X.

TO CYNTHIA,

ON HER BIRTHDAY.

Mirabar, quidnam misissent mane Camenae.

THIS morn I marvelled why the tuneful Nine
Before my couch at blush of sunrise stood;

Of Cynthia's natal day they sent a sign,

And, thrice, loud clapped their hands with omen good.

Ye winds, be still; no cloud obscure the sky;
Calm on the shore let the rude billow sleep;
Let sorrow cease to dim the mourner's eye,
And marble Niobe forget to weep.

Let the lorn halcyons hush their doleful cries,
Nor Procne mourn lost Itys; and do thou,
Dear one, with happy omen born, arise,

Adore the gods who claim thy homage now.

And first with water pure dull sleep remove,

With skilful fingers gloss thy gleaming hair; Then don the dress first lured my eyes to love,

And round thy brow a flowery chaplet wear.

And pray thy potent charms may bloom eterne,
And o'er my head thy rule remain supreme;
On the crowned altar let sweet incense burn,

And cheerful flames through all thy dwelling gleam.

Then spread the board; all night the goblets drain; From murrhine box the saffron essence pour; Dance till the flute croaks breathless, nor restrain Thy wanton prattle while we tread the floor.

Let the glad feast unwelcome slumber scare,
And all the neighbouring street with echo ring,
Then let the dice to thee and me declare

Which one the Boy-god smites with heavy wing.

When many a cup has whiled the hours away,

And love's fair queen shall sound the welcome call, The yearly solemn love-rites let us pay,

And so conclude thy birthday festival.

XI.

LOVE'S BONDAGE.

Quid mirare meam si versat femina vitam?

WHY marvel that a woman sways my life

And drags me bankrupt as her will ordains? Why brand me coward when I shun the strife, Unfit to break my yoke and burst my chains?

Better the sailor reads the gathering gloom,

And wounds have taught the soldier what to fear; Thus I, too, used to boast in youthhood's bloom: Learn from my case to dread the danger near.

'Neath yoke of adamant Medea brake

The flame-breath'd bulls and sowed with war the wold,

Closed the fell jaws of the keen warder-snake,

That Aeson's house might gain the fleece of gold.

On horse Penthesilea boldly dared

Erst launch the shaft against the Grecian fleet; Stripped of her golden casque, and forehead bared, Her beauty laid her victor at her feet.

And Omphale such beauty rare attained

The Lydian maid who bathed in Gyges' lakeThat he, whose pillars told earth's peace regained,

Plied with hard hand soft tasks for her sweet sake.

Semiramis built Babylon, Persia's pride,

And made her work with brick-reared ramparts strong, Whereon two cars could meet and pass-no side

Or axle grazing as they swept along.

She bade Euphrates cleave the castled plain,
Bade Bactra now the seat of empire be*.
But wherefore heroes, wherefore gods arraign ?
Jove shames himself and all his family.

Why should I speak of her who stained our shield,
Whose pampered slaves her battered lovers were;
Who asked for harlot-hire that Rome should yield
Her walls and senate's freedom up to her—

Fell Alexandria! den of guile? and you,

Memphis, for us too oft a gory land!

Whose sand three triumphs from great Pompey drew :
No day from thee, O Rome! shall wipe this brand.

Better thou'dst died on the Phlegraean plain,

Or bent thy neck 'neath Caesar's conquering sword. Thou, foul Canopus' harlot-queen,—sole stain

Left from old Philip's line by us deplored—

Daredst set the hound Anubis 'gainst our Jove,
And force our Tiber Nile's proud threats to bear,
Rome's war-trump for thy jingling rods remove,
With puny rafts Liburnia's triremes scare,

*

Jussit et imperio surgere Bactra caput.-(Cdd.)

For surgere we should probably read subdere, the conjecture of the elder Burmann, as the statement in the text does not accord with history. The meaning would then be

Bade Bactra hide her head and humbled be.

Stretch thy foul gauze o'er the Tarpeian's brow,
'Mid marble kings and Marius' trophies reign:
What boots Tarquinius' broken sceptre now,

Well named the "Proud," if we must bear thy chain ?

Triumph, O Rome! now saved, pray Heaven may save
Augustus' life for many a day to come!

Yet back to timid Nile's far-wandering wave

Thou fled'st: O queen! thy hands were chained by Rome.

I saw thine arms bit by the sacred asp,

And o'er thy limbs death's slumber silent steal. Thou criedst, "My own and wine-steeped lover's grasp How weak, O Rome! while Caesar watched thy weal."

The seven-hill'd city, empress of the world,

War-frighted, feared a woman's threats! go, mete Spoiled Hannibal, proud Syphax headlong hurled, And Pyrrhus' glory shivered at her feet.

The yawning chasm won Curtius fair renown;
Brave Decius spurred his steed to crush the foe;
Yon path attests Horatius' bridge hewn down;
One Roman took his surname from the crow.

These Heaven-built walls are Heaven's eternal care;
Scarce Jove, while Caesar's safe, may Rome dismay.
Where Scipio's fleets? Camillus' standards where ?
And thou, O Bosphorus ! late Pompey's prey?

Leucadian Phoebus will record the rout

That bade a nation's navy ride no more. But, sailor, landward bound or sailing out, Breathe Caesar's name the wide Ionian o'er.