Nor of his sin be loose-tongued scandal mute, XXI. TO CYNTHIA. Magnum iter ad doctas proficisci cogor Athenas. AFAR to learnèd Athens I must fare, I call-don't see her; if I do, 'twill be One hope is left love shall 'neath other skies * Now, comrades, push our vessel off from shore, * Remorumque pares ducite sorte vices, should perhaps be rendered And pull with steady stroke the balanced oar. Adieu, Rome's towers and friends I cherished here! There with Platonic lore I'll purge my soul; Or lapse of years, or else the severing brine, In some calm nook will heal these wounds of mine ; . Or I shall die, by no base love laid low, And, biding Nature's time, with honour go. XXII. TO TULLUS. Frigida tam multos placuit tibi Cyzicus annos. So long hath frozen Cyzicus, my Tullus, pleased thee well, Where 'neath the narrow Isthmus wild Propontis' billows swell! Have Dindymus, and Cybele carved from the sacred vine,* The path the steeds of Pluto took with lovely Proserpine, And Athamantic Helle's cities, then, such charms for thee? And, Tullus, dost thou never feel one fond regret for me? Though now Heaven-bearing Atlas were by thee with pleasure scanned, And the all-dread Medusa's head cut off by Perseus' hand, And Geryon's stalls, and, in the dust, the marks of Hercules With huge Antaeus wrestling; and the whole Hesperides; And though thou wert to cleave the Colchian Phasis with thy crew, And track the course of that fair ship that once on Pelion grew, When hewn into a boat-like shape the erst-untravelled pine, Led on by Argonautic dove, sailed up the cliff-locked brine; Though thou shouldst to Ortygia sail, and seek Cäyster's shore,+ And where Nile's waters to the sea in seven vast channels pour, * Dindymus et sacra fabricata e vite Cybebe.-(Haupt.) Et sis, qua Ortygia et visenda est ora Cäystri.—(Mueller.) Not all the wonders of the world can mate the Roman land, Where Nature all her choicest charms has strown with lavish hand. Land fitter far for deeds of war than prone to acts of bale, The cheek of Fame will never blush, O Rome to tell thy tale; For ever strong in clemency, as brave in arms, we stand, Here doth Tiburtine Anio flow; here sweet Clitumnus' river From Umbrian hill; here Marcius' rill-a work will last for ever; The Alban lake and Nemorensian fed by kindred wave; And the salubrious stream that drink to Pollux' charger gave. Here crawl no hornèd serpents, underneath with scales agleam Nor with unheard-of monsters do Italia's waters teem; Here for a mother's sin no clanking chains our maidens dread, Nor from Ausonian feasts doth Phoebus, shuddering, hide his head; Here never fateful fires have blazed to slay the absent one, Here Juno ne'er with crooked horns hath marred a rival's brow, Or, torn by fearful jealousy, transformed her to a cow; No torture-trees of Sinis here, nor Sciron's rocks of gloom, Nor yielding branches earthward bent to work the bender's doom. L Here, Tullus, is thy Hill of Home-thy passing fair abode; Here, suited to thy rank, thou still mayst walk in honour's road; Here will thy speeches charm, and Rome will give a wife to thee, And ample hope that thou mayst yet thy children's children see. XXIII. THE LOST TABLETS. Ergo tam doctae nobis periere tabellae. My clever little tablets then are gone, And with them all the good things writ thereon; Or this: "To-day together we shall dine, The night we'll spend, and Love shall crown the wine;" And every joke a lively girl can find, When for an hour's sweet talk she feels inclined. |