up: with one wild cry she prest Each singly to her heart, and faltered, “Heaven be blest!” Yet once again I saw her, from the deck Of a black ship that steamed towards Blackwall. She walked upon my first .  Her stately neck Bent o’er an object shrouded in her shawl: I could not see the tears—the glad tears—fall, Yet knew they fell.  And “Ah,” I said, “not puppies, Seen unexpectedly, could lift the pall From hearts who know what tasting misery’s cup is, As Niobe’s, or mine, or Mr. William Guppy’s.” * * * Spake John Grogblossom the coachman to Eliza Spinks the cook: “Mrs. Spinks,” says he, “I’ve foundered: ‘Liza dear, I’m overtook. Druv into a corner reglar, puzzled as a babe unborn; Speak the word, my blessed ‘Liza; speak, and John the coachman’s yourn.” Then Eliza Spinks made answer, blushing, to the coachman John: “John, I’m born and bred a spinster: I’ve begun and I’ll go on. Endless cares and endless worrits, well I knows it, has a wife: Cooking for a genteel family, John, it’s a goluptious life! “I gets £20 per annum—tea and things o’ course not reckoned,— There’s a cat that eats the butter, takes the coals, and breaks my second : There’s soci’ty—James the footman;—(not that I look after him; But he’s aff’ble in his manners, with amazing length of limb;)— “Never durst the missis enter here until I’ve said ‘Come in’: If I saw the master peeping, I’d catch up the rolling-pin. Christmas-boxes, that’s a something; perkisites, that’s something too; And I think, take all together, John, I won’t be on with you.” John the coachman took his hat up, for he thought he’d had enough; Rubbed an elongated forehead with a meditative cuff; Paused before the stable doorway; said, when there, in accents mild, “She’s a fine young ’oman, cook is; but that’s where it is, she’s spiled.” * * * I have read in some not marvellous tale, (Or if I have not, I’ve dreamed) Of one who filled up the convivial cup Till the company round him seemed To be vanished and gone, tho’ the lamps upon Their face as aforetime gleamed: And his head sunk down, and a Lethe crept O’er his powerful brain, and the young man slept. Then they laid him with care in his moonlit bed: But first—having thoughtfully fetched some tar— Adorned him with feathers, aware that the weather’s Uncertainty brings on at nights catarrh. They staid in his room till the sun was high: But still did the feathered one give no sign Of opening a peeper—he might be a sleeper Such as rests on the Northern or Midland line. At last he woke, and with profound Bewilderment he gazed around; Dropped one, then both feet to the ground, But never spake a word: Then to my whole he made his way; Took one long lingering survey; And softly, as he stole away, Remarked, “By Jove, a bird!” II. If you’ve seen a short man swagger tow’rds the footlights at Shoreditch, Sing out “Heave aho! my hearties,” and perpetually hitch Up, by an ingenious movement, trousers innocent of brace, Briskly flourishing a cudgel in his pleased companion’s face; If he preluded with hornpipes each successive thing he did, From a sun-browned cheek extracting still an ostentatious quid; And expectorated freely, and occasionally cursed:— Then have you beheld, depicted by a master’s hand, my first . O my countryman! if ever from thy arm the bolster sped, In thy school-days, with precision at a young companion’s head; If ’twas thine to lodge the marble in the centre of the ring, Or with well-directed pebble make the sitting hen take wing: Then do thou—each fair May morning, when the blue lake is as glass, And the gossamers are twinkling star-like in the beaded grass; When the mountain-bee is sipping fragrance from the bluebell’s lip, And the bathing-woman tells you, Now’s your time to take a dip: When along the misty valleys fieldward winds the lowing herd, And the early worm is being dropped on by the early bird; And Aurora hangs her jewels from the bending rose’s cup, And the myriad voice of Nature calls thee to my second up:— Hie thee to the breezy common, where the melancholy goose Stalks, and the astonished donkey finds that he is really loose; There amid green fern and furze-bush shalt thou soon my whole behold, Rising ‘bull-eyed and majestic’—as Olympus queen of old: Kneel,—at a respectful distance,—as they kneeled to her, and try With judicious hand to put a ball into that ball-less eye: Till a stiffness seize thy elbows, and the general public wake— Then return, and, clear of conscience, walk into thy well-earned steak. III. Ere yet “knowledge for the million” Came out “neatly bound in boards;” When like Care upon a pillion Matrons rode behind their lords: Rarely, save to hear the Rector, Forth did younger ladies roam; Making pies, and brewing nectar From the gooseberry-trees at home. They’d not dreamed of Pan or Vevay; Ne’er should into blossom burst At the ball or at the levée; Never come, in fact, my first : Nor illumine cards by dozens With some labyrinthine text, Nor work smoking-caps for cousins Who were pounding at my next . Now have skirts, and minds, grown ampler; Now not all they seek to do Is create upon a sampler Beasts which Buffon never knew: But their venturous muslins rustle O’er the cragstone and the snow, Or at home their biceps muscle Grows by practising the bow. Worthier they those dames who, fable Says, rode “palfreys” to the war With gigantic Thanes, whose “sable Destriers caracoled” before; Smiled, as—springing from the war-horse As men spring in modern ‘cirques’— They plunged, ponderous as a four-horse Coach, among the vanished Turks:— In the good times when the jester Asked the monarch how he was, And the landlady addrest her Guests as ‘gossip’ or as ‘coz’; When the Templar said, “Gramercy,” Or, “’Twas shrewdly thrust, i’ fegs,” To Sir Halbert or Sir Percy As they knocked him off his legs: And, by way of mild reminders That he needed coin, the Knight Day by day extracted grinders From the howling Israelite: And my whole in merry Sherwood Sent, with preterhuman luck, Missiles—not of steel but firwood— Thro’ the two-mile-distant buck. IV. Evening threw soberer hue Over the blue sky, and the few Poplars that grew just in the view Of the hall of Sir Hugo de Wynkle: “Answer me true,” pleaded Sir Hugh, (Striving to woo no matter who,) “What shall I do, Lady, for you? ’Twill be done, ere your eye may twinkle. Shall I borrow the wand of a Moorish enchanter, And bid a decanter contain the Levant, or The brass from the face of a Mormonite ranter? Shall I go for the mule of the Spanish Infantar— (That r , for the sake of the line, we must grant her,)— And race with the foul fiend, and beat in a canter, Like that first of equestrians Tam o’ Shanter? I talk not mere banter—say not that I can’t, or By this my first —(a Virginia planter Sold it me to kill rats)—I will die instanter.” The Lady bended her ivory neck, and Whispered mournfully, “Go for— my second .” She said, and the red from Sir Hugh’s cheek fled, And “Nay,” did he say, as he stalked away The fiercest of injured men: “Twice have I humbled my haughty soul, And on bended knee I have pressed my whole — But I never will press it again!” V. On pinnacled St. Mary’s Lingers the setting sun; Into the street the blackguards Are skulking one by one: Butcher and Boots and Bargeman Lay pipe and pewter down; And with wild shout come tumbling out To join the Town and Gown. And now the undergraduates Come forth by twos and threes, From the broad tower of Trinity, From the green gate of Caius: The wily bargeman marks them, And swears to do his worst; To turn to impotence their strength, And their beauty to my first . But before Corpus gateway My second first arose, When Barnacles the freshman Was pinned upon the nose: Pinned on the nose by Boxer, Who brought a hobnailed herd From Barnwell, where he kept a van, Being indeed a dogsmeat man, Vendor of terriers, blue or tan, And dealer in my third . ’Twere long to tell how Boxer Was ‘countered’ on the cheek, And knocked into the middle Of the ensuing week: How Barnacles the Freshman Was asked his name and college; And how he did the fatal facts Reluctantly acknowledge. He called upon the Proctor Next day at half-past ten; Men whispered that the Freshman cut A different figure then:— That the brass forsook his forehead, The iron fled his soul, As with blanched lip and visage wan Before the stony-hearted Don He kneeled upon my whole . VI. Sikes , housebreaker, of Houndsditch, Habitually swore; But so surpassingly profane He never was before, As on a night in winter, When—softly as he stole In the dim light from stair to stair, Noiseless as boys who in her lair Seek to surprise a fat old hare— He barked his shinbone, unaware Encountering my whole . As pours the Anio plainward, When rains have swollen the dykes, So, with such noise, poured down my first , Stirred by the shins of Sikes. The Butler Bibulus heard it; And straightway ceased to snore, And sat up, like an egg on end, While men might count a score: Then spake he to Tigerius, A Buttons bold was he: “Buttons, I think there’s thieves about; Just strike a light and tumble out; If you can’t find one, go without, And see what you may see.” But now was all the household, Almost, upon its legs, Each treading carefully about As if they trod on eggs. With robe far-streaming issued Paterfamilias forth; And close behind him,—stout and true And tender as the North,— Came Mrs. P., supporting On her broad arm her fourth. Betsy the nurse, who never From largest beetle ran, And—conscious p’raps of pleasing caps— The housemaids, formed the van: And Bibulus the Butler, His calm brows slightly arched; (No mortal wight had ere that night Seen him with shirt unstarched;) And Bob, the shockhaired knifeboy, Wielding two Sheffield blades, And James Plush of the sinewy legs, The love of lady’s maids: And charwoman and chaplain Stood mingled in a mass, And “Things,” thought he of Houndsditch, “Is come to a pretty pass.” Beyond all things a Baby Is to the schoolgirl dear; Next to herself the nursemaid loves Her dashing grenadier; Only with life the sailor Parts from the British flag; While one hope lingers, the cracksman’s fingers Drop not his hard-earned ‘swag.’ But, as hares do my second Thro’ green Calabria’s copses, As females vanish at the sight Of short-horns and of wopses; So, dropping forks and teaspoons, The pride of Houndsditch fled, Dumbfoundered by the hue and cry He’d raised up overhead. * * * * They gave him—did the Judges— As much as was his due. And, Saxon, should’st thou e’er be led To deem this tale untrue; Then—any night in winter, When the cold north wind blows, And bairns are told to keep out cold By tallowing the nose: When round the fire the elders Are gathered in a bunch, And the girls are doing crochet, And the boys are reading Punch:— Go thou and look in Leech’s book; There haply shalt thou spy A stout man on a staircase stand, With aspect anything but bland, And rub his right shin with his hand, To witness if I lie. PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. Introductory. Art thou beautiful, O my daughter, as the budding rose of April? Are all thy motions music, and is poetry throned in thine eye? Then hearken unto me; and I will make the bud a fair flower, I will plant it upon the bank of Elegance, and water it with the water of Cologne; And in the season it shall “come out,” yea bloom, the pride of the parterre; Ladies shall marvel at its beauty, and a Lord shall pluck it at the last. Of Propriety. Study first Propriety: for she is indeed the Polestar Which shall guide the artless maiden through the mazes of Vanity Fair; Nay, she is the golden chain which holdeth together Society; The lamp by whose light young Psyche shall approach unblamed her Eros. Verily Truth is as Eve, which was ashamed being naked; Wherefore doth Propriety dress her with the fair foliage of artifice: And when she is drest, behold! she knoweth not herself again.— I walked in the Forest; and above me stood the Yew, Stood like a slumbering giant, shrouded in impenetrable shade; Then I pass’d into the citizen’s garden, and marked a tree clipt into shape, (The giant’s locks had been shorn by the Dalilahshears of Decorum;) And I said, “Surely nature is goodly; but how much goodlier is Art!” I heard the wild notes of the lark floating far over the blue sky, And my foolish heart went after him, and lo! I blessed him as he rose; Foolish! for far better is the trained boudoir bulfinch, Which pipeth the semblance of a tune, and mechanically draweth up water: And the reinless steed of the desert, though his neck be clothed with thunder, Must yield to him that danceth and ‘moveth in the circles’ at Astley’s. For verily, O my daughter, the world is a masquerade, And God made thee one thing, that thou mightest make thyself another: A maiden’s heart is as champagne, ever aspiring and struggling upwards, And it needeth that its motions be checked by the silvered cork of Propriety: He that can afford the price, his be the precious treasure, Let him drink deeply of its sweetness, nor grumble if it tasteth of the cork. Of Friendship. Choose judiciously thy friends; for to discard them is undesirable, Yet it is better to drop thy friends, O my daughter, than to drop thy ‘H’s’. Dost thou know a wise woman? yea, wiser than the children of light? Hath she a position? and a title? and are her parties in the Morning Post? If thou dost, cleave unto her, and give up unto her thy body and mind; Think with her ideas, and distribute thy smiles at her bidding: So shalt thou become like unto her; and thy manners shall be “formed,” And thy name shall be a Sesame, at which the doors of the great shall fly open: Thou shalt know every Peer, his arms, and the date of his creation, His pedigree and their intermarriages, and cousins to the sixth remove: Thou shalt kiss the hand of Royalty, and lo! in next morning’s papers, Side by side with rumours of wars, and stories of shipwrecks and sieges, Shall appear thy name, and the minutiæ of thy head-dress and petticoat, For an enraptured public to muse upon over their matutinal muffin. Of Reading. Read not Milton, for he is dry; nor Shakespeare, for he wrote of common life; Nor Scott, for his romances, though fascinating, are yet intelligible: Nor Thackeray, for he is a Hogarth, a photographer who flattereth not: Nor Kingsley, for he shall teach thee that thou shouldest not dream, but do. Read incessantly thy Burke; that Burke who, nobler than he of old, Treateth of the Peer and Peeress, the truly Sublime and Beautiful: Likewise study the “creations” of “the Prince of modern Romance;” Sigh over Leonard the Martyr, and smile on Pelham the puppy: Learn how “love is the dram-drinking of existence;” And how we “invoke, in the Gadara of our still closets, The beautiful ghost of the Ideal, with the simple wand of the pen.” Listen how Maltravers and the orphan “forgot all but love,” And how Devereux’s family chaplain “made and unmade kings:” How Eugene Aram, though a thief, a liar, and a murderer, Yet, being intellectual, was amongst the noblest of mankind. So shalt thou live in a world peopled with heroes and master-spirits; And if thou canst not realise the Ideal, thou shalt at least idealise the Real. TRANSLATIONS. [105] LYCIDAS. Yet once more, O ye laurels! and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer: Who would not sing for Lycidas?  He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear. Begin then, sisters, of the sacred well, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, So may some gentle muse With lucky words favour my destined urn, And, as he passes, turn And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud: For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high lawns appeared Under the opening eyelids of the morn, We drove afield, and both together heard What time the gray fly winds her sultry horn, Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, Toward Heaven’s descent had sloped his westering wheel. Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, Tempered to the oaten flute; Rough satyrs danced, and fauns with cloven heel From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damætas loved to hear our song. But oh, the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o’ergrown, And all their echoes mourn. The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the white-thorn blows; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd’s ear Where were ye, nymphs, when the remorseless deep Closed o’er the head of your loved Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie; Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: Ay me!  I fondly dream! Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the muse herself that Orpheus bore, The muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? Alas! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd’s trade, And strictly meditate the thankless muse? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neæra’s hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days, But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life.  “But not the praise,” Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears; “Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed.” O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune’s plea; He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, What hard mishap had doomed this gentle swain? And questioned every gust of rugged wings, That blows from off each beaked promontory: They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed, The air was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. It was that fatal and perfidious bark Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge, Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. “Ah! who hath reft,” quoth he, “my dearest pledge?” Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake, Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: “How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as for their bellies’ sake Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold! Of other care they little reckoning make, Than how to scramble at the shearer’s feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least That to the faithful herdsman’s art belongs! What reeks it them?  What need they?  They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swollen with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.” Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strow the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. For so to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurled, Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou, perhaps, under the whelming tide Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world; Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old, Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold; Look homeward, angel now, and melt with ruth: And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walked the waves, Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood. Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals gray, He touched the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, And now was dropped into the western bay; At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue, Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. LYCIDAS. En ! iterum laurus, iterum salvete myricæ Pallentes, nullique hederæ quæ ceditis ævo. Has venio baccas, quanquam sapor asper acerbis, Decerptum, quassumque manu folia ipsa proterva, Maturescentem prævortens improbus annum. Causa gravis, pia cansa, subest, et amara deûm lex; Nec jam sponte mea vobis rata tempora turbo. Nam periit Lycidas, periit superante juventa Imberbis Lycidas, quo non præstantior alter. Quis cantare super Lycida neget?  Ipse quoque artem Nôrat Apollineam, versumque imponere versu Non nullo vitreum fas innatet ille feretrum Flente, voluteturque arentes corpus ad auras, Indotatum adeo et lacrymæ vocalis egenum. Quare agite, o sacri fontis queis cura, sorores, Cui sub inaccessi sella Jovis exit origo: Incipite, et sonitu graviore impellite chordas. Lingua procul male prompta loqui, suasorque morarum Sit pudor: alloquiis ut mollior una secundis Pieridum faveat, cui mox ego destiner, urnæ: Et gressus prætergrediens convertat, et “Esto” Dicat “amoena quies atra tibi veste latenti:” Uno namque jugo duo nutribamur: eosdem Pavit uterque greges ad fontem et rivulum et umbram. Tempore nos illo, nemorum convexa priusquam, Aurora reserante oculos, cæpere videri, Urgebamus equos ad pascua: novimus horam Aridus audiri solitus qua clangor asili; Rore recentes greges passi pinguescere noctis Sæpius, albuerat donec quod vespere sidus Hesperios axes prono inclinasset Olympo. At pastorales non cessavere camœnæ, Fistula disparibus quas temperat apta cicutis: Saltabant Satyri informes, nec murmure læto Capripedes potuere diu se avertere Fauni; Damætasque modos nostros longævus amabat. Jamque, relicta tibi, quantum mutata videntur Rura—relicta tibi, cui non spes ulla regressûs! Te sylvæ, teque antra, puer, deserta ferarum, Incultis obducta thymis ac vite sequaci, Decessisse gemunt; gemitusque reverberat Echo. Non salices, non glauca ergo coryleta videbo Molles ad numeros lætum motare cacumen:— Quale rosis scabies; quam formidabile vermis Depulso jam lacte gregi, dum tondet agellos; Sive quod, indutis verna jam veste, pruinæ Floribus, albet ubi primum paliurus in agris: Tale fuit nostris, Lycidam periisse, bubulcis. Qua, Nymphæ, latuistis, ubi crudele profundum Delicias Lycidam vestras sub vortice torsit? Nam neque vos scopulis tum ludebatis in illis Quos veteres, Druidæ, Vates, illustria servant Nomina; nec celsæ setoso in culmine Monæ, Nec, quos Deva locos magicis amplectitur undis. Væ mihi! delusos exercent somnia sensus: Venissetis enim; numquid venisse juvaret? Numquid Pieris ipsa parens interfuit Orphei, Pieris ipsa suæ sobolis, qui carmine rexit Corda virum, quem terra olim, quam magna, dolebat, Tempore quo, dirum auditu strepitante caterva, Ora secundo amni missa, ac foedata cruore, Lesbia præcipitans ad litora detulit Hebrus? Eheu quid prodest noctes instare diesque Pastorum curas spretas humilesque tuendo, Nilque relaturam meditari rite Camoenam? Nonne fuit satius lusus agitare sub umbra, (Ut mos est aliis,) Amaryllida sive Neæram Sectanti, ac tortis digitum impediisse capillis? Scilcet ingenuum cor Fama, novissimus error Illa animi majoris, uti calcaribus urget Spernere delicias ac dedi rebus agendis. Quanquam—exoptatam jam spes attingere dotem; Jam nec opinata remur splendescere flamma:— Cæca sed invisa cum forfice venit Erinnys, Quæ resecet tenui hærentem subtemine vitam. “At Famam non illa,” refert, tangitque trementes Phœbus Apollo aures.  “Fama haud, vulgaris ad instar Floris, amat terrestre solum, fictosque nitores Queis inhiat populus, nec cum Rumore patescit. Vivere dant illi, dant increbrescere late Puri oculi ac vox summa Jovis, cui sola Potestas. Fecerit ille semel de facto quoque virorum Arbitrium: tantum famæ manet æthera nactis.” Fons Arethusa! sacro placidus qui laberis alveo, Frontem vocali prætextus arundine, Minci! Sensi equidem gravius carmen.  Nunc cetera pastor Exsequor.  Adstat enim missus pro rege marino, Seque rogâsse refert fluctus, ventosque rapaces, Quæ sors dura nimis tenerum rapuisset agrestem. Compellasse refert alarum quicquid ab omni Spirat, acerba sonans, scopulo, qui cuspidis instar Prominet in pelagus; fama haud pervenerat illuc. Hæc ultro pater Hippotades responsa ferebat: “Nulli sunt nostro palati carcere venti. Straverat æquor aquas, et sub Jove compta sereno Lusum exercebat Panope nymphæque sorores. Quam Furiæ struxere per interlunia, leto Fetam ac fraude ratem,—malos velarat Erinnys,— Credas in mala tanta caput mersisse sacratum.” Proximus huic tardum senior se Camus agebat; Cui setosa chlamys, cui pileus ulva: figuris Idem intertextus dubiis erat, utque cruentos Quos perhibent flores, inscriptus margine luctum. “Nam quis,” ait, “prædulce meum me pignus ademit?” Post hos, qui Galilæa regit per stagna carinas, Post hos venit iturus: habet manus utraque clavim, (Queis aperit clauditque) auro ferrove gravatam. Mitra tegit crines; quassis quibus, acriter infit: “Scilicet optassem pro te dare corpora leto Sat multa, o juvenis: quot serpunt ventribus acti, Vi quot iter faciunt spretis in ovilia muris. Hic labor, hoc opus est, pecus ut tondente magistro Præripiant epulas, trudatur dignior hospes. Capti oculis, non ore! pedum tractare nec ipsi Norunt; quotve bonis sunt upilionibus artes. Sed quid enim refert, quove eat opus, omnia nactis? Fert ubi mens, tenue ac deductum carmen avenam Radit stridentem stipulis.  Pastore negato Suspicit ægra pecus: vento gravis ac lue tracta Tabescit; mox foeda capit contagia vulgus. Quid dicam, stabulis ut clandestinus oberrans Expleat ingluviem tristis lupus, indice nullo? Illa tamen bimanus custodit machina portam, Stricta, paratque malis plagam non amplius unam.” En, Alphee, redi!  Quibus ima cohorruit unda Voces præteriere: redux quoque Sicelis omnes Musa voca valles; huc pendentes hyacinthos Fac jaciant, teneros huc flores mille colorum. O nemorum depressa, sonant ubi crebra susurri Umbrarum, et salientis aquæ, Zephyrique protervi; Queisque virens gremium penetrare Canicula parcit: Picturata modis jacite huc mihi lumina miris, Mellitos imbres queis per viridantia rura Mos haurire, novo quo tellus vere rubescat. Huc ranunculus, ipse arbos, pallorque ligustri, Quæque relicta perit, vixdum matura feratur Pnimula: quique ebeno distinctus, cætera flavet Flos, et qui specie nomen detrectat eburna. Ardenti violæ rosa proxima fundat odores; Serpyllumque placens, et acerbo flexile vultu Verbascum, ac tristem si quid sibi legit amictum. Quicquid habes pulcri fundas, amarante: coronent Narcissi lacrymis calices, sternantque feretrum Tectus ubi lauro Lycidas jacet: adsit ut oti Saltem aliquid, ficta ludantur imagine mentes. Me miserum!  Tua nam litus, pelagusque sonorum Ossa ferunt, queiscunque procul jacteris in oris; Sive procellosas ultra Symplegadas ingens Jam subter mare visis, alit quæ monstra profundum; Sive (negavit enim precibus te Jupiter udis) Cum sene Bellero, veterum qui fabula, dormis, Qua custoditi montis prægrandis imago Namancum atque arces longe prospectat Iberas. Verte retro te, verte deum, mollire precando: Et vos infaustum juvenem delphines agatis. Ponite jam lacrymas, sat enim flevistis, agrestes. Non periit Lycidas, vestri moeroris origo, Marmorei quanquam fluctus hausere cadentem. Sic et in æquoreum se condere sæpe cubile Luciferum videas; nec longum tempus, et effert Demissum caput, igne novo vestitus; et, aurum Ceu rutilans, in fronte poli splendescit Eoi. Sic obiit Lycidas, sic assurrexit in altum; Illo, quem peditem mare sustulit, usus amico. Nunc campos alios, alia errans stagna secundum, Rorantesque lavans integro nectare crines, Audit inauditos nobis cantari Hymenæos, Fortunatorum sedes ubi mitis amorem Lætitiamque affert.  Hic illum, quotquot Olympum Prædulces habitant turbæ, venerabilis ordo, Circumstant: aliæque canunt, interque canendum Majestate sua veniunt abeuntque catervæ, Omnes ex oculis lacrymas arcere paratæ. Ergo non Lycidam jam lamentantur agrestes. Divus eris ripæ, puer, hoc ex tempore nobis, Grande, nec immerito, veniens in munus; opemque Poscent usque tuam, dubiis quot in æstubus errant. Hæc incultus aquis puer ilicibusque canebat; Processit dum mane silens talaribus albis. Multa manu teneris discrimina tentat avenis, Dorica non studio modulatus carmina segni: Et jam sol abiens colles extenderat omnes, Jamque sub Hesperium se præcipitaverat alveum. Surrexit tandem, glaucumque retraxit amictum; Cras lucos, reor, ille novos, nova pascua quæret. IN MEMORIAM. CVI. The time admits not flowers or leaves To deck the banquet.  Fiercely flies The blast of North and East, and ice Makes daggers at the sharpen’d eaves, And bristles all the brakes and thorns To yon hard crescent, as she hangs Above the wood which grides and clangs Its leafless ribs and iron horns Together, in the drifts that pass, To darken on the rolling brine That breaks the coast.  But fetch the wine, Arrange the board and brim the glass; Bring in great logs and let them lie, To make a solid core of heat; Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat Of all things ev’n as he were by: We keep the day with festal cheer, With books and music.  Surely we Will drink to him whate’er he be, And sing the songs he loved to hear. IN MEMORIAM. Non hora myrto, non violis sinit Nitere mensas.  Trux Aquilo foras Bacchatur, ac passim pruina Tigna sagittifera coruscant; Horretque saltus spinifer, algidæ Sub falce lunæ, dum nemori imminet, Quod stridet illiditque costis Cornua, jam vacuis honorum, Ferrata; nimbis prætereuntibus, Ut incubent tandem implacido sali Qui curvat oras.  Tu Falernum Prome, dapes strue, dic coronent Crateras: ignis cor solidum, graves Repone truncos.  Jamque doloribus Loquare securus fugatis Quæ socio loquereris illo; Hunc dedicamus lætitiæ diem Lyræque musisque.  Illius, illius Da, quicquid audit: nec silebunt Qui numeri placuere vivo. LAURA MATILDA’S DIRGE. From ‘ Rejected Addresses .’ Balmy Zephyrs, lightly flitting, Shade me with your azure wing; On Parnassus’ summit sitting, Aid me, Clio, while I sing. Softly slept the dome of Drury O’er the empyreal crest, When Alecto’s sister-fury Softly slumb’ring sunk to rest. Lo! from Lemnos limping lamely, Lags the lowly Lord of Fire, Cytherea yielding tamely To the Cyclops dark and dire. Clouds of amber, dreams of gladness, Dulcet joys and sports of youth, Soon must yield to haughty sadness; Mercy holds the veil to Truth. See Erostratas the second Fires again Diana’s fane; By the Fates from Orcus beckon’d, Clouds envelop Drury Lane. Where is Cupid’s crimson motion? Billowy ecstasy of woe, Bear me straight, meandering ocean, Where the stagnant torrents flow. Blood in every vein is gushing, Vixen vengeance lulls my heart; See, the Gorgon gang is rushing! Never, never let us part. NÆNIA. O quot odoriferi voitatis in aëre venti, Cæruleum tegmen vestra sit ala mihi: Tuque sedens Parnassus ubi caput erigit ingens, Dextra veni, Clio: teque docente canam. Jam suaves somnos Tholus affectare Theatri Cœperat, igniflui trans laqueare poli: Alectûs consanguineam quo tempore Erinnyn, Suave soporatam, coepit adire quies. Lustra sed ecce labans claudo pede Lemnia linquit Luridus (at lente lugubriterque) Deus: Amisit veteres, amisit inultus, amores; Teter habet Venerem terribilisque Cyclops. Electri nebulas, potioraque somnia vero; Quotque placent pueris gaudia, quotque joci; Omnia tristiæ fas concessisse superbæ: Admissum Pietas scitque premitque nefas. Respice!  Nonne vides ut Erostratus alter ad ædem Rursus agat flammas, spreta Diana, tuam? Mox, Acheronteis quas Parca eduxit ab antris, Druriacam nubes corripuere domum. O ubi purpurei motus pueri alitis? o qui Me mihi turbineis surripis, angor, aquis! Duc, labyrintheum, duc me, mare, tramite recto Quo rapidi fontes, pigra caterva, ruunt! Jamque—soporat enim pectus Vindicta Virago; Omnibus a venis sanguinis unda salit; Gorgoneique greges præceps (adverte!) feruntur— Sim, precor, o! semper sim tibi junctus ego. “LEAVES HAVE THEIR TIME TO FALL.” Felicia Hemans . Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind’s breath, And stars to set: but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings at the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer, But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth! The banquet has its hour, The feverish hour of mirth and song and wine: There comes a day for grief’s overwhelming shower, A time for softer tears: but all are thine. Youth and the opening rose May look like things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee!—but thou art not of those That wait the ripen’d bloom to seize their prey! “FRONDES EST UBI DECIDANT.” Frondes est ubi decidant, Marcescantque rosæ flatu Aquilonio: Horis astra cadunt suis; Sed, Mors, cuncta tibi tempera vindicas. Curis nata virûm dies; Vesper colloquiis dulcibus ad focum; Somnis nox magis, et preci: Sed nil, Terrigenum maxima, non tibi. Festis hora epulis datur, (Fervens hora jocis, carminibus, mero;) Fusis altera lacrymis Aut fletu tacito: quæque tamen tua. Virgo, seu rosa pullulans, Tantum quippe nitent ut nequeant mori? Rident te?  Neque enim soles Prædæ parcere, dum flos adoleverit. “LET US TURN HITHERWARD OUR BARK.” R. C. Trench . “ Let us turn hitherward our bark,” they cried, “And, ’mid the blisses of this happy isle, Past toil forgetting and to come, abide In joyfulness awhile. And then, refreshed, our tasks resume again, If other tasks we yet are bound unto, Combing the hoary tresses of the main With sharp swift keel anew.” O heroes, that had once a nobler aim, O heroes, sprung from many a godlike line, What will ye do, unmindful of your fame, And of your race divine? But they, by these prevailing voices now Lured, evermore draw nearer to the land, Nor saw the wrecks of many a goodly prow, That strewed that fatal strand; Or seeing, feared not—warning taking none From the plain doom of all who went before, Whose bones lay bleaching in the wind and sun, And whitened all the shore. “QUIN HUC, FREMEBANT.” “ Quin huc,” fremebant, “dirigimus ratem: Hic, dote læti divitis insulæ, Paullisper hæremus, futuri Nec memores operis, nec acti: “Curas refecti cras iterabimus, Si qua supersunt emeritis novæ Pexisse pernices acuta Canitiem pelagi carina.” O rebus olim nobilioribus Pares: origo Dî quibus ac Deæ Heroës! oblitine famiæ Hæc struitis, generisque summi? Atqui propinquant jam magis ac magis, Ducti magistra voce, solum: neque Videre prorarum nefandas Fragmina nobilium per oras; Vidisse seu non poenitet—ominis Incuriosos tot præëuntium, Quorum ossa sol siccantque venti, Candet adhuc quibus omnis ora. CARMEN SÆCULARE. MDCCCLIII. “Quicquid agunt homines, nostri est farrago libelli.” Acris hyems jam venit: hyems genus omne perosa Foemineum, et senibus glacies non æqua rotundis: Apparent rari stantes in tramite glauco; Radit iter, cogitque nives, sua tela, juventus. Trux matrona ruit, multos dominata per annos, Digna indigna minans, glomeratque volumina crurum; Illa parte senex, amisso forte galero, Per plateas bacchatur; eum chorus omnis agrestum Ridet anhelantem frustra, et jam jamque tenentem Quod petit; illud agunt venti prensumque resorbent. Post, ubi compositus tandem votique potitus Sedit humi; flet crura tuens nive candida lenta, Et vestem laceram, et venturas conjugis iras: Itque domum tendens duplices ad sidera palmas, Corda miser, desiderio perfixa galeri. At juvenis (sed cruda viro viridisque juventus) Quærit bacciferas, tunica pendente, [145a] tabernas: Pervigil ecce Baco furva depromit ab arca Splendidius quiddam solito, plenumque saporem Laudat, et antiqua jurat de stripe Jamaicæ. O fumose puer, nimium ne crede Baconi: Manillas vocat; hoc prætexit nomine caules. Te vero, cui forte dedit maturior ætas Scire potestates herbarum, te quoque quanti Circumstent casus, paucis (adverte) docebo. Præcipue, seu raptat amor te simplicis herbæ, [145b] Seu potius tenui Musam meditaris avena, Procuratorem fugito, nam ferreus idem est. Vita semiboves catulos, redimicula vita Candida: de coelo descendit σῶζε σεαυτόν. Nube vaporis item conspergere præter euntes Jura vetant, notumque furens quid femina possit: Odit enim dulces succos anus, odit odorem; Odit Lethæi diffusa volumina fumi. Mille modis reliqui fugiuntque feruntque laborem. Hic vir ad Eleos, pedibus talaria gestans, Fervidus it latices, nec quidquam acquirit eundo: [146a] Ille petit virides (sed non e gramine) mensas, Pollicitus meliora patri, tormentaque [146b] flexus Per labyrintheos plus quam mortalia tentat, Acre tuens, loculisque pilas immittit et aufert. Sunt alii, quos frigus aquæ, tenuisque phaselus Captat, et æquali surgentes ordine remi. His edura cutis, nec ligno rasile tergum; Par saxi sinus: esca boves cum robore Bassi. Tollunt in numerum fera brachia, vique feruntur Per fluctus: sonuere viæ clamore secundo: Et piceâ de puppe fremens immane bubulcus Invocat exitium cunctis, et verbera rapto Stipite defessis onerat graviora caballis. Nil humoris egent alii.  Labor arva vagari, Flectere ludus equos, et amantem devia [147a] currum. Nosco purpureas vestes, clangentia nosco Signa tubæ, et caudas inter virgulta caninas. Stat venator equus, tactoque ferocior armo Surgit in arrectum, vix auditurus habenam; Et jam prata fuga superat, jam flumina saltu. Aspicias alios ab iniqua sepe rotari In caput, ut scrobibus quæ sint fastigia quærant; Eque rubis aut amne pigro trahere humida crura, Et fœdam faciem, defloccatumque galerum. Sanctius his animal, cui quadravisse rotundum [148a] Musæ suadet amor, Camique ardentis imago, Inspicat calamos contracta fronte malignos, Perque Mathematicum pelagus, loca turbida, anhelat. Circum dirus “Hymers,” nec pondus inutile, “Lignum,” “Salmoque,” et pueris tu detestate, “Colenso,” Horribiles visu formæ; livente notatæ Ungue omnes, omnes insignes aure canina. [148b] Fervet opus; tacitum pertentant gaudia pectus Tutorum; “pulchrumque mori,” dixere, “legendo.” Nec vero juvenes facere omnes omnia possunt. Atque unum memini ipse, deus qui dictus amicis, Et multum referens de rixatore [148c] secundo, Nocte terens ulnas ac scrinia, solus in alto Degebat tripode; arcta viro vilisque supellex; Et sic torva tuens, pedibus per mutua nexis, Sedit, lacte mero mentem mulcente tenellam. Et fors ad summos tandem venisset honores; Sed rapidi juvenes, queis gratior usus equorum, Subveniunt, siccoque vetant inolescere libro. Improbus hos Lector pueros, mentumque virili Lævius, et duræ gravat inclementia Mortis: [149a] Agmen iners; queis mos alienâ vivere quadrâ, [149b] Et lituo vexare viros, calcare caballos. Tales mane novo sæpe admiramur euntes Torquibus in rigidis et pelle Libystidis ursæ; Admiramur opus [149c] tunicæ, vestemque [149d] sororem Iridis, et crurum non enarrabile tegmen. Hos inter comites implebat pocula sorbis Infelix puer, et sese reereabat ad ignem, “Evœ, [150a] Basse ,” fremens: dum velox præterit ætas; Venit summa dies; et Junior Optimus exit. Saucius at juvenis nota intra tecta refugit, Horrendum ridens, lucemque miserrimus odit: Informem famulus laqueum pendentiaque ossa Mane videt, refugitque feri meminisse magistri. Di nobis meliora!  Modum re servat in omni Qui sapit: haud ilium semper recubare sub umbra, Haud semper madidis juvat impallescere chartis. Nos numerus sumus, et libros consumere nati; Sed requies sit rebus; amant alterna Camenæ. Nocte dieque legas, cum tertius advenit annus: Tum libros cape; claude fores, et prandia defer. Quartus venit: ini, [150b] rebus jam rite paratis, Exultans, et coge gradum conferre magistros. His animadversis, fugies immane Barathrum. His, operose puer, si qua fata aspera rumpas, Tu rixator eris.  Saltem non crebra revises Ad stabulum, [151a] et tota moerens carpere juventa; Classe nec amisso nil profectura dolentem Tradet ludibriis te plena leporis Hirudo . [151b] TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO A SHIP. Od . i. 14. Yet on fresh billows seaward wilt thou ride, O ship?  What dost thou?  Seek a hav’n, and there Rest thee: for lo! thy side Is oarless all and bare, And the swift south-west wind hath maimed thy mast, And thy yards creak, and, every cable lost, Yield must thy keel at last On pitiless sea-waves tossed Too rudely.  Goodly canvas is not thine, Nor gods, to hear thee now, when need is sorest:— Though thou—a Pontic pine, Child of a stately forest,— Boastest high name and empty pedigree, Pale seamen little trust the gaudy sail: Stay, unless doomed to be The plaything of the gale. Flee—what of late sore burden was to me, Now a sad memory and a bitter pain,— Those shining Cyclads flee That stud the far-off main. TO VIRGIL. Od . i. 24. Unshamed , unchecked, for one so dear We sorrow.  Lead the mournful choir, Melpomene, to whom thy sire Gave harp, and song-notes liquid-clear! Sleeps He the sleep that knows no morn? Oh Honour, oh twin-born with Right, Pure Faith, and Truth that loves the light, When shall again his like be born? Many a kind heart for Him makes moan; Thine, Virgil, first.  But ah! in vain Thy love bids heaven restore again That which it took not as a loan: Were sweeter lute than Orpheus given To thee, did trees thy voice obey; The blood revisits not the clay Which He, with lifted wand, hath driven Into his dark assemblage, who Unlocks not fate to mortal’s prayer. Hard lot!  Yet light their griefs who BEAR The ills which they may not undo. TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA. Od . iii. 13. Bandusia , stainless mirror of the sky! Thine is the flower-crown’d bowl, for thee shall die, When dawns again yon sun, the kid; Whose budding horns, half-seen, half-hid, Challenge to dalliance or to strife—in vain! Soon must the hope of the wild herd be slain, And those cold springs of thine With blood incarnadine. Fierce glows the Dog-star, but his fiery beam Toucheth not thee: still grateful thy cool stream To labour-wearied ox, Or wanderer from the flocks: And henceforth thou shalt be a royal fountain: My harp shall tell how from yon cavernous mountain, Topt by the brown oak-tree, Thou breakest babblingly. TO IBYCUS’S WIFE. Od . ii. 15. Spouse of penniless Ibycus, Thus late, bring to a close all thy delinquencies, All thy studious infamy:— Nearing swiftly the grave—(that not an early one)— Cease girls’ sport to participate, Blurring stars which were else cloudlessly brilliant. What suits her who is beautiful Suits not equally thee: rightly devastates Thy fair daughter the homes of men, Wild as Thyad, who wakes stirred by the kettle-drums. Nothus’ beauty constraining her, Like some kid at his play, holds she her revelry: Thy years stately Luceria’s Wools more fitly become—not din of harpsichords, Not pink-petallèd roseblossoms, Not casks drained by an old lip to the sediment. SORACTE. Od . i. 9. One dazzling mass of solid snow Soracte stands; the bent woods fret Beneath their load; and, sharpest-set With frost, the streams have ceased to flow. Pile on great faggots and break up The ice: let influence more benign Enter with four-years-treasured wine, Fetched in the ponderous Sabine cup: Leave to the Gods all else.  When they Have once bid rest the winds that war Over the passionate seas, no more Grey ash and cypress rock and sway. Ask not what future suns shall bring, Count to-day gain, whate’er it chance To be: nor, young man, scorn the dance, Nor deem sweet Love an idle thing, Ere Time thy April youth hath changed To sourness.  Park and public walk Attract thee now, and whispered talk At twilight meetings pre-arranged; Hear now the pretty laugh that tells In what dim corner lurks thy love; And snatch a bracelet or a glove From wrist or hand that scarce rebels. TO LEUCONÖE. Od . i. 11. Seek not, for thou shalt not find it, what my end, what thine shall be; Ask not of Chaldæa’s science what God wills, Leuconöe: Better far, what comes, to bear it.  Haply many a wintry blast Waits thee still; and this, it may be, Jove ordains to be thy last, Which flings now the flagging sea-wave on the obstinate sandstone-reef. Be thou wise: fill up the wine-cup; shortening, since the time is brief, Hopes that reach into the future.  While I speak, hath stol’n away Jealous Time.  Mistrust To-morrow, catch the blossom of To-day. JUNO’S SPEECH. Od . iii. 3. The just man’s single-purposed mind Not furious mobs that prompt to ill May move, nor kings’ frowns shake his will Which is as rock; not warrior-winds That keep the seas in wild unrest; Nor bolt by Jove’s own finger hurled: The fragments of a shivered world Would crash round him still self-possest. Jove’s wandering son reached, thus endowed, The fiery bastions of the skies; Thus Pollux; with them Cæsar lies Beside his nectar, radiant-browed. For this rewarded, tiger-drawn Rode Bacchus, reining necks before Untamed; for this War’s horses bore Quirinus up from Acheron, When in heav’n’s conclave Juno said, Thrice welcomed: “Troy is in the dust; Troy, by a judge accursed, unjust, And that strange woman prostrated. “The day Laomedon ignored His god-pledged word, resigned to me And Pallas ever-pure, was she, Her people, and their traitor lord. “No more the Greek girl’s guilty guest Sits splendour-girt: Priam’s perjured sons Find not against the mighty ones Of Greece a shield in Hector’s breast: “And, long drawn out by private jars, The war sleeps.  Lo! my wrath is o’er: And him the Trojan vestal bore (Sprung of that hated line) to Mars, “To Mars restore I.  His be rest In halls of light: by him be drained The nectar-bowl, his place obtained In the calm companies of the blest. “While betwixt Rome and Ilion raves A length of ocean, where they will Rise empires for the exiles still: While Paris’s and Priam’s graves “Are hoof-trod, and the she-wolf breeds Securely there, unharmed shall stand Rome’s lustrous Capitol, her hand Impose proud laws on trampled Medes. “Wide-feared, to far-off climes be borne Her story; where the central main Europe and Libya parts in twain, Where full Nile laves a land of corn: “The buried secret of the mine, (Best left there) resolute to spurn, And not to man’s base uses turn With hand that spares not things divine. “Earth’s utmost end, where’er it be, May her hosts reach; careering proud O’er lands where watery rain and cloud, Or where wild suns hold revelry. “But, to the soldier-sons of Rome, Tied by this law, such fates are willed; That they seek never to rebuild, Too fond, too bold, their grandsires’ home. “With darkest omens, deadliest strife, Shall Troy, raised up again, repeat Her history; I the victor-fleet Shall lead, Jove’s sister and his wife. “Thrice let Apollo rear the wall Of brass; and thrice my Greeks shall hew The fabric down; thrice matrons rue In chains their sons’, their husbands’ fall.” Ill my light lyre such notes beseem. Stay, Muse; nor, wayward still, rehearse God-utterances in puny verse That may but mar a mighty theme.

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