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XIX.

THE LOVER.

At vos incertam, mortales, funeris horam.

I.

MORTALS, ye seek with anxious soul
To know death's hour uncertain,
And from the darkly-mantled goal
To lift the awful curtain;
Anon the cloudless sky ye scan,
And lore Phoenician borrow,

To read what stars bring weal to man,
And what is fraught with sorrow.

II.

We track the Parthian o'er the plain,
O'er ocean seek the stranger,
Yet every path o'er earth and main
Is filled with hidden danger;
Again ye rue the roaring din,

The rushing and the rattle,
When troop on troop comes pouring in
To join in doubtful battle.

III.

Ye fear lest fire your homes assail,

And ruin's mad commotion;
Ye dread the cup ye quaff, and quail
Lest death lurk in the potion;
But how he'll die, and when his hour,
The lover's ne'er in error-

Nor Boreas' blasts nor arms have power
To smite his soul with terror.

IV.

Though now he ply the oar, afloat
On Styx's reedy river,

And see above the infernal boat
The gloomy canvas quiver;
Let but his darling sigh-the clay
Will life, sweet life recover,
And back the unpermitted way

Will speed the joyful lover.

XX.

TO JUPITER, ON CYNTHIA'S SICKNESS.

Jupiter! affectae tandem miserere puellae.

PITY my stricken love, O Jove! the blame
Will all be thine if she should die—so fair;

For now the sky with fire is all a-flame,

And earth is burning 'neath the dog-star's glare.

G

Yet not so much to blame is heat or sky,

As heaven's dread name long outraged day by day. This kills, and killed poor girls in days gone by: Their oaths the winds and waters waft away.

Was Venus wroth thou didst her equal shine?
She envies all whose charms with hers compare.
Hast thou despised Pelasgian Juno's shrine,
Or dared deny that Pallas' eyes were fair?

Ah! maidens' tongues were heedless evermore :
This fell disease from pride and beauty rose.
But, love, thy vexed life's weary trials o'er,
A calmer hour awaits thee at the close.

In youth the hornèd Io lowed; now changed,
The cow that drank Nile's waters reigns on high;
And Ino, who in youth the woodlands ranged,
Hears as Leucothoë the poor sailor's cry.

In youth the fair Andromeda was doomed
A prey to savage monsters of the sea;
The same in Perseus' home in wifehood bloomed
And wore her wifely honours royally.

A bear Callisto roamed Arcadia ; now,

A radiant star, she guides the nightly sail : And if the Fates should speed thy rest, I trow Those Fates with bliss shall crown thy burial.

Thou'lt talk to Semele of beauty's bane,

Who, by experience taught, will trust thy tale; Queen crowned 'mid Homer's Heroines thou'lt reign, Nor one thy proud prerogative assail.

Calmly, sick love, to fate the issue leave;

Eternal Jove may smile, and light arise.
O Jove! even Juno's self will grant reprieve,
For Juno sorrows when a damsel dies.

Powerless the wheel by spells of magic driven,
On the cold hearth the half-burnt laurel lies;
The moon refuses to descend from heaven,

And the dark bird outpours its baleful cries.

All that I loved, to the drear realms below
Thou'lt bear, O pale-dark raft of destiny!
If not to one, to two, Heaven, mercy show :
If life be hers, I'll live; if death, I'll die.

O spare her, and in song thy praise I'll swell,
I'll write "The Damsel saved by Jove's decree;"
And, veiled, before thy shrine she'll sit and tell
Her dangers, and her gratitude to thee.

Persephone, continued mercy show,

And thou, her husband, be not more severe;
Since yours so many thousand nymphs below,
O let one lovely maiden linger here!

Iope, fair Tyro, and Europa too,*

Unchaste Pasiphaë, and the heroine-band Of Troy, Achaia, Thebes, now dwell with you, And all the bloom of Priam's ruined land.

* Vobiscumst Iope, vobiscum candida Tyro, Vobiscum Europe nec proba Pasiphae,

Et quot Troia tulit vetus et quot Achaia formas,

Et Thebe et Priami diruta regna senis.—(Mueller.)

Where are Rome's women of renown to-day?
Alas! the greedy pyre has claimed them all;
For beauty dies and fortune flits away-

Death soon or late doth all that lives enthral.

My love, relieved from grievous danger now,
To Dian pay her choral rites meanwhile;
To Isis, too, discharge thy vigil-vow:

Be mine, for all my care, thy loving smile!

XXI.

TO CYNTHIA.

Extrema, mea lux, cum potus nocte vagarer.

My love, as I was roaming late at night,
Wine-flushed, with not a slave to guide my way,
A group of urchins met me in my plight—
How many there might be, I cannot say.

I dared not even count the impish crew-
I was so terrified: some seemed to be
With brands equipped, and some with shafts, a few
Appeared to be preparing chains for me.

The whole were naked. One, more rude than all,

Cried, "Seize him! well you know him! he's the dunce

The angry woman hired us to bemaul."

He spoke; a rope was round my neck at once.

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