O fatal dower for doting maid to bring,
Love's treason oped thy gates, O luckless king!
Be happier torches yours, expectant brides!
Lashed to the Cretan ship the maiden rides.
Yet meetly Minos sits as judge below,

Just though victorious—to his vanquished foe.

XX a.

THE INVITATION.

Credis eum jam posse tuae meminisse figurae,
Vidisti a lecto quem dare vela tuo?

THINK'ST thou that he who lately left thy bed Remembers still thy form of matchless mould ? O hard of heart! to leave his love for gold! Was all wide Afric worth the tears thou'st shed?

And thou art trusting to the gods above! 'Tis but an airy idle dream, I trow; Poor simple maiden, 'tis as likely now

His heart is pining for another love.

Beauty and chaste Minerva's arts are thine,

And thee thy grandsire's bays bright lustre lend; Happy thy lot if thou hast one true friend : I shall be true-speed hither and be mine.

xx b.

TO CYNTHIA.

Nox mihi prima venit; primae date tempora noctis.

PROLONG 'twill soon be here—our first glad night; O lady Moon! extend thy wonted stay;

Thou, too, who lengthenest thy summer ray, Phoebus, abridge the hours of lingering light.

First we must make a league, our rights lay down, And laws to which we may ourselves appeal. Great Love himself our covenant shall seal; Our witness thou, Night's many-jewelled crown!

How many hours must I this talk prolong,
Ere Venus calls to Love's delightful fray!
Still, when no bonds a union firmly stay,
The gods no vengeance take for nightly wrong.

And soon caprice doth every tie undo

Imposed in lust's ungovernable hour;

May our first nuptial omens give us power To keep our love still leal, our hearts still true.

Then let whoe'er a holy shrine shall scorn,
Invoked to ratify the faith he plights,
Or violate the sacred marriage-rites,
Feel all the woes of ill-timed union born.

Nor of his sin be loose-tongued scandal mute,
Nor maid to him at night her lattice ope,
Or give him, though he weep, one ray of hope:
Still
may he love and never taste love's fruit!

XXI.

TO CYNTHIA.

Magnum iter ad doctas proficisci cogor Athenas.

AFAR to learnèd Athens I must fare,
To lose on that long way my load of care,
That grows from constant sight of Cynthia here,
Where Love still fattens on most ample cheer.
To scare him from me every means I've tried,
But still he presses me on every side.

I call-don't see her; if I do, 'twill be
To find her coldly shrink away from me.
One hope is left love shall 'neath other skies
Be far from me as Cynthia from mine eyes.

*

Now, comrades, push our vessel off from shore,
Draw for your turn in couples at the oar;
Now haul mast-high the lint-white canvas there,
And cleave the billow while the breeze is fair.

* 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!
And thou, be what thou wilt, maid once so dear!
For now rude Adria's billows' guest I'll ride,
And sue the gods that thunder in the tide,
Till on Lechaeum's placid waters' breast,
The Ionian crost, my weary bark shall rest.
My feet! speed through the toils that yet remain,
Where Corinth's isthmus severs oceans twain;
Then, reached the shores that line Piraeus' bay,
I'll climb the slopes of Theseus' weary way.

There with Platonic lore I'll purge my soul;
Sage Epicurus, in thy gardens stroll;
O'er grand Demosthenes enraptured sit;
And, smart Menander, sip thy sparkling wit:
Some picture find that may enchant mine eye,
Or chiselled work in bronze or ivory;

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,t 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.)