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they abound with striking beauties; and that, upon the whale, those critics do no great injury to Tibullus, who dill ascribe them to that poe.

As Sulpicia and Cerinthus perfectly understood cne another, we must not expect in their poems those sillies and transitions of passion, that frantic and despondent air, so observable in Tibullus : for

these are the natural emanations of a heated fancy and a distracted heart. But the poems before us abound in what the moderns denominate gallant flattery. Most of them show the poet and happy lover. They give us link anecdotes of their paslion, and make us regret we have- Bo more.


Great god of war ! Sulpicia, lovely maid,

To grace your calends, is in pomp array'J.

If beauty warms you, quit th' etherial height,

E'en Cytherea will indulge the sight:

Hut while you gaze o'er all her matchless charms,

Beware your hands should meanly drop your arms!

When Cupid would the gods with love surprise.

He lights his torches at her radiant eyes.

A secret fjrace her every act improves.

And pleasing follows wheresoe'er she moves: ici

If loose her hair upon her bosom plays;

Unnunmber'd charms that negligence betrays:

Or if 'tis plaited with a labour'd care,

Alike the labmir'd plaits become the fair.

Whether rich Tyrian robes her charms invest,

Or all in snowy white the nymph i- drest,

All, all she graces, still supremely fair,

Still charms spectators with a fond despair.

A thousand dresses thus Vertumnus wears,

And beauteous equally in each appears. 20

The richest tints and deepest Tyrian hue, To thee, O wonderous maid! are solely due: To thee th' Arabian husbandman should bring The spicy produce of his eastern spring: Whatever gems the swarthy Indians boast. Their shelly treasures, and their golden coast. Alone thou merit'st! come, ye tuneful choir \ And come, bright Phcebusl with thy plaufive lyre!

This solemn festival harmonious praise,

No theme so much deserves harmonious lays. 30


Whethch, fierce churning boars! in meads ye stray,

Or haunt the shady mountain's devious way;
Whet not your tusks, my lov'd Cerinthus (pare!
Know,Cupid! I consign him to your care.
What madness'tis, siiaKg'd trackless wilds to beat,
And wound, with pointed thorns, your tender

O ! why to savage beasts your charms oppose?
With toils and bipod-hounds why their haunts en-
close r *
The lust of game decoys you far away;
Ye blood-hounds perish, and ye toils decay! 10

Yet, yet could 1 with lov'd Cerinthus rove Through dreary desarts, and the thorny grove: The cumbrous meshes on my shoulders bear, And face the monsters with my barbed spear:


Could track the bounding stags through tainted grounds.

Beat up their cover, and unchain the hounds:
But most :o spread our artful toils I'd joy,
For while we watch'd them, I could clasp the boy!
Then, as encrane'd in amorous bliss we lay,
Mix'd foul with foul, and melted all away! SO
Snar'd in our nets, the boar might safe retire,
And owe his safety to our mutual fire.

O ; without me ne'er taste the joys of love,
But a chaste hunter in my absence prove.
And O 1 my boars the wanton fair destray,
Who would Cerinthus to their arms decoy!
Yet, yet I dread !—Be sports your father's care;
But you, all passion ! to my arms repair!


Come, Phccbus! with your loosely floating hair,
O sooth her torture, and restore the fair!
Come, quickly come ! we supplicant implore,
Such charms your happy skill ne'er sav'd before!
Let not her frame, consumptive pine away,
Her eyes grow languid, and her bloom decay;
Propitious come '. and with you bring along
Each pain subduing herb, and soothing so»g;
Or real ills, or whate'er ills we fear,
To ocean's farthest verge let torrents bear. IO
O '. rack no more, with harsh, unkind delays,
The youth, who ceaseless for hti safety prays;
'Twixt love and rage his tortur'd foul is torn;
And now he prays, now treats the gods with scorn.
Take heart, fond youth! you have not vainly

S'ill persevere to love th' inchanting maid:
Sulpicia is your own! for you stie sighs.
And flights all other conquests of her eyes:
Dry then your tears; your tears would fitly flow
Did she on others her esteem bestow. JO

O come! what honour will be yours, to save
At once two lovers from the doleful grave?
Then both will emulous exalt your skill;
With grateful tablets,both your temples sill:
Both heap with spicy gums your sacred fire;
Both sing your praises to th' harmonious lyre:
Your brother-gods will prize your healing power?.
Lament their attributes, and envy yours.


On my account, to grief a ceaseless prey, Dost thou a sympathetic anguish prove 1 3*

1 would not wiih to live another day.

If my recovery did not charm my love: For what were life, and healrh, and bloom to me, Were they displeasing,beauteous youth! to thee.


With feasts I'll ever grace the sacred morn,
When my Ceiinthus, lovely youth was born.
_Ac birth, to you tli' unerring sisters lung
Unbounded empire o'er the gay and young:
But T, chief I! (if you my love reppy),
With rapture own your ever-pleasing sway.
This I conjure you, by your charming tye«,
Where love's soft god in wanton ambush lies!
This by your genius, and the joys we stole.
Whose sweet remembrance still enchants my foul!
Grtat natal genius! grant my heart's desire, n
So flull I heap with costly gums your lire '.
Whenever fancy paints me to the boy,
Let his breast pant with an impatient joy:
lint if the libertine for others sigh
(Which love forbid !) O love! your aid deny.
Nor, love! be partial, let us both confess
The pleasing pain, or malce my passion less.
But O! much rathsr 'us my foul's dt sire,
That both may feel an equal, endless sire. 20

In secret my Cerinthus bc^s the fame,
But the youth blushes to confess his flame:
Assent, thou god '. to whom his heart is known,
Whether he public ask, or secret own.

POEM VI. Accept, O natal queen! with placent air, The incense offer'd by the learned fair. She's rob'd in cheerful pomp, O power divine! She'srob'd to decorate your matron-shrine; Such her pretence; but well her lover knows Whence her gay look, and whence her finery flows.

Thou, who dost o'er the nuptial bed preside,"j O! let not envious night their joys divide, J. But make the bridegroom amorous as the bride !j So shall they tally, matchless lovely pair! A youth all transport, and a melting fair? lo Then let no spies their secret haunts explore , Teach them thy wiles, O love' and guard the door.

Assent, chaste queen! in purple pomp appear; Thrice wine is pour'd and cakes await you, here. Her mother tells her for what boon to pray; Her heart denies it, though her lips obey. She burns, that altar as the flames devour; She burns, and flights the safety in her power. 19 So may the boy, whose chains you proudly wear, Through youth the soft indulgent anguish bear; And when old age has chill'd his every vein, The dear remembrance may he still retain '.


At last the natal odious morn draws nigh, When to your cold, cold villa 1 must go;

There, far, too far from my Cerinthus sigh: Oh why, Meffala! will you plague ine so?

Let studious mortals prite the sylvan scene;

And ancient maidens hide them in the shade; Green tree« perpetually give me the spleen;

For crowds, lor joy, for Rome, Sulpicia'scnadc' 111.

Your too officious kindness gives me pain.

flow fall the hailstone*! hark! how howls the wind! I? Then know, to grace your birth day should I deijt,

My soul, my all, I leave at Rome behind.


Ar last the fair'sdetermin'd not to go;

My Lord! you know the whimsies of the so. Then let us gay carouse, let odours flow;

Your mind no longer with her absence vei: For O! consider, time incessant flics; But evety day's a birth-day to the wife.!


That I, descended of Patrician race,
With charms of fortune, and with charms off;:'.
And so indifferent grown to you o( late,
So little car'd for, now excites no hate.
Rare taste, and worthy of a poet's brain.

To prey on garbage, and a stave adore!
In such to find out charms a bard must feign

Beyond what fiction ever feign'd of yore. Her friends may think Sulpicia is dilgrac'd; No! no! (lie honours your transcendent ui-;-"


If from the bottom of my love-sick heart,
Of last night's coyness 1 do not repent,
May I no more your tender anguish hear,
No longer sec you shed th' impassiou'd teat.

You grasp'd my knees, and yet to let yo« pit—
O night more happy with Cerinthus spent!
My flame with coyness to conceal I thought.
But this concealment was too dearly bought-


Fame fays, my mistress loves another swain;
Would I were deaf, when fame repeats thr«tc£s
All crimes to her imputed, give me pain,
Not change my love; Fame, flop your sirs


Let other maids, whose eyes less proffcree

prove, .t
Publish my weakness, and condemn my lore.
Exult, my heart! at last the qneen of joy,
Won by the music of her votary's strain.
Leads to the couch of bliss herself the bos;
And bids enjoyment thrill in every vein;
Last night entrane'd in ecstasy we lay,
And chid the quick, too quick return oli'J

But stop, my hand! beware what loose you scrawl, I Know, with a youth of worth, the night I
Lett into curious hand* the billet fall. 10 | spent,

No—the remembrance charms!—liogonc, gri - | And cannot, cannot, for my foul repent!
Matrons! be yours formality of face. {mace! |



Ver. a. One of the critics has observed upon this passage, that Venus must either have had great confidence in her own charms; or have been little solicitous what became of her paramour Mirs, to indulge him in this interview.

Ver. 6. When Euryclea, in the Odyssey (lib.xix ) discovers Ulysses (whom she was battling) by the fear in his leg, her joyful surprise is finely imagined, by her being ready to faint, and her dropping the jar of water. Nor less beautiful is the surprise testified by Paris, when by chance he beheld the fair bosom of Helen: Dun stupco vi'us (nam pocula forte ter.ebam)

Tortihs e digitis excidit anfa meis.

£f. Her. I'm. 2tl.

Menage, in his Bird-Catcher and Adonis, gives a no less sine instance of astonishment; but Milton has surpassed them al!, in the picture he has drawn of Adam's consternation and horror, upon heiug told by Eve that Die had eaten of the forbidden fruit, which is a beautiful contrast to the joy which she snowed in narrating the fact:

Thus Eve, with count'nance blithe, her story told,
But in her cheek distemper flushing glow d.
On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd,
Astoned stood, and blank; while horror dull
Kan through his veins, and all his joints rclax'd;
from his slack hand the garlaud, wrearh'd for Eve,
Down dropt, and all the faded roses (hed:
Speechless he stood, ami pair; tjll thus at length
First to himself he inward silence broke.

Sect ix. I. 886.

What the author of this po-m ascribes to the power of beauty, Pindar ascribe* (pcrlups no less truly) to the force of harmony.

X;vrict. f$9u*yZ AfiXAw, dtc. Pytlt. OJ. I.

which the Ute Mr. West has thus poetically rendered:

Hail, goldin lyre! whose heaven invented string

To Pku'ous and the black hair'd nine belongs, Who, in sweet chorus, round t^ieir tuneful king,

Mix v ith thy sounding chords their sacred songs. The darce, gay queen of pleasure '. thee attends;

Thy jocund strains her listening feet inspire: And cath melodious tongue it* suspend*.

Till thou, great leader of the heavenly choir! With wanton art preluding, viv*!t the si;*n— Swella the full concert then with harmony divine.

DECADE II. Then, of their streaming lightnings all disarm il,

The smouldering thunderbolts of Jove expire: Then, by the music of thy nnmbcrs charm'd,

The birds tierce monarch drops his vengeful ire; Pernh'd on the sceptre of th' Olympian king,

The thrilling darts of harmony he feels;
And indolently hangs his rapid wing,

While gentle sleep his closing eye-iid seals;
And o'er bis heaving limbs in loose array,
To every balmy gale, the rustling feathers play.

But what gave rise to this quotation follows Decade HI.

Ev'n Mars, stern god of violence and war.

Sooths with thy lulling strains his furious breast,

And, driving from his heart each bloody care,
His pointed lance consigns to peaceful rest.

Which image, as well as that of the eagle, are thus imitated by two excellent poets of our own days.

O ! sovereign of the willing soul
Parent os sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting sliell! the sullen cares

And frantic passions hear thy soft controul.
On Thracia'a hills the lord of war
Has curb'd the fury of his car,
And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the Icepter'd hand
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathet'd king
With ruffled plumes and flagging wing;
Q^ench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
The terror of his beak, and lightning of his eye.

Ode by Gray i

Whit follows, is from Er. Akenfide's Hymn to the Naiads:

With emulation all the sounding choir, And bright Apollo, leader of the song, Their voices through the liquid air exalt, And sweep their lusty wings: those awfal strings, That charm the mind of gods; that sill the courts Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet Of evils, with immortal rest from cares; Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove; And quench the formidable thunderbolt Of unrelenting fire, with slacken'd wings, While now the solemn concert breathes aro.ind, Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number d notes Poslel's'd, and satiate with the melting tone; Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, I His darts forgetting, and the rapid wheel*

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