תמונות בעמוד

There jest and feast, make him thine host,

If a fit liver thou dost seek to toast; For he's both noble, lovely, young,

And for the troubled client files his tongue : Child of a hundred arts, and far

Will he display the ensigns of thy war. And when he smiling finds his grace

With thee 'bove all his rivals' gifts take place, He'll thee a marble statue make

Beneath a sweet-wood roof near Alba lake, There shall thy dainty nostril take

In many a gum, and for thy soft ears' sake Shall verse be set to harp and lute,

And Phrygian hau'boy, not without the flute. There twice a day in sacred lays,

The youths and tender maids shall sing thy praise : And in the Salian manner meet

Thrice 'bout thy altar with their ivory feet. Me now, nor wench, nor wanton boy,

Delights, nor credulous hope of mutual joy; Nor care I now healths to propound,

Or with fresh flowers to girt my temple round. But why, oh why, my Ligurine,

Flow my thin tears down these pale cheeks of mine? Or why my well-grac'd words among

With an uncomely silence fails my tongue ? Hard-hearted, I dream every night

I hold thee fast! but fled hence, with the light, Whether in Mars his field thou be,

Or Tyber's winding streams, I follow thee.


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ONEC gratus eram tibi, *
Nec quisquam potior brachia candida

Cervici juvenis dabat ;

Persarum vigui rege beatior. Lyd. Donec non alia magis

Arsisti, neque erat Lydia post Chloën,

Multi Lydia nominis

Romana vigui clarior Ilia.
Hor. Me nunc Thressa Chloë regit,

Dulces docta modos, et cithara sciens :

qua non metuam mori,
Si parcent anime fata superstiti,
Lyd. Me torret face mutua

Thurini Calaïs filius Ornithi :

Pro quo his patiar mori,

Si parcent puero fata superstiti. Hor. Quid si prisca redit Venus,

Diductosque jugo cogit aheneo ?

Si flava excutitur Chloe

Rejecteque patet janua Lydia ? Lyd. Quamquam sidere pulchrior

Ille est, tu levior cortice, et improbo

Iracundior Adria,

Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens. Donec gratus, &c.] This little piece has always been a favourite. Granger, whose knowledge of our old writers did not extend much beyond their portraits, tells us that the first English version of this Ode was made by Herrick. The Hesperides were

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EHILST, Lydia, I was lov'd of thee,
And 'bout thy ivory neck no youth did fing

His arms more acceptably free,

I thought me richer than the Persian king. Lyd. Whilst Horace lov'd no mistress more,

Nor after Chloe did his Lydia sound;

In name, I went all names before,

The Roman Ilia was not more renown'd. Hor.

'Tis true, I'm Thracian Chloe's, I, Who sings so sweet, and with such cunning plays,

As, for her, I'ld not fear to die,

So fate would give her life, and longer days. Lyd. And I am mutually on fire

With gentle Calais, Thurine Ornith's son,

For whom I doubly would expire,

So fate would let the boy a long thread run. Hor. But


old love return should make, And us disjoin'd force to her brazen yoke;

That I bright Chloe off should shake,

And to left Lydia, now the gate stood ope? Lyd. Though he be fairer than a star ;

Thou lighter than the bark of any tree,

And than rough Adria angrier far;

Yet would I wish to love, live, die with thee. not published till 1648, and to say nothing of the translation before us, a dozen, perhaps, had appeared before that period. I have one by Francis Davison as early as 1608, but neither is this the first : -the matter however, is of no great moment.



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OEDA est in coitu, et brevis voluptas,
Et tædet Veneris statim peracta.

Non ergo ut pecudes libidinosa,
Cæci protinùs irruamus illuc :
Nam languescit amor

peritque flamma,
Sed sic, sic, sine fine feriati,
Et tecum jaceamus osculantes :
Hic nullus labor est, ruborque nullus ;
Hoc juvit, juvat, et diu juvabit :
Hoc non deficit, incipitque semper.

Like FC but Let


EPIGRAMMA MARTIALIS, Lib. viii. ep. 77.

SIBER, amicorum dulcissima cura tuorum,

Liber in æterna vivere digne rosa ;
Si sapis, Assyrio semper tibi crinis amomo

Splendeat, et cingant florea serta caput :
Candida nigrescant vetulo crystalla Falerno,

Et caleat blando mollis amore thorus. Qui sic, vel medio finitus vixit in ævo,

Longior huic facta est, quam data vita fuit.

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OING, a filthy pleasure is, and short ;

And done, we straight repent us of the sport :

Let us not then rush blindly on unto it,
Like lustful beasts that only know to do it :
For lust will languish, and that heat decay.
But thus, thus, keeping endless holiday,
Let us together closely lie and kiss,
There is no labour, nor no shame in this ;
This hath pleas’d, doth please, and long will please;


Can this decay, but is beginning ever.

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FIBER, of all thy friends, thou sweetest care,”

Thou worthy in eternal flower to fare,

If thou be’st wise, with Syrian oil let shine
Thy locks, and rosy garlands crown thy head;
Dark thy clear glass with old Falernian wine,

And heat with softest love thy softer bed.
He, that but living half his days, dies such,
Makes his life longer than 'twas given him, much.

Liber, of all thy friends, &c.] This must be exempted from what in the Life of Dryden, are called the “ jaw-breaking translations of Ben Jonson.” It is, in fact, the most beautiful of all the versions of this elegant poem. Though it numbers only line for line with the original, it clearly and fully expresses the whole of its meaning, and is besides, spirited and graceful in a high degree. It unfortunately escaped the researches of Hurd.


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