There jest and feast, make him thine host, And for the troubled client files his tongue : 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. Lyd. Hor. Lyd. Hor. Lyd. ODE IX. LIB. III. AD LYDIAM. DIALOGUS HORATII ET Lydiæ. Horatii. ONEC gratus eram tibi,* Nec quisquam potior brachia candida Donec non alia magis Arsisti, neque erat Lydia post Chloën, Multi Lydia nominis Romana vigui clarior Ilia. Me nunc Thressa Chloë regit, Me torret face mutua Quid si prisca redit Venus, Quamquam sidere pulchrior 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 Lyd. ODE IX. BOOK III. TO LYDIA. Hor. Lyd. Hor. Lyd. DIALOGUE OF HORACE AND LYDIA. Horace. HILST, Lydia, I was lov'd of thee, I thought me richer than the Persian king. Whilst Horace lov'd no mistress more, In name, I went all names before, 'Tis true, I'm Thracian Chloe's, I, So fate would give her life, and longer days. And I am mutually on fire With gentle Calais, Thurine Ornith's son, But say old love return should make, 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. FRAGMENTUM PETRON. ARBITR. JOEDA est in coitu, et brevis voluptas, Et tecum jaceamus osculantes: EPIGRAMMA MARTIALIS, Lib. viii. ep. 77. IBER, 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 avo, Longior huic facta est, quam data vita fuit. FRAGMENT OF PETRON. ARBITER TRANSLATED. OING, a filthy pleasure is, and short; There is no labour, nor no shame in this; never Can this decay, but is beginning ever. EPIGRAM OF MARTIAL, viii. 77. TRANSLATED. IBER, of all thy friends, thou sweetest care," 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. 5 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. |