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,
Nor in the hour of victory doth fury guide our hand.

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,
As once a mother compassed fell destruction for her son ;
Here savage Bacchants never hunt a Pentheus on a tree,
Nor stag for maiden slaughtered speeds our navies o'er the

sea;

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;
My hands with constant use had worn them so,
Good was their credit whether sealed or no.
Without my presence they could soothe the fair;
And whisper tender tales, were I not there.
No costly golden hinge adorned their backs-
Common the boxwood was, and poor the wax.
Such as they were, they ever leal remained,
And aye for me auspicious issues gained.
Perhaps they bore this message: "Laggard, hey!
I'm wroth with you for yesterday's delay.
Has some more beauteous girl enchanted thee?
Hast thou been busy spreading lies of me?"

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.

Woe's me! they hold some miser's bills at last,
And doubtless lie 'neath heartless ledgers cast;
Who brings them back to me, my gold shall gain :
Who would for gold poor boxwood slips retain?
Boy, on some pillar fix this bill of mine,
With the address, "Propertius,-Esquiline."

XXIV.

CYNTHIA'S PRIDE.

Falsa est ista tuae, mulier, fiducia formae.

TRUST to thy beauty! woman, 'tis a dream;
My once-fond eyes have puffed thy pride, 'twould seem ;
Blinded by love I gave thee wondrous praise-

I'm now ashamed I shrined thee in my lays.

In thee I lauded every varied grace,

Though thine was ne'er, Love knows, a pretty face;
Compared thy colour to the rosy morn,

While pigments did thy hueless cheek adorn,-
Lured on by spell no friends of mine could stay,
Or Thessal witch with ocean wash away.
This tale from me nor fire nor torture drew;
Wrecked in the Aegean, I confessed 'twas true.*

* Naufragus Aegaea vera fatebar aqua.

-This is the reading adopted by most editors; Paley, with the Cdd., reads fatebor.

Of Love's fell furnace then I felt the pains,
And had my hands behind me bound with chains ;
But my wreathed ship has reached the port at last-
I've cleared the Syrtes now and anchor cast.
Tired of the raging sea, I'm getting sane,
And my old scars are quite skin-whole again.
O Reason! if thou art a Power divine,
I dedicate myself before thy shrine;

For all the prayers I breathed to Heaven above
Unheeded fell on the deaf ear of Jove.

XXV.

FAREWELL.

Risus eram positis inter convivia mensis.

CYNTHIA, at banquets people laughed at me;
I was the butt of all their gibes and jeers.
For five whole years I have been true to thee:
Now thou shalt bite thy nails and shed sad tears.

Hence with thy tears! they've tricked me oft before;
I guess some heartless fraud whene'er they flow.
I'l weep to say farewell for evermore,

But my deep wrong shall stem the stream of woe.

Our yoke was light, but thou wouldst not be true.
Adieu, O threshold! where I used to stand
And plead till thou wouldst weep; O door! adieu,
By me ne'er shivered with an angry hand.

Hide as thou wilt thy years, be thine dark cares ! Deep wrinkles all thy loveliness efface!

Then wish to pluck each silver tress, while stares The chiding mirror in thy furrowed face!

In turn, an outcast, suffer proud disdain,
And mourn in age the errors of the past.
I've sung these fateful curses in my strain;

Dread then thy beauty's doom-thy lot at last.