ADDRESSED TO A LADY,

WITH A PRINT OF CORNELIA.

WHEN Rome was yet in antient virtue great,

Ere tyrant CESARS had unnerv'd the state;
Proud of her toilette's wealth, a modish Fair
The coftly hoard to fam'd CORNELIA bare;
And, having press'd it on her cold survey,
With conscious triumph claim'd a like display.

Soon as from school her boys, the GRACCHI, came; "Behold my jewels (cried the happy Dame)

"These are the gems a mother most should prize, "These glitter brightest to maternal eyes."

Her inmoft foul confounded at the view,

The felf-admonifh'd vifitant withdrew.

Such were the matrons virtuous Rome admir'd: From such sprang patriots who, by toils untir'd, Even to the laft defpotic fway defied;

And, vanquifh'd in the noble conflict-died.

One fuch I could, but may not name (for fhe,
Blind to herself, would deem it flattery)
One who, CORNELIA-like, each hour employs.
Sweet labour! 'mid the sphere of filial joys:
To courtiers leaves exhaufted India's ftore;
And, rich in living diamonds, asks no more.

TRANSLATED.

CORNELIA.

EXPERTA nondum CÆSARUM tyrannidem,

Romana ftabat res; eratque adhuc sui

Urbs domina, cunctas quæ fubegerat manu;
Matrona cum gemmas, fuperba oftendere
Quas habuit ipfa quippè opes, CORNELIA
Tulit videndas: Has at illa paululùm

Oculo irretorto frigidifque laudibus
Dignata, filios ut ludo domum

Cernit reverfos-" En mihi caros (ait)

"Solùm lapillos! Nulla matrem tam juvat

Confpecta gemma, quam fibi quas ipfamet

"Parit." Reprênsa his vocibus matrona abit.

Talefque Roma, dum manebat libera, Sufpexit ufque foeminas; quæ filios Peperêre GRACCHOS, ftrenuos ob patriam Pugnare pro patriâque item fortes mori.

Talemque ego hodiè nominare fœminam Poffem (fed illa fors vetaret) quæ fuis Impendit omnes, prifca ceu CORNELIA, Natis labores; gemmulifque cæteræ

Turbæ relictis, ipfa opes vivas habet.

QUAND

UAND L'AMOUR nacquit à Cythere,

On intrigua dans le pays;

VENUS dit, Je fuis bonne mere;

"C'est moi, qui nourrirai mon fils.”

W

HEN LOVE was born of heavenly line,

What dire intrigues difturb'd Cythera's joy! Till VENUS cried, "A mother's heart is mine "None but myself shall nurse my boy."

But, infant as he was, the child

In that divine embrace enchanted lay;

And, by the beauty of the vase beguil❜d,

Forgot the beverage-and pin'd away.

"And must my offspring languish in my fight?

(Alive to all a mother's pain,

The Queen of Beauty thus her court address'd)

"No: Let the most discreet of all my train

"Receive him to her breast:

"Think all, he is the God of young delight."

Alors la CANDEUR, la TENDRESSE,

La GAÏTÉ vinrent s'offrir;

Et même la DELICATESSE :

Nulle n'avoit de quoi le nourrir.

On penchoit pour la COMPLAISANCE, Mais l'enfant eût été gâté :

On avoit trop d'experience,

Pour fonger à la VOLUPTÉ.

Enfin de ce choix d'importance
Cette cour ne decida rien :

Quelqu'une propofa l'ESPERANCE,

Et l'enfant s'en trouva fort bien.

On pretend que la JOUISSANCE,

Qui croyoit devoir le nourrir,

Jaloufe de la preference,

Guettoit l'enfant pour s'en faifir.