TIBULLUS.

BOOK THE FIRST. ELEGY THe first.

THE glitt'ring ore let others vainly heap,

O'er fertile vales extend th' enclosing mound; With dread of neighb'ring foes forsake their sleep, And start aghast at ev'ry trumpet's sound. Me humbler scenes delight, and calmer days; A tranquil life fair poverty secure! Then boast, my hearth, a small but cheerful blaze, And riches grasp who will, let me be poor.

Nor yet be Hope a stranger to my door,

But o'er my roof, bright goddess, still preside!
With many a bounteous autumn heap my floor,
And swell my vats with must, a purple tide.
My tender vines I'll plant with early care,
And choicest apples, with a skilful hand;
Nor blush, a rustic, oft to guide the share,
Or goad the tardy ox along the land.

Let me, a simple swain, with honest pride,
If chance a lambkin from its dam should roam,
Or sportful kid, the little wanderer chide,
And in my bosom bear exulting home.

Here Pales I bedew with milky show'rs,
Lustrations yearly for my shepherd pay,
Revere each antique stone bedeck'd with flow'rs
That bounds the field, or points the doubtful
way.

My grateful fruits, the earliest of the year,
Before the rural god shall duly wait:
From Ceres' gifts I'll cull each browner ear,
And hang a wheaten wreath before her gate.
The ruddy god shall save my fruit from stealth,
And far away each little plund'rer scare:
And you, the guardians once of ampler wealth,
My household gods, shall still my off'rings share.
VUL. XX.

My num'rous herds, that wanton'd o'er the mead, The choicest fatling then could richly yield; Now scarce I spare a little lamb to bleed A mighty victim for my scanty field. And yet a lamb shall bleed, while, rang'd around,' The village youths shall stand in order meet, With rustic hymns, ye gods, your praise resound, And future crops and future wines entreat. Then come, ye pow'rs, nor scorn my frugal board, Nor yet the gifts clean earthen bowls convey; With these the first of men the gods ador'd, And form'd their simple shape of ductile clay. My little flock, ye wolves, ye robbers, spare, Too mean a plunder to deserve your toil; For wealthier herds the nightly theft prepare; There seek a nobler prey, and richer spoil. For treasur'd wealth, nor stores of golden wheat, The hoard of frugal sires, I vainly call;

A little farm be mine, a cottage neat,

And wonted couch where balmy sleep may fall.

"What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain,
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast:
Or lull'd to slumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy sink at last to rest 1."
These joys be mine! O grant me only these,
And give to others bags of shining gold,
Whose steely heart can brave the boist'rous seas,
The storm wide-wasting, or the stiff'ning cold.
Content with little, I would rather stay

Than spend long months amid the wat'ry waste:
In cooling shades elude the scorching ray,
Beside some fountain's gliding waters plac'd.

O perish rather all that's rich and rare,

The diamond quarry, and the golden vein, Than that my absence cost one precious tear, Or give some gentle maid a moment's pain.

Hammond's translation.

With glittring spoils, Messala, gild thy dome,
Be thine the noble task to lead the brave:
A lovely foe me captive holds at home,
Chain'd to her scomful gate, a watchful slave.

Inglorions post! and yet I heed not fame:

Th' applause of crowds for Delia I'd resign:
To live with thee I'd bear the coward's name,
Nor 'midst the scorn of nations once repine.

With thee to live I'd mock the ploughman's toil,
Or on some lonely mountain bend my sheep;
At night I'd lay me on the finty soil,
And happy midst thy dear embraces sleep.

What drooping lover heeds the Tyrian bed,
While the long might is pass'd with many a sigh:
Nor softest down with richest carpets spread,
Nor whisp'ring rills, can close the weeping

eye.

Of threefold iron were his rugged frame,
Who when he might thy yielding heart obtain,
Could yet attend the calls of empty fame,

Or follow arms in quest of sordid gaia.
Unenvy'd let him drive the vanquish'd host,
Thro' captive lands his conquering armies lead;
Unenvy'd wear the robe with gold emboss'd,
And guide with solemn state his foaming steed.

O may 1 view thee with life's parting ray,

And thy dear hand with dying ardour press: Sure thou wilt weep-and on thy lover's clay, With breaking heart, print many a tender

From the sad pomp, what youth, what pitying fair, Returning slow can tender tears refrain?

O Delia, spare thy checks, thy tresses spare,

Nor give my ling'ring shade a world of pain.

But now while smiling hours the Fates bestow,
Let love, dear maid, our gentle hearts unite!
Soon Death will come and strike the fatal blow;
Unseen his head, and veil'd in shades of night.
Soon creeping age will bow the lover's frame,
And tear the myrtle chaplet from his brow:
With hoary locks ili suits the youthfu! flame,
The soft persuasion, or the ardent vow.
Now the fair queen of gay desire is ours,
And leads our follies an indulgent smile:
'Tis lavish youth's t'enjoy the frolic hours,
The wanton revel, and the midnight broil
Your chief, my friends, and fellow-soldier, I

To these light wars will lead you boldly on: Far hence ye trumpets sound and banners fy: To those who covet wounds and fame begone.

And bear them fame and wounds; and riches bear; [prize: There are that fime and wounds and riches For me, while I possess one plenteous year, I'll wealth and uncagre want alike despise.

THE SECOND ELEGY.

WITH wine, more wine, my recent pains deceive,
Tili creeping slumber send a soft reprieve:
Asleep, take heed no whisper stirs the air,
For wak'd, my boy, I wake to heart-felt care.
Now is my Delia watch'd by ruthless spies,
And the gate, bolted, all access denies.
Relentless gate! may storms of wind and rain,
With mingled violence avenge my pain!
May forky thunders, hurl'd by Jove's red hand,
Burst every bolt, and shatter every band!
Ah no! rage turns my brain; the curse recall;
On me, devoted, let the thunder fall!
Then recollect my many wreaths of yore,
How oft you've seen me weep, insensate door!
No longer then our interview delay,
And as you open let no noise betray.

In vain I plead!-Dare then my Delia rise!
Love aids the dauntless, and will blind your spies!
Those who the godhead's soft behests obey,
Steal from their pillows unobserv'd away;
On tiptoe traverse unobserv'd the floor;
The key turn uoiseless, and unfold the door:
In vain the jealous each precaution take,
Their speaking fingers assignations make.
Nor will the god impart to all his aid:
Love hates the fearful, hates the lazy maid;
But through sly windings, and unpractis'd ways,
His bold night-errants to their wish conveys:
For those whom be with expectation fires,
No ambush frightens, and no labour tires;
Sacred the dangers of the dark they dare,
No robbers stop them, and no bravoes scare.
Tho' wintery tempests howl, by love secure,
The howling tempest I with ease eudure:
No watching hurts me, if my Delia smile,
Soft turn the gate, and beckon me the while.

She's mine. Be blind, ye ramblers of the night, Lest angry Venus snatch your guilty sight: The goddess bids her votaries' joys to be From every casual interruption free: With prying steps alarm us not, retire, Nor glare your torches, nor our names inquire: Or if ye know, deny, by Heaven above, Nor dare divulge the privacies of love. From blood and seas vindictive Venus sprung, And sure destruction waits the blabbing tongue! Nay, should they prate, you, Delia, need not fear; Your lord (a sorceress swore) should give no ear! By potent spells she cleaves the sacred ground, And shuddering spectres wildly roam around! I've seen her tear the planets from the sky! Seen lightning backward at her bidding fly! She calls! from blazing pyres the corse descends, And, re-enliven'd, clasps his wondering friends! The fiends she gathers with a magic yell, Then with aspersions frights them back to Hell! She wills, glad summer gilds the frozen pole! She wills, in summer wintery tempests roll! She knows, 't is true, Medea's awful speil! She knows to vanquish the fierce guards of Hell! To me she gave a charm for lovers meet, [peat.") ("Spit thrice, my fair, and thrice the charm re Us, in soft dalliance, should your lord surprise; By this impos'd on, he'd renounce his eyes! But bless no rival, or th' affair is known; This incantation me befriends alone. Nor stopp'd she here; but swore, if I'd agree, By charms or herbs to set thy lover free.