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1397

FLOR

DE CUPIDINE ET HYELLA

LORENTES dum forte vagans mea Hyella per hortos

texit odoratis lilia cana rosis:

ecce rosas inter latitantem invenit Amorem:
et simul annexis floribus implicuit:
luctatur primo: et contra nitentibus alis
indomitus tentat solvere vincla puer :
mox ubi lacteolas et dignas matre papillas
vidit et ora ipsos nata movere deos:
impositosque comæ ambrosios ut sensit odores,
quosque legit diti messe beatus Arabs:

I, dixit, mea, quære novum tibi, mater, Amorem ;
imperio sedes hæc erit apta meo.

A. NAVGERIVS

1398 TO A LADY WITH A PRESENT OF A PAIR OF

1399

DRINKING-GLASSES

FAIR Empress of the Poet's soul,
Queen of Poetesses;

Clarinda, take this little boon,
this humble pair of glasses.

And fill them high with generous juice,
as generous as your mind;

and pledge me in the generous toast—
'The whole of human kind!'

'To those who love us!'-second fill;

but not to those whom we love; lest we love those who love not us! a third-To thee and me love!'

GEKOMMEN ist der Maye,

die Blumen und Bäume blühn,
und durch des Himmels Bläue
die rosigen Wolken ziehn.

Die Nachtigallen singen
herab aus der laubigen Höh',
die weissen Lämmer springen

im weichen, grünen Klee.

R. BURNS

1400

1401

14C2

Ich kann nicht singen und springen,
ich liege krank im Grass;
ich höre fernes Klingen,

mir träumt, ich weiss nicht was.

WHEN

EUTHANASIA

H. HEINE

WHEN Time, or soon or late, shall bring the dreamless sleep that lulls the dead, oblivion! may thy languid wing

wave gently o'er my dying bed!

No band of friends or heirs be there,
to weep or wish the coming blow:
no maiden, with dishevell'd hair,
to feel, or feign, decorous woe.

But silent let me sink to earth,

with no officious mourners near:
I would not mar one hour of mirth,
nor startle friendship with a tear.

LORD BYRON

ISSA teco son io molti e molt' anni,

VISSA

con quale amor tu 'l sa, fedel consorte!
poi recise il mio fil la giusta morte,
e mi sottrasse alli mondani inganni.
Se lieta io goda ne i beati scanni,
ti giuro che'l morir non mi fù forte;
se non pensando alla tua cruda sorte,
e che sol ti lasciarà in tante affanni.
Ma la virtù che 'n te dal ciel riluce,
al passar questo abisso oscuro e cieco,
spero che ti sarà maëstra e duce.
Non pianger piu, ch' io sarò sempre teco,
e bella e viva, al fin della tua luce,
venir vedrai me, e rimenarten meco!

'DE

LA FEUILLE

E ta tige détachée,
pauvre feuille desséchée,

où vas tu?' 'Je n'en sais rien;
l'orage a brisé le chêne

A. S. SANNAZARO

qui seul était mon soutien;
de son inconstante haleine
le zéphyr ou l'aquilon
depuis ce jour me promène
de la forêt à la plaine,
de la montagne au vallon.
Je vais où le vent me mène,
sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer;
je vais où va toute chose,
où va la feuille de rose,

et la feuille de laurier.'

V. A. ARNAULT

1403

1404

ON THE DEATH OF A RARE INFANT SIX

YEARS OLD

W Nature's pride, the Graces' treasure,

IT'S perfection, Beauty's wonder,

Virtue's life, his friend's sole pleasure,
this cold marble stone lies under,
which is often moist with tears
for such loss in such young years.
Lovely Boy, thou art not dead,
but from earth to heaven fled;
for base earth was far unfit
for such beauty, grace, and wit.
Thou, alive on earth, sweet Boy,
hadst an angel's wit and face;
and, now dead, thou dost enjoy
in high heaven an angel's place.

PART I §§ 266, 268, 332

F. DAVISON

1405 AN EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honoured

bones,

the labour of an age in piléd stones?

or that his hallowed reliques should be hiđ

under a star-y-pointing pyramid?

dear son of memory, great heir of fame,

what needst thou such weak witness of thy name?

Thou in our wonder and astonishment,
hast built thyself a live-long monument.

For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art,
thy easy numbers flow; and that each heart,
hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
and so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie,

that kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

J. MILTON

1406 ON A BEAUTIFUL FOUNTAIN, forming a COLD

FOU

BATH

‘OUNTAIN, that sparklest through the shady place, making a soft sad murmur o'er the stones that strew thy lucid way! Oh, if some guest should haply wander near, with slow disease smitten, may thy cold springs the rose of health bring back, and the quick lustre to his eye! the ancient oaks that on thy margin wave, the song of birds, and through the rocky cave the clear stream gushing, their according sounds should mingle, and like some strange music, steal sadly, yet soothing, o'er his aching breast. And thou pale exile from thy native shore, here drink, (O couldst thou! as of Lethe's stream!) nor friends, nor bleeding country, nor the views of hills or streams beloved, nor vesper's bell, heard in the twilight vale, remember more!

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that would not cease, but cried the more

upon its mother's breast.

She was full weary of her watch,

and grieved with her child;

she rocked it and rated it,

till that on her it smiled.

Then did she say, "Now have I found
this proverb true to prove:

'The falling out of faithful friends
renewing is of love.""

1409

O more, ye warbling birds, rejoice,
of all that cheered the plain:
echo alone preserves her voice,
and she repeats my pain.
Where'er my love-sick limbs I lay,
to shun the rushing wind,
its busy murmur seems to say,
'She never will be kind!'

The Naiads, o'er their frozen urns,
in icy chains repine;

and each in sullen silence mourns
her freedom lost, like mine!
Soon will the sun's returning rays
the cheerless frost control;
when will relenting Delia chase
the winter of my soul?

W. SHENSTONE

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