When, in a dream, her mother (as she thought)
Seeing, she cries, vext, yet with fear distraught:
"From me disconsolate last night you fled,
And left me sleeping in my father's bed.
What hill, what mountain, have I left untrac'd?
To Venus' pleasing ties mak'st thou such baste?"
To whom fair Tyndaris this answer made:
Daughter! tho' griev'd, me yet forbear t'upbraid:
That treacherous stranger, who the other day
Came hither, carried me by force away."
Thus she at which out straight Hermione flies; But finding not her mother, louder cries:
"Wing'd issue of th' inhabitants of air, Ye birds! to Menelaus straight declare, One, late arriving at the Spartan port, Hath robb'd him of the glory of his court." Thus to regardless winds did she complain, Seeking her absent mother, but in vain. 'Meantime, thro' Thracian towns and Helle's strait, Paris arriv'd safe with his beauteous freight, When from the castle, viewing on the shore A new guest land, her hair Cassandra tore. But Troy with open gates her welcome shows To the returning author of her woes.
HORAT. CARM. L. 4. OD. 10. PARAPHRASTICE.
CRUEL, and fair! when this soft down
(Thy youth's bloom) shall to bristles grow; And these fair curls thy shoulders crown,
Shall shed, or cover'd be with snow:
When those bright roses that adorn
Thy cheeks shall wither quite away, And in thy glass (now made time's scorn) Thou shalt thy changed face survey: Then, ah, then! (sighing) thou'lt deplore Thy ill-spent youth; and wish, in vain, "Why had I not those thoughts before? Or come not my first looks again?"
THE PENITENT MURDERER. THEOCRIT. IDVL. 31.
WHEN Venus saw Adonis dead,
His tresses soil'd, his colour fled,
She straight her winged Loves commands
To bring the cruel boar in bands.
They, the woods nimbly ranging, found
The pensive beast, and brought him bound:
This drags along the captiv'd foc,
That pricks him forward with his bow.
With trembling steps the boar drew nigh,
For he fear'd angry Venus' eye.
T'whom thus she spake : "O thou the worst
Of all wild beasts, and most accurst!
Was't thou with wounding tusks didst tear
This whiter thigh? thou kill my dear?"
To whom the bear repli'd: "I swear
By thyself, Venus, by thy dear,
By these my bonds, these hunters, I
Meant to thy love no injury:
But gazing on him, as some fair
Statue, unapt the flames to bear
Desire had kindled in my breast,
To ki-s his naked thigh I prest;
And kissing, kill'd him: wherefore these,
These murd'ring tusks, doom as you please.
(For why, alas! teeth do I bear
That useless and enamour'd are ?)
Or if a punishment too small
You yet think that, take lips and all."
But Venus, pitying the beast,
Commands that straight he be releas'd;
Who to the woods ne'er went again,
But liv'd as one of Venus' train:
And coming one day near the fire,
Quench'd there the flames of his desire.
THE SHEPHERD, THEOCRIT. IDYL. 21.
FAIR Eunica I sweetly would have kist,
But was with scorn and this reproach dismist:
"Hence! what? a shepherd, and yet hope from me
For such a grace? We kiss no clowns," saith she.
My lips I would not with a kiss so vile
THE PICTURE OF ICARUS IN WAX.
WHAT once did unto thee impart
The means of death, by happy art
Now thee restores to life again:
Yet still remember to refrain
Ambitious flights; nor soar too nigh
The sun of an inflaming eye;
For so thou may'st, scorch'd by those beams,
In ashes die, as once in streams.
ON A MARBLE STATUE OF NERO,
WHICH FALLING KILLED A CHILD.
THIS statue, bloody Nero, does present
To tyrants a sad document.
Though marble, on his basis yet so fast
He stood not, but he fell at last :
And seems as when he liv'd, as cruel still,
He could not fall, but he must kill.
To gain a supper, thy shift (Philomuse!)
Is to vent lies, instead of truths, for news:
Thou know'st what Pacorus intends to do,
Can'st count the German troops and Sarmats too.
The Dacian general's mandates dost profess
To know, and victories before the express.
How oft it rains in Egypt, thou as well,
And number of the Lybian fleet, can'st tell.
Whom Victor in the next Quinquatrian games
Cæsar will crown, thy knowing tongue proclaims.
Come, leave these shifts: thou this night (Philo
muse)
Shalt sup with me; but, not a word of news.
ON PAULA.
MART. L. 9. EPIGR. 5.
FAIN she'd have Priscus ; and who blame her can? But he'll not have her: and who'll blame the man?
ON AULUS, A POET-HATER.
MART. L. 8. epig. 63.
AULUS loves Thestius; him Alexis fires ;
Perhaps he, too, our Hyacinth desires :
Go now, and doubt if poets he approves,
When the delights of poets Aulus loves!
ON LENTINUS,
BEING TROUBLED WITH AN AGUE.
LENTINUS! thou dost nought but fume and fret,
To think thy ague will not leave thee yet.
Why it goes with thee; bathes as thou dost do,
Eats mushrooms, oysters, sweetbreads, wild boar
Oft drunk by thee with Falern wine is made, [too,
Nor Cacub drinks unless with snow allay'd:
Tumbles in roses daub'd with unctuous sweets,
Sleeps upon down between pure cambric sheets;
And when it thus well fares with thee, would'st thou
Have it to go unto poor Dama now?
WHY a rich wife (Priscus) I will not wed,
Ask'st thou ?—I would not have my wife, my head:
Husbands should have superiority;
So man and wife can only equal be.
ON HORACE, A POOR FELLOW.
MART. L. 4. EPIGR. 2.
HORACE alone, 'mongst all the company,
In a black gown the plays did lately see.
Whilst both the commons and the knights of Rome,
Senate, and Cæsar, all in white did come.
When straight it snow'd apace; so he the sight
Beheld as well as all the rest, in white.
ON A SWALLOW,
TORN IN PIECES BY HER FELLOWS.
MART. L. 5. EPIG. 67.
WHEN for their winter homes the swallows made,
One 'gainst the custom in her old nest staid.
The rest at spring return'd, the crime perceive,
And the offending bird of life bereave.
Late yet she suffer'd, she deserv'd before,
But then when she in pieces Itys tore.
THROW by thy bow, nor let thy shafts appear, She flies not thee, but does thy weapons fear.
DE EROTIO PUELLA.
MART. L. 5. epigr. 38.
SHE (who than down of aged swans more fair,
More soft was than Galæsian lambkins are;
More beauteous than those shells Lucrinus shows,
Or stones which Eurythræan waves disclose;
Smooth as the elephant's new polish'd tooth,
Whiter than lilies in their virgin growth,
Or snow new fallen; the colour of whose tresses
Ontvy'd the German curls, or Bætic fleeces;
Whose breath the Pestan rosaries excell'd,
The honey in Hymættian hives distill'd,
Or chafed amber's scent: with whom conferr'd,
The phoenix was but thought a common bird)
She, she, in this new tomb yet warm, doth lie,
Whom the stern hand of cruel Destiny
In her sixth year, e'er quite expir'd, snatch'd hence,
And with her all my best joys: yet 'gainst all sense
Pætus persuades me not to grieve for her:
“Fie!” says he, (whilst his hair he seems to tear)
"Art not asham'd to mourn thus for a slave?
I have a wife laid newly in the grave,
Fair, rich, and noble, yet I live, you see!"
O what than Pætus can more hardy be?
No sorrow sure a heart like his can kill,
H' hath gain'd ten thousand pounds', yet he lives
ON MANCINUS,
A PRATING BRAGGART. MART. L. 4. EPIG. 61.
THOU mad'st thy brags, that late to thee a friend
A hundered crowns did for a present send:
But four days since (when with the wits we met)
Thou saidst Pompilla too (or I forget)
By the death of his wife.
Wealth left, and not from labour growing;
A grateful soil, a hearth still glowing;
No strife, small business, peace of mind,
Quick wit, a body well inclin'd,
Wise innocence, friends of one heart,
Cheap food, a table without art;
Nights which nor cares nor surfeits know,
No dull, yet a chaste bedfellow;
Sleeps which the tedious hours contract;
Be what thou mayst be, nor exact
Aught more; nor thy last hour of breath
Fear, nor with wishes hasten death.
EPITAPHIUM GLAUCE.
MART. L. 6. EPIG. 28.
HERE Melior's freed-man, known so well,
Who by all Rome lamented fell,
His dearest patron's short-liv'd joy,
Glaucias, beneath this stone doth lie,
Near the Flaminian way interr'd :
Chaste, modest, whom quick wit preferr'd
And happy form, who to twelve past,
Scarce one year added; that, his last.
If, passenger, thou weep'st for such a loss,
Mayst thou ne'er mourn for any other cross.
TO SEXTUS.
MART. L. 2. EPIG. 3.
You say y' owe nothing; and 'tis true you say; For he owes only, who hath means to pay.
TO MAXIMUS.
MART. L. 7. EPIGR. 72.
TH' Esquiliæ, a house of thine, doth show
Mount Aventine, and the Patrician row.
Hence Cy bel's fane, thence Vesta's thou dost view;
From this th' old Jupiter, from that the new.
Where sh all I meet thee? in what quarter, tell?
He that does every where, does no where dwell.
TO STELLA.
MART. L. 7. EPIGR. 35.
WHEN my poor villa could not storms sustain,
Nor wat❜ry Jove, but swam in floods of rain,
Thou sent'st me tiles, wherewith to make a fence
'Gainst the rude tempest's sudden violence.
We thank thee, Stella: but cold winter's near,
The villa's cover'd, not the villager.
ON PARTHENOPEUS.
MART. L. 11. EPIC. 87.
THY doctor, that he may assuage the pain
Of thy sore throat, which a sharp cough doth strain,
Prescribes thee honey, sweet-meats, luscious pies,
Or what e'er else stills frétful children's cries:
Yet leav'st thou not thy coughing: now we see
'Tis no sore throat, but sweet tooth troubles thee.
ON PHILÆNUS.
MART. L. 11. EPIGR. 102.
Ir how Philænus may be styl'd
A father, who ne'er got a child,
Thus he bespake his men before the fight: Courage, my mates! let's dine, for we to night Shall sup" (says he) "in Heaven." This having said,
But try if he you for your new friend take, May happily an old companion make.
MARCUS ANTON. PRIMUS HIS PICTURE.
MART. L. 10. EPIG. 32.
THIS picture, which with violets you see
And roses deck'd, ask'st thou whose it may be?
Such was Antonius in his prime of years,
Who here still young, tho' he grow old, appears.
Ah! could but art have drawn his mind in this,
Not all the world could show a fairer piece.
SEE'ST thou not, how Socrates' head
(For all its height) stands covered
With a white pertiwig of snow?
Whilst the labouring woods below
Are hardly able to sustain
The weight of winter's feather'd rain;
And the arrested rivers stand
Imprison'd in an icy band?
Dispel the cold; and to the fire
Add fuel, large as its desire;
And from the Sabine cask let fly
(As free as liberality)
The grapes' rich blood, kept since the Sun
His annual course four times hath run.
Leave to the gods the rest, who have
Allay'd the winds, did fiercely rave
In battle on the billowy main,
Where they did blust'ring tug for reign:
So that no slender cypress now
Its spi. like crown does tott'ring bow:
Nor aged ash trees, with the shock
Of blasts impetuous, do rock.
Seek not to morrow's fate to know;
But what day Fortune shall bestow,
Put to a discreet usury.
Nor (gentle youth!) so rigid be
With froward scorn to disapprove
The sweeter blandishments of love.
Nor mirthful revels shun, whilst yet
Hoary austerity is set
Far from thy greener years; the field
Or cirque should now thy pastime yield:
Now nightly at the hour select,
And 'pointed place, love's dialect,
Soft whispers, should repeated be;
And that kind laughter's treachery,
By which some virgin, closely laid
In dark confinement, is betray'd:
And now from some soft arm, or wrist,
A silken braid, or silver twist,
Or ring from finger, should be gain'd,
By that too nicely not retain'd.
AD PUELLAM EDENTULAM.
MART. L. 2. EPIG. 41.
"SMILE, if th'art wise; smile still, fair maid!"
Once the Pelignian poet said;
But not to all maids spake he this,
Or spake he to all maids I wist,
Yet not to thee; for thou art none.
Thy bare gums show three teeth alone,
Scal'd o'er with black and yellow rust:
If then thy glass or me thou'lt trust,
Thou laughter shouldst no less abhor,
Than rough winds crisped Spanius, or
The neat-drest Priscus the rude touch
Of boisterous hands, and fear as much
As Cælia does the Sun; or more
Than painted Bassa does a shower.
Looks thou shouldst wear more grave and sad
Than Hector's wife or mother had :
Never at comedies appear;
All festive jollities forbear,
And what e'er else doth laughter cause,
And the clos'd lips asunder draws.
Thou childless mothers' shouldst alone,
Or brothers' hapless fates, bemoan:
Or follow still some mournful bearse,
And with sad tragedies converse.
Then rather do as I advise,
Weep (Galla) still, weep, if thou'rt wise.
THIS tomb Maronis holds, o'er which doth stand
A bowl, carv'd out of flint, by Mentor's hand :
The tipling crone while living, death of friends
Ne'er touch'd, nor husband's, nor dear children's
ends.
This only troubles her, now dead, to think,
The monumental bowl should have no drink.
ON BIBINUS,
A NOTORIOUS DRUNKARD.
THE Sot Loserus is drunk twice a day;
Bibinus only once: now of these say,
Which may a man the greatest drunkard call?
Bibinus still; for he's drunk once for all.
ON POOR CODRUS,
WHO THOUGH BLIND, WAS YET IN LOVE.
MART. L. 3. EPIG. 15.
NONE in all Rome like Codrus trusts, I find :
How, and so poor! he loves, and yet is blind.
OR A CITY WELL ORDERED.
CASIMER.
FOREIGN Customs from your land,
Thebans by fair laws command:
And your good old rites make known
Unto your own.
Piety your temples grace;
Justice in your courts have place:
Truth, peace, love, in every street
Banish vice, walls guard not crimes; Vengeance o'er tall bulwarks climbs: O'er each sin a Nemesis
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