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But wherefore should thy muse tempt mine away From what she loves from darkness into day? Art thou desirous to be told how well

I love thee, and in verse? verse cannot tell.
For verse has bounds, and must in measure
move;

But neither bounds nor measure knows my love.
How pleasant, in thy lines described, appear
December's harmless sports and rural cheer!
French spirits kindling with cærulean fires,
And all such gambols as the time inspires!
Think not that wine against good verse offends,
The Muse and Bacchus have been always friends;
Nor Phoebus blushes sometimes to be found
With ivy, rather than with laurel, crown'd.
The Nine themselves ofttimes have join'd the

song

And revels of the Bacchanalian throng;
Not even Ovid could in Scythian air [there.
Sing sweetly-why-no vine would flourish
What in brief numbers sung Anacreon's muse?
Wine, and the rose that sparkling wine bedews.
Pindar with Bacchus glows-his every line
Breathes the rich fragrance of inspiring wine,
While, with loud crash o'erturned, the chariot lies,
And brown with dust the fiery courser flies.
The Roman lyrist steep'd in wine his lays
So sweet in Glycera's and Chloe's praise.
Now too the plenteous feast and mantling bowl
Nourish the vigor of thy sprightly soul;
The flowing goblet makes thy numbers flow,
And casks not wine alone but verse bestow.
Thus Phoebus favors, and the arts attend,
Whom Bacchus and whom Ceres both befriend.
What wonder, then, thy verses are so sweet,
In which these triple powers so kindly meet!
The lute now also sounds with gold inwrought,
And touch'd with flying fingers nicely taught,
In tapestried halls, high roof d the sprightly lyre
Directs the dancers of the virgin choir.
If dull repletion fright the muse away,
Sights gay as these may more invite her stay;
And trust me while the ivory keys resound.
Fair damsels sport. and perfume steam around,
Apollo's influence, like ethereal flame,
Shall animate, at once, thy glowing frame,
And all the muse shall rush into thy breast,
By love and music's blended powers possest.
For numerous powers light Elegy befriend,
Hear her sweet voice and at her call attend;
Her Bacchus Ceres. Venus, all approve,
And, with his blushing mother, gentl Love.
Hence to such bards we grant the copious use
Of banquets and the vine's delicious juice.
But they who demigods and heroes praise,
And feats perform'd in Jove's more youthful days,
Who now the counsels of high heaven explore,
Now shades that echo the Cerberean roar,
Simply let these, like him of Samos live,
Let herbs to thein a bloodless banquet give;
In beechen goblets let their beverage shine,
Cool from the crystal spring their sober wine!
Their youth should pass in innocence secure
From stain licentious, and in manners pure,
Pure as the priest when robed in white he stands,
The fresh lustration ready in his hands.
Thus Linus lived, and thus, as poets write,
Tiresias, wiser for his loss of sight;
Thus exiled Chalcas thus the Bard of Thrace,
Melodious tamer of the savage race;
Thus train'd by temperance. Homer led, of yore,
His chief of Ithaca from shore to shore,

Through magic Circe's monster-peopled reign,
And shoals insidious with the syren train;
And through the realms where grizzly spectres
dwell,

Whose tribes he fetter'd in a gory spell;
For these are sacred bands and from above
Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove.
Wouldst thou, (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine
ear.)

Wouldst thou be told my occupation here?
The promised King of Peace employs my pen,
The eternal covenant made for guilty men,
The new-born Deity with infant cries
Filling the sordid hovel where he lies;
The hymning angels, and the herald star,
That led the wise, who sought him from afar,
And idols on their own unhallow'd shore
Dash'd, at his birth to be revered no more,

This theme on reeds of Albion I rehearse :
The dawn of that blest day inspired the verse;
Verse that reserved in secret shall attend
Thy candid voice, my critic and my friend!

ELEGY VII.

As yet a stranger to the gentle fires
That Amathusia's smiling queen inspires,
Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts.

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And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts.
Go, child," I said, "transfix the timorous dove!
An easy conquest suits an infant love;
Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall be
Sufficient triumph to a chief like thee!
Why aim thy idle arms at human kind?
Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind."
The Cyprian heard, and, kindling into ire,
(None kindles sooner) burn'd with double fire.
It was the spring and newly risen day
Peep'd o'er the hamlets on the first of May;
My eyes too tender for the blaze of light,
Still sought the shelter of retiring night,
When Love approach'd, in painted plumes
array'd,

The insidious god his rattling darts betray'd,
Nor less his infant features, and the sly,
Sweet intimations of his threatening eye.
Such the Sigeian boy is seen above,
Filling the goblet for imperial Jove; [charms,
Such he, on whom the nymphs bestow'd their
Hylas, who perish'd in a naiad's arms.
Angry he seem'd, yet graceful in his ire,
And added threats not destitute of fire.

My power." he said, "by others' pain alone, Twere best to learn; now learn it by thy own! With those that feel my power that power attest, And in thy anguish be my sway contest!

I vanquish'd Phoebus, though returning vain
From his new triumph o'er the Python slain,
And, when he thinks on Daphne, even he
Will yield the prize of archery to me.

A dart less true the Parthian horseman sped,
Behind him kill'd, and conquer'd as he fled:
Less true the expert Cydonian, and less true
The youth whose shaft his latent Procris slew.
Vanquish'd by me see huge Orion bend,
By me Alcides. and Alcides' friend.

At me should Jove himself a bolt design,
His bosom first should bleed, transfix'd by mine.
But all thy doubts this shaft will best explain,
Nor shall it reach thee with a trivial pain.

“Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.
Where glens and vales are thickest overgrown
With tangled boughs, I wander now alone,
Till night descend, while blustering wind and
shower

Beat on my temples through the shatter'd bower. "Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.
Alas! what rampant weeds now shame my fields,
And what a mildew'd crop the furrow yields;
My rambling vines unwedded to the trees,
Bear shrivell'd grapes; my myrtles fail to please;
Nor please me more my flocks; they, slighted

turn

Their unavailing looks on me, and mourn. "Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.
Egon invites me to the hazel grove,
Amyntas. on the river's bank to rove,
And young Alphesibous to a seat
Where branching elms exclude the mid-day heat.
'Here fountains spring-here mossy hillocks
rise;

Here zephyr whispers and the stream replies.'-
Thus each persuades, but, deaf to every call,
I gain the thickets, and escape them all.

Go seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts
are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.
Then Mopsus said, (the same who reads so well
The voice of birds and what the stars foretell,
For he by chance had noticed my return.)
What means thy sullen mood, this deep con-
cern?

Ah. Thyrsis, thou art either crazed with love,
Or some sinister influence from above;
Dull Saturn's influence oft the shepherds rue;
His leaden shaft oblique has pierc'd thee through.'
"Go go. my lambs, unpastured as ye are,
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
The nymphs amazed, my melancholy see.
And, Thyrsis!' cry- what will become of thee?
What wouldst thou, Thyrsis? such should not

appear

fate

The brow of youth, stern, gloomy, and severe;
Brisk youth should laugh and love-ah, shun the
[late!'
Of those, twice wretched mopes! who love too
"Go go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Egle with Hyas came, to soothe my pain,
And Baucis' daughter. Dryope, the vain,
Fair Dryope, for voice and finger neat
Known far and near and for her self-conceit;
Chloris too came. whose cottage on the lands
That skirt the Idumanian current stands;
But all in vain they came, and but to see
Kind words, and comfortable, lost on me.

"Go, go my lambs, unpastured as ye are;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Ah blest indifference of the playful herd,
None by his fellow chosen. or preferr'd!
No bonds of amity the flocks inthral,
But each associates, and is p'eased with all;
So graze the dappled deer in numerous droves,
And all his kind alike the zebra loves;

That same law governs where the billows roar, And Proteus' shoals o'erspread the desert shore;

The sparrow, meanest of the feather'd race,
His fit companion finds in every place.
With whom he picks the grain that suits b
best,

Flirts here and there, and late returns to rea
And whom, if chance the falcon makes his pay,
Or hedger with his well aim'd arrow slay.
For no such loss the gay survivor grieves.
New love he seeks and new delight receives
We only, an obdurate kind rejoice.
Scorning all others, in a single choice.
We scarce in thousands meet one kindred mind,
And if the long-sought good at last we find
When least we fear it. Death our treasure steak
And gives our heart a wound that nothing bas
'Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are,
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Ah, what delusion lured me from my flocks,
To traverse Alpine snows and rugged rocks!
What need so great had I to visit Ro.ne,
Now sunk in ruins and herself a tomb?
Or had she flourish'd still, as when of old,
For her sake Tityrus forsook his fold.
What need so great had I to incur a pause
Of thy sweet intercourse for such a cause,
For such a cause to place the roaring sea,
Rocks, mountains, woods, between my friend
and me?

Else had I grasp'd thy feeble hand composed
Thy decent limbs thy drooping eyelids closed.
And, at the last, had said- Farewell-ascend-

Nor even in the skies forget thy friend!

"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare:
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Although well pleased, ye tuneful Tuscan swains!
My mind the memory of your worth retains.
Yet not your worth can teach me less to mourn
My Damon lost.-He too was Tuscan born,
Born in your Lucca, city of renown!

And wit possess'd. and genius, like your own
Oh how elate was 1. when stretch'd beside
The murmuring course of Arno's breezy tale,
Beneath the poplar grove I pass'd my hours.
Now cropping myrtles and now vernal flowers,
And hearing, as I lay at ease along
Your swains contending for the prize of song!
I also dared attempt (and as it seems
Not much displeased attempting) various themes
For even I can presents boast from you,
The shepherd's pipe and ozier basket 100,
And Dati and Francini both have made
My name familiar to the beechen shade
And they are learn'd, and each in every place
Renown'd for song, and both of Lydian race.

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Go go my lambs, untended homeward fare; My thoughts are all now due to other care. While bright the dewy grass with moonbeams shone.

And I stood hurdling in my kids alone,

How often have I said (but thou hadst found
Ere then thy dark cold lodgment underground)
Now Damon sings or springes sets for hares,
Or wickerwork for various use prepares!
How oft, indulging fancy, have I plann'd
New scenes of pleasure that I hoped at hand,
Call'd thee abroad as I was wont, and cried —
What, hoa! my friend-come lay thy task

aside;

Haste, let us forth together, and beguile
The heat beneath yon whispering shades awhile.
Or on the margin stray of Colne's clear flood,
Or where Cassibclan's grey turrets stood!

There thou shalt cull me simples, and shalt teach
Thy friend the name and healing powers of each,
From the tall bluebell to the dwarfish weed,
What the dry land and what the marshes breed,
For all their kinds alike to thee are known,
And the whole art of Galen is thy own.'
Ah perish Gal n's art, and wither'd be
The useless herbs that gave not health to thee!
Twelve evenings since, as in poetic dream,
I meditating sat some statelier theme,

The reeds no sooner touch'd my lip though new.
And unessay'd before, than wide they flew,
Bursting their waxen bands, nor could sustain
The deep-toned music of the solemn strain;
And I am vain perhaps, but I will tell
How proud a theme I chose-ye groves, farewell.
Go go my lambs untended homeward fare;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Of Brutus Dardan chief, my song shall be,
How with his barks he plough'd the British sea,
First from Rutupia's towering headland seen,
And of his consort's reign, fair Imogen;
Of Brennus and Belinus brothers bold,
And of Arviragus and how of old
Our hardy sires the Armorican controll'd,
And of the wife of Gorlois, who, surprised
By Uther, in her husband's form disguised,
(Such was the force of Merlin's art,) became
Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame.

These themes I now revolve-and Oh-if Fate
Proportion to these themes my lengthen'd date.
Adieu my shepherd's reed-yon pine tree bough
Shall be thy future home, there dangle thou
Forgotten and disused, unless ere long
Thou change thy Latin for a British song:
A British ?-even so-the powers of man
Are bounded; little is the most he can;
And it shall well suffice me, and shall be
Fame and proud recompense enough for me,
If Usa, golden-hair'd, my verse may learn,
If Alain bending o'er his crystal urn,
Swift-whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadow'd
stream,

Thames lovelier far than all in my esteem,
Tamar's ore-tinctured flood, and, after these,
The wave-worn shores of utmost Orcades.

"Go go my lanibs untended homeward fare;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
All this I kept in leaves of laurel rind
Enfolded safe, and for thy view design'd,
This-and a gift from Manso's hand beside,
(Manso, not least his native city's pride.)
Two cups that radiant as their giver shown,
Adorn'd by sculpture with a double zone.
The spring was graven there; here slowly wind
The Red sea shores with groves of spices lined;
Her plumes of various hues amid the boughs
The sacred solitary phoenix shows,

And watchful of the dawn, reverts her head
To see Aurora leave her watery bed.
-In other part the expansive vault above,
And there too, even there the god of love;
With quiver arm'd he mounts. his torch displays
A vivid light his gem-tipt arrows blaze.
Around his bright and fiery eyes he rolls,
Nor aims at vulgar minds or little souls,
Nor deigns one look below, but, aiming high,
Sends every arrow to the lofty sky;
Hence forms divine, and minds immortal, learn
The power of Cupid and enamour'd burn.
"Thou, also Damon (neither need I fear
That hope delusive,) thou art also there;

For whither should simplicity like thine
Retire, where else should spotless virtue shine?
Thou dwell'st not (thought profane) in shades
below,

Nor tears suit thee-cease then, my tears, to flow.

Away with grief; on Damon ill bestow'd!
Who, pure himself has found a pure abode,
Has pass'd the showery arch henceforth resides
With saints and heroes, and from flowing tides
Quaffs copious immortality and joy
With hallow'd lips!-Oh! blest without alloy,
And now enrich'd with all that faith can claim,
Look down, entreated by whatever name,
If Damon please thee most (that rural sound
Shall oft with echoes fill the groves around)
Or if Deodatus, by which alone

In those ethereal mansions thou art known.
Thy blush was maiden, and thy youth the taste
Of wedded bliss knew never pure and chaste,
The honors, therefore, by divine decree
The lot of virgin worth are given to thee:
Thy brows encircled with a radiant band,
And the green palm branch waving in thy hand,
Thou in immortal nuptials shalt rejoice,
And join with seraphs thy according voice,
Where rapture reigns, and the ecstatic lyre
Guides the blest orgies of the blazing quire."

AN ODE ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN ROUSE,

LIBRARIAN OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD,

On a lost Volume of my Poems, which he desired me to replace, that he might add them to my other Works deposited in the Library.

This ode is rendered without rhyme, that it might more adequately represent the original, which, as Milton himself informs us, is of no certain Measure. It may possibly for this reason disappoint the reader, though it cost the writer more labor than the translation of any other piece in the whole collection.

STROPIE.

My twofold book! single in show But double in contents, Neat but not curiously adorn'd, Which, in his early youth, A poet gave, no lofty one in truth, Although an earnest wooer of the museSay, while in cool Ausonian shades Or British wilds he roam'd, Striking by turns his native lyre, By turns the Daunian lute, And stepp'd almost in air

ANTISTROPHE.

Say, little book, what furtive hand
Thee from thy fellow books convey'd,
What time, at the repeated suit
Of my most learned friend,

I sent thee forth an honor'd traveller,
From our great city to the source of Thames,
Cerulean sire!

Where rise the fountains and the raptures ring,
Of the Aonian choir.

Durable as yonder spheres,

And through the endless lapse of years
Secure to be admired?

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And whence the coarse unletter'd multitude Shall babble far remote.

Perhaps some future distant age,

Less tinged with prejudice. and better taught, Shall furnish minds of power

To judge more equally.

Then, malice silenced in the tomb, Cooler heads and sounder hearts, Thanks to Rouse, if aught of praise I merit, shall with candor weigh the claim.

TRANSLATIONS OF THE ITALIAN POEYS.

SONNET.

FAIR Lady! whose harmonious name the Rhine, Through all his grassy vale. delights to hear Base were indeed the wretch who could forbear To love a spirit clegant as thine.

That manifests a sweetness all divine,

Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare, And graces. which Love's bow and arrows are, Tempering thy virtues to a softer shine. When gracefully thou speak'st or singest gay

Such strains as might the senseless forest move, Ah then-turn each his eyes and ears away, Who feels himself unworthy of thy love! Grace can alone preserve him ere the dart Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart.

SONNET.

As on a hill-top rude, when closing day
Imbrowns the scene. some pastoral maiden far
Waters a lovely foreign plant with care,
Borne from its native genial airs away,
That scarcely can its tender bud display,

So, on my tongue these accents, new and rare, Are flowers exotic, which Love waters there. While thus. O sweetly scornful! I essay

Thy praise in verse to British ears unknown, And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain; So love has will'd, and ofttimes Love has shown

That what he wills, he never wills in vainOh that this hard and sterile breast might be To Him, who plants from heaven, a soil as free!

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SONNET, TO CHARLES DEODATI. CHARLES and I say it wondering-thou must know

That I who once assumed a scornful air
And scoff'd at Love am fallen in his snare,
(Full many an upright man has fallen so:)
Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow
Of golden locks or damask cheek; more rare
The heartfelt beauties of my foreign fair;
A mien majestic. with dark brows that show
The tranquil lustre of a loty mind;
Words exquisite, of idioms more than one,
And song whose fascinating power might bind,
And from her sphere draw down the laboring

moon;

With such fire-darting eyes that. should I fill
My ears with wax, she would enchant me still.

SONNET.

LADY! It cannot be but that thine eyes

Must be my sun such radiance they display, And strike me e'en as Phoebus him whose way Through horrid Libya's sandy desert lies. Meantime, on that side steamy vapors rise

SONNET.

ENAMOR'D, artless. young, on foreign ground,
Uncertain whither from myself to fly;
To thee, dear Lady with an humble sigh
Let me devote my heart, which I have found
By certain proofs not few. intrepid sound,

Good, and addicted to conceptions high: [sky,
When tempests shake the world, and fire the
It rests in adamant self-wrapt around.
As safe from envy as from outrage rude,
From hopes and fears that vulgar minds abuse,
As fond of genius, and fix'd fortitude,
Of the resounding lyre and every muse.
Weak you will find it in one only part,
Now pierced by love's immedicable dart.

SIMILE IN PARADISE LOST.

'So when, from mountain tops, the dusky clouds
Ascending,' &c.

QUALES aërii montis de vertice nubes
Cum surgunt, et jam Boreæ tumida ora quiêrunt,
Coelum hilares abdit, spissâ caligine vultus:
Tum si jucundo tandem sol prodeat ore.
Et croceo montes et pascua lumine tingat,
Gaudent omnia aves mulcent concentibus agros
Balatuque ovium colles vallesque resultant.

Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they, TRANSLATION OF DRYDEN'S EPIGRAM

New as to me they are, I cannot say,
But deem them in the lover's language-sighs.
Some though with pain my bosom close conceals,
Which if in part escaping thence, they tend
To soften thine, thy coldness soon congeals.
While others to my tearful eyes ascend,
Whence my sad nights in showers are ever
drown'd,

Till my Aurora comes, her brow with roses bound,

ON MILTON.

TRES tria, sed longè distantia sæcula vates

Ostentant tribus è gentibus exinios.
Græcia sublimein. cum majestate disertum

Roma tulit felix Anglia utrique pire.
Partubus ex binis Natura exhausta, coacta est,
Tertius ut fieret, consociare duos.
July, 1780.

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