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 LIBRARY of XIN'iHtSs] 
 
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 COPY B. 
 
 
 Copyright, ipof 
 by Thomas T. Crowe// &f Co. 
 
THE LATIN POETS 
 
 AN ANTHOLOGY 
 
 BY 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE 
 
 Quandoque licebit 
 Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno et inertibus horis, 
 Ducere sollicitae iucunda oblivia vitae ? 
 
 Horace : Sat. 2, vi, 60. 
 
 «fa 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1905, 
 
 By THOMAS T. CROWELL & CO. 
 
«1 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction xi 
 
 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS 1 
 
 The Birth of Hercules 2 
 
 . The Braggart and the Parasite 6 
 
 A Roman Gentleman 9 
 
 QUINTUS ENNIUS 15 
 
 The Roman Tribune in Battle 15 
 
 Soothsayers 16 
 
 Are there Gods ? 16 
 
 Evening Calm 16 
 
 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AEER 17 
 
 A Plea for Borrowed Plots 19 
 
 Originality in Revamping 20 
 
 A Model Son 21 
 
 A Happy Reconciliation .26 
 
 The Parasite and the Boastful Captain .... 31 
 
 Sympathy 34 
 
 Happiness 34 
 
 Wives and Mistresses 34 
 
 Women 35 
 
 No Hope ; No Disappointment . . . . .35 
 
 The Ills of being in Love 36 
 
 The Contradictions of Life 36 
 
 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS 38 
 
 On Life and Death . .38 
 
 Address to Venus ........ 50 
 
 Freedom of Thought 51 
 
 The Torch of Existence 53 
 
 iii 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS 57 
 
 The History of a Passion 58 
 
 I. Address to Lesbia 58 
 
 II. A Comparison 59 
 
 III. Lesbia obdurate 59 
 
 IV. Love accepted 60 
 
 V. To Lesbia' s Sparrow . . . . .61 
 
 VI. On the Death of Lesbia's Sparrow . . 62 
 
 VII. A Reminiscence 62 
 
 VIII. Live and Love 63 
 
 IX. Unnumbered Kisses 64 
 
 X. To Beautiful Eyes 64 
 
 XL A Poet's Supper 64 
 
 XII. A Reflex Compliment 65 
 
 XIII. After a Quarrel 65 
 
 XIV. Refuting a Slander 66 
 
 XV. Love detected 66 
 
 XVI. Additional Proofs 67 
 
 XVII. Reconciliation 67 
 
 XVIII. A Perpetual Vow 68 
 
 XIX. On Woman's Inconstancy .... 68 
 
 XX. Love in Ruins 68 
 
 XXI. Love Ill-requited 69 
 
 XXII. The Last Agony 69 
 
 XXIII. Renunciation 69 
 
 XXIV. His Last Farewell to Lesbia ... 70 
 
 A Fib detected 71 
 
 Adieu to Bithynia 72 
 
 A Welcome Home 72 
 
 To the Island of Sirmio 73 
 
 To his Pinnace 73 
 
 On the Death of his Brother Hortalus .... 74 
 
 On the Burial of his Brother 75 
 
 Hymn to Diana 76 
 
 The Wedding Song of Vinia and Manlius ... 76 
 
 Invocation to Hymen 76 
 
 The Hymeneal Hymn 78 
 
 Waiting for the Bride 79 
 
 The Procession 81 
 
 The Wedding Supper 82 
 
CONTENTS. v 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Pictures 83 
 
 The Marriage 83 
 
 The Wedding Coverlet 85 
 
 Medea's Lament 88 
 
 The Death of ^Egeus 00 
 
 Embroidery of the Coverlet 92 
 
 The Divine Guests 93 
 
 Spinning-song of the Fates 95 
 
 The Twilight of the Gods 98 
 
 Nuptial Song 99 
 
 On the Death of a Beautiful Friend . . . .102 
 
 Pleasant Recollections 102 
 
 On a Roman 'Arry 102 
 
 To Cicero 103 
 
 To a Little Orator 103 
 
 A Dedication 103 
 
 LABERIUS 105 
 
 Prologue 105 
 
 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO . . . . . .107 
 
 The Bucolics 108 
 
 Eclogue I 108 
 
 Eclogue II Ill 
 
 Eclogue in 113 
 
 Eclogue IV 116 
 
 Eclogue V 118 
 
 Eclogue VI 120 
 
 Eclogue VII 122 
 
 Eclogue VIII 124 
 
 Eclogue IX 128 
 
 Eclogue X 130 
 
 Harvest Storms 132 
 
 Praises of a Country Life 133 
 
 Caution against Snakes 135 
 
 The Dead Ox 136 
 
 The Arrival of JEneas at Carthage 136 
 
 The Funeral Games for Anchises 145 
 
 The Ship Race 148 
 
 The Foot Race 156 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Sparring Contest 158 
 
 The Contest with the Bow 163 
 
 Display of the Cavaliers 166 
 
 The Burning of the Ships 168 
 
 The Death of Palinurus 172 
 
 The Arrival in Italy ....... 174 
 
 The Descent to Avernus 180 
 
 The River of Acheron 183 
 
 The Crossing of the Styx 184 
 
 The Realms of the Dead 186 
 
 The Heroes of Troy 188 
 
 The Horrors of Tartarus 193 
 
 The Realm of the Blest 195 
 
 The Heroes of Rome 201 
 
 MANILIUS 208 
 
 The Milky Way 208 
 
 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS 209 
 
 Civil War 211 
 
 To Augustus Csesar 211 
 
 To the Ship bearing Vergil to Athens .... 213 
 
 To Lucius Sestius 214 
 
 ToPyrrha 216 
 
 To Lydia 217 
 
 To the Thaliarch 218 
 
 To the Spring of Bandusia 219 
 
 The Ship of State 220 
 
 The Prophecy of Nereus 220 
 
 The Recantation 222 
 
 ToTyndaris 223 
 
 ToChloe 223 
 
 A Prayer 224 
 
 To Albius Tibullus 225 
 
 To Himself 226 
 
 To Fortune . . 227 
 
 To Crispus Sallustius Crispus 228 
 
 To Quintus Dellius 229 
 
 To Xanthias Phoceus 230 
 
 The Mean 231 
 
CONTENTS. vn 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ToPostumus 232 
 
 ToDellius 234 
 
 Love renewed 237 
 
 ToNeobule 238 
 
 To the Fountain Bandusia 238 
 
 To Maecenas 239 
 
 Against Avarice and Luxury 240 
 
 To Diana 242 
 
 To Melpomene 242 
 
 ToTorquatus 243 
 
 To Censorinus 244 
 
 To Marcus Lollius 245 
 
 The Secular Ode 246 
 
 Town Life and Country Life 249 
 
 ALBIUS TIBULLUS 254 
 
 A Pastoral Elegy 255 
 
 Elegy to Delia 258 
 
 SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS . . . .260 
 
 A Festival Day 261 
 
 Captured by Cupids 262 
 
 Love the Winged Archer 263 
 
 ToTullus 264 
 
 Cynthia dancing 265 
 
 Inspiration to Song 265 
 
 Beauty Unadorned . 266 
 
 Love's Shipwreck 267 
 
 A Hint of Jealousy 268 
 
 Love's Farewell 269 
 
 Cornelia 269 
 
 Love and Science 270 
 
 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO 272 
 
 The Creation 274 
 
 Patience and Tact 276 
 
 The Remedy for Hopeless Love 278 
 
 A Poet's Fame 279 
 
 A Captive of Love 280 
 
 On the Death of Corinna's Parrot 281 
 
Viii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Ring 283 
 
 Elegy on the Death of Tibullus . . . . .283 
 
 The Sun-god's Palace 286 
 
 Impertinence punished 286 
 
 Orpheus in Hades 287 
 
 The Giants' War 288 
 
 The Transformation of Daphne into a Laurel . . . 298 
 
 Baucis and Philemon 302 
 
 JEsacus transformed into a Cormorant .... 306 
 
 To Maximus 308 
 
 Ovid's December Voyage to Exile 309 
 
 Compliance 310 
 
 Music and Poetry 311 
 
 Consolation in Verse 312 
 
 Danger of Happiness 313 
 
 MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS 314 
 
 To a Boaster 315 
 
 A Happy Life 315 
 
 To a Fop 316 
 
 Evil Times 316 
 
 Likeness and Unlikeness 317 
 
 Shopping in Ancient Days 317 
 
 Fear of Death 318 
 
 j Hasta Mafiana ! 318 
 
 A Contradiction 318 
 
 Compensation 318 
 
 A Hinted Wish 319 
 
 Honest Poverty 320 
 
 The Epigram .320 
 
 To an Heirless Miser 320 
 
 A Paradox 320 
 
 To a Man who had buried his Seventh Wife . . .321 
 
 On a Quarrelling Couple 321 
 
 A Credit Coat 321 
 
 The Poverty of Poetry 321 
 
 LUCIUS ANNJEUS SENECA 322 
 
 October . . . 323 
 
 The Three Fates 323 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Mock Dirge on the Emperor Claudius .... 326 
 
 Chorus 327 
 
 Hymn to Bacchus ........ 329 
 
 The Rule of Fate 331 
 
 PUBLIUS PAPINIUS STATIUS 332 
 
 To Sleep 333 
 
 An Army perishing of Thirst finds Water . . . 334 
 
 The Triumph of Hippomedon 336 
 
 The Might of the Fury 338 
 
 DECIMUS JUNIUS JUVENALIS 340 
 
 The Emptiness of Ambition 340 
 
 Incitement to Satire • . 342 
 
 Corruption Rampant in Rome 345 
 
 A Country Retreat 347 
 
 Life's Real Good 348 
 
 MARCUS ANNJEUS LUCANUS 350 
 
 Pompey and Caesar 351 
 
 Forebodings of War 354 
 
 The Astrologer's Prediction 356 
 
 Pompey's Dream 357 
 
 Caesar's Speech before Pharsalia 359 
 
 Pompey's Speech before Pharsalia 361 
 
 Cato at the Oracle of Ammon 362 
 
 Cleopatra's Palace ' . . 363 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It may be roughly stated that classic Koman literature 
 begins where classic Greek literature ended — with the 
 Drama. Yet this is only accidental and means little. 
 Plautus and Terence translated or imitated the plays of 
 Menander, Philemon, and other masters of the so-called 
 new comedy ; and the four great Greek dramatists who 
 bring an era to a close scarcely influenced the Soman 
 stage at all. Eoman epic and Eoman lyric alike copy 
 form and thought from the poets of Hellas. It is a com- 
 mon-place of criticism to declare that the Latins showed 
 no originality in literature or art. But a great nation 
 must needs express its individuality ; this shines through 
 imitation. Plautus and Terence in translating their 
 Greek originals made Roman plays of them ; the dramatis 
 personce, drest in Athenian costumes, performing their 
 parts in Athenian streets, nevertheless were recognized 
 as Eomans, uttering Eoman sentiments. The whole 
 theatre burst into spontaneous applause at the senti- 
 ment, "I am a man; naught that touches humanity is 
 alien to me." The famous passage which so touched the 
 heart of Octavia, on the death of the young Marcellus, 
 has also touched the heart of humanity, though the visit 
 of iEneas to the unseen realms was undoubtedly copied 
 from the visit of Odysseus to Hades. The scholar may 
 detect the source of Horace's metres ; but Horace has 
 never lost and never will lose his place in the affec- 
 tions of lovers of poetry. In fact, too much stress is laid 
 upon originality in our day. Plagiarism is the most 
 venial of vices. Mankind was furnished at the begin- 
 ning with a limited stock of ideas ; the greatest of poets 
 cannot find a new rime for love. If the Eomans prided 
 themselves on being descended from the companions of 
 iEneas, if the Eoman poets never worked themselves 
 free from the influence of Greece, they certainly created 
 
xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a literature that satisfied their own wants and has 
 been a delight to the civilized world for two thousand 
 years. Who cares that Jupiter Tonans hurls the light- 
 ning of Zeus the cloud-compeller ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Whether deservedly or not, the Latin language has 
 been familiar to vastly more men and women than has 
 the Greek. Until within a comparatively short time it 
 was the language of polite and diplomatic communication 
 among scholars and nations. Poland and Rome were thus 
 united, while Russia stood aloof from Europe. It is in- 
 deed a wonderful language. What other unless Russian, — 
 which with its difficult alphabet and its sibilant syllables 
 is nevertheless a wonderfully satisfactory medium of 
 thought — can equal the Latin for conciseness, for accuracy 
 of thought, for apt symmetry of expression, for delicacy 
 of harmony, for grace of rhythm? What sonorous ful- 
 ness of vowels, what strength of varying consonant, how 
 musical, even when pronounced after the barbarous old 
 habit of giving the vowels the English sound! One 
 may prefer Greek ; but the fact remains that Latin is 
 far nearer to us and is acquired with much less effort. 
 Our English tongue looks back to Latin as its mother. 
 
 It is a quite common accomplishment among English 
 and European scholars to be able to turn a Latin verse. 
 Gladstone and many other English statesmen have pub- 
 lished their Latin translations. The speeches of the 
 great orators of modern times are studded with citations 
 from Vergil and Horace and Ovid. Most of the great 
 poets of the English-speaking race have taken pride in 
 rendering into English verse their favourite selections from 
 the poets of Rome. It may be safely said that practically 
 all of classic literature exists in the vernacular. With 
 the exception of Vergil and Horace, however, the Roman 
 poets have not fared so well as have the Greek poets at 
 the hands of translators. There are no complete metrical 
 translations of Plautus and Terence later than the begin- 
 ning of the last century. Many charming passages from 
 Ovid and Lucretius must be presented in the stiff iambics 
 of the Pope and Dry den school, where the fair woman 
 appears as a " nymph," water always comes in the form 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 of a " wave " or a " tide " even though it pour from a 
 pitcher ; eyes are stilted into " orbs " and echoes always 
 " rebound " the sound. 
 
 Some of the old translations, especially when given 
 in their quaint spelling and capitalization, are rather 
 effective. Marlowe, as might be expected from his rich- 
 ness of diction, turned Ovid's elegies into clever English 
 verse. Marlowe was a poet ; not so much can be said of 
 Sir Richard Burton, whose version of Catullus, however 
 literal, is often amusing from its hopeless floundering. 
 It is unfortunate that scholarship is so rarely found in 
 combination with true poetic sense and technique. In 
 this respect, Horace has suffered severely; at the same 
 time no other poet of antiquity has had so many devotees 
 of first-class ability from Milton to Austin Dobson. One 
 could probably present a different translator for every 
 one of his songs. He more than any other tempts to 
 skill. How, then, shall he be translated : quantitatively 
 or in the varying rhythms of modern verse ? Milton's 
 attempt at reproducing the metre of the original of the 
 " Pyrrha " ode cannot be said to be very successful, as 
 far as English poetry is concerned ; nor did Lord Lytton 
 succeed much better. On the other hand, the rondeaux 
 and villanelles into which Mr. Dobson has so deftly 
 transformed them are somewhat alien to English verse 
 and hardly dignified enough for Horace, who, in spite 
 of his gay epicureanism, was nevertheless a Roman and 
 conscious of his state as such. 
 
 Virgil, or Vergil, as modern scholars have deemed it 
 right to spell his name, has fared remarkably well. Our 
 day cares little for the painfully prim and proper couplets 
 of Dryden with their tiresome iteration of faulty rimes 
 or obvious ones ; in blank verse, careful and accurate, there 
 are many excellently literal versions ; Conington has put 
 the whole " yEneid" into the swift easy form made popu- 
 lar by Sir Walter Scott. William Morris dragged out 
 the lines into a sort of mediaeval diction which some like 
 and some detest. The translation of Baron Bowen into 
 hexameters ending in rimed masculine syllables marks a 
 very great advance in the problem of a satisfactory form 
 of representing the original. The flexibility of his lines 
 is remarkable. The most successful attempt to represent 
 the " iEneid " in dactylic hexameters is that published in 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 1902 by Mr. Harlan Hoge Ballard, the founder of the 
 Agassiz Association. Mr. Ballard's version follows the 
 original line for line and shows a marvellous skill in 
 adaptation; in fact, the lines read as spontaneously as 
 do more obvious forms of English verse. Through Mr. 
 Ballard's courtesy, a large part of the Sixth Book has 
 been placed in close proximity with the selection from 
 Lord Bowen's version, forming a most interesting study 
 in comparison. The cleverest translations from Martial 
 accompany an article by Miss Harriet W. Preston in the 
 " Library of the World's Best Literature." Although a 
 fifth part, at least, of Martial's satiric epigrams are unfit 
 for English readers, the remaining parts are full of keen 
 wit and throw a bright light on Roman manners and 
 customs. 
 
 The Latins showed more originality in their satires than 
 in their dramas or epics. This form of poetry grew up 
 out of the so-called Fescennine and Saturnine verses, which 
 were often improvised, and were characterized by jocose 
 and rough humour, attacking vices and those that practised 
 vices. Fescennia was in Etruria, and the rivalries in pro- 
 ducing these poems gave a great impetus to the spirit 
 of satire. Even Augustus the Emperor did not scorn to 
 make them. When he directed one against the poet 
 Pollio, Pollio refrained from replying. The Emperor 
 asked him why. His answer was a pun which cannot 
 be reproduced in English : " It were better not to write 
 against one who might proscribe." The satiric spirit 
 is discoverable in the extant plays ; it grows clearer and 
 keener and culminates in Juvenal. 
 
 Early Latin literature, indigenous to the soil, is entirely 
 lacking. It is known that there were historic ballads, prob- 
 ably written in a rough and inartistic style. Macaulay, in 
 his " Lays of Ancient Rome," tried to give English readers 
 an idea of what they might have been. Livius Adronicus 
 is the first, but only a name, who emerges from the dark- 
 ness of Italian antiquity ; even he was a Greek, and the 
 titles of his fourteen plays — comedies and tragedies — 
 show that they were either translated or imitated from 
 the writers of his native land. He also wrote a sort of epic 
 poem on the fortunes of Ulysses in the ancient Saturnine 
 metre. All his works are lost. Cnseus Nsevius was another 
 of the ancient Roman poets, known only through titles or 
 
INTRODUCTION. xv 
 
 meagre fragments. It is certain that he exercised con- 
 siderable influence on his successors, particularly Ennius 
 and Vergil. He wrote an epic on the first Punic War 
 and several of the episodes — relating to iEneas's visit to 
 Carthage and his love affair with Dido — were reproduced 
 in the " iEneid." He also wrote comedies and tragedies. 
 His first play was produced in 235 b.c. He used the 
 license of the Aristophanaic comedy to attack public 
 characters and was first imprisoned and then banished. 
 
 Ennius is believed to have introduced the hexameter ; 
 he is represented only in incomplete fragments. There 
 are other names which are only names. So that practi- 
 cally Roman literature, as known to us at the present 
 time, begins with Plautus and Terence. The present 
 collection of translations begins with Plautus and ends 
 with Lucan. It presents generous selections from all the 
 greatest poets of Rome. A few later writers might have 
 been added, but it has seemed expedient to give larger 
 selections to the classic writers rather than multiply and 
 thus divide. It gives a faithful notion of the richness of 
 the legacy which Old Rome bequeathed to mankind. 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. 
 
THE LATIN POETS. 
 
 5SK< 
 
 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 Plautus, the earliest and by many considered the 
 greatest of the Roman comedy writers, was born about 
 the middle of the third century before Christ in an ob- 
 scure village of Umbria near the head-waters of the 
 Sapis (now the Savio) River under the shadow of the 
 Apennines. He somehow managed to pick up a thorough 
 knowledge of Greek; but when he arrived at Rome, 
 he was in such straitened circumstances that he served 
 as a menial for the actors. The money that he thus 
 earned he put into some commercial undertaking which 
 proved disastrous. He obtained work in turning a hand- 
 mill for a baker. While thus employed he composed two 
 or three of his earliest plays, and from this time — 224 
 B.C. — he enjoyed uninterrupted popularity for forty years. 
 He copied the Greek comedies of Menander, who had 
 died about thirty-seven years before he was born, and 
 other writers of the Middle Comedy, depicting the scenes 
 of everyday life, but though the characters were Greek, 
 and the scenes laid in Athens, the colouring was local, and 
 the action, speech, and allusions were comprehensible to 
 the Romans. It was said of him by several Roman 
 authors that the Muses would use the language of Plautus 
 were they to speak Latin. Although he sometimes in- 
 troduces archaic expressions, still Aulus Gellius praises 
 him as " the chief in elegance " among those that write 
 the Latin tongue. He evidently realized his own impor- 
 tance if the epitaph which has come down to us is 
 genuine : — 
 
 " Postquam est mortem aptus Plautus, commoedia luget 
 scena deserta, dein risus ludus iocusque 
 et numeri innumeri simul omnes collacrumarunt ; " 
 1 
 
2 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 which has been thus translated : — 
 
 41 Wit, Laughter, Jests, and all the train that use 
 To adorn the scene and grace the Comic Muse, 
 Forsook the stage, at Plautus' death to mourn, 
 And Harmony, undone, sat weeping o'er his urn." 
 
 Plautus died in 184 b.c, leaving to the Eoman stage 
 a legacy of plays which with counterfeits amounted to 
 one hundred and thirty in number. Varro, the most 
 learned and voluminous of the Roman writers, critically 
 examined these comedies, and came to the conclusion that 
 only twenty-one of them were genuine. All but one of 
 these have come down to our day, though some of them 
 are badly mutilated and corrupted. Moliere, Dryden> 
 Regnard, Addison, Shakespeare, and many other modern 
 playwrights have imitated many passages and whole 
 scenes or situations from these ancient dramas. 
 
 THE BIRTH OF HERCULES. 
 "Amphitryon." 
 
 Amphitryon [alone]. What shall I do, abandoned by 
 my friends, 
 And now without an advocate to help me ? — 
 Yet shall he ne'er abuse me unrevenged, 
 Whoe'er he is ! — I '11 straight unto the king, 
 And lay the whole before him. — I '11 have vengeance 
 On this damned sorcerer, who has strangely turned 
 The minds of all our family. — But where is he ? — 
 I doubt not but he 's gone in to my wife ! — 
 Lives there in Thebes a greater wretch than I ? — 
 What shall I do now, since all men deny me, 
 And fool me at their pleasure ? — 'Tis resolved: 
 I '11 burst into the house and whomsoever 
 I set my eyes on, servant, male or female, 
 Wife or gallant, father or grandfather, 
 I '11 cut them into pieces : — Nor shall Jove 
 Nor all the gods prevent it, if they would, 
 But I will do what I 've resolved. — I '11 in ! 
 
 \_As he advances toward the door, it thunders and he 
 falls down. Thunder and lightning. 
 
THE BIRTH OF HERCULES. 3 
 
 Enter Bromia, Alcmena's maid. 
 
 Bromia. I have no means of safety left ; my hopes 
 Lie in my breast extinct and buried ; I 
 Have lost all confidence of heart and spirit, 
 Since all things seem combined, sea, earth, and heaven, 
 To oppress and to destroy me. — I am wretched ! — 
 I know not what to do ; for prodigies 
 Have been displayed within. — Ah, woe is me ! 
 I 'm sick at heart now, — would I had some water, — 
 I faint, my head aches ! I don't hear, nor see 
 Well with my eyes. — Ah me ! no woman sure 
 Was e'er so wretched, an event so strange 
 Has happened to my mistress. — When she found 
 Herself in labour, she invoked the gods : — 
 Then what a rumbling, grumbling, flashing, clashing 
 Straightway ensued ! Suddenly how quick, 
 How terribly it thundered ! All that stood 
 Pell flat down at the noise : and then we heard 
 Some one, I know not who, with mighty voice 
 Cry out, " Alcmena, succour is at hand : 
 Be not dismayed ; the heaven's high ruler comes 
 To you propitious and to yours ! Arise, 
 (Says he) ye who have fallen through the terror 
 And dread of me." — I rose from where I lay, 
 And such a brightness streamed throughout the house, 
 Methought it was in flames. Then presently 
 Alcmena called and this afflicted me 
 With horror, for I feared much more for her 
 Than for myself : I ran to her in haste, 
 To know what she might want, and (bless my eyes !) 
 Saw she had been delivered of two boys 
 Nor any of us knew or did suspect 
 When she was thus delivered. — But what 's this ? 
 Who is this old man, stretcht before our house ? 
 Has he been thunder-stricken ? I believe so : 
 For he is laid out as if dead ; I '11 go 
 And learn who 't is. [Advancing to Amphitryon.] 'T is 
 
 certainly Amphitryon, 
 My master. — Ho, Amphitryon. 
 
 Amphitryon. I am dead. 
 
 Bromia. Come, rise, sir. 
 
 Amphitryon. I 'ni quite dead. 
 
4 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 Bromia. Give me your hand. 
 
 Amphitryon [recovering]. Who is it holds me ? 
 
 Bromia. I, your maid, sir, Bromia. 
 
 Amphitryon. I tremble in every joint, with such amaze 
 Has Jupiter appalled me. And I seem 
 As though I were just risen from the dead. 
 But wherefore came you forth ? 
 
 Bromia. The same dread fear 
 
 Filled us poor souls with horror. I have seen, 
 Ah me ! such wondrous prodigies within 
 I scarce am in my senses. 
 
 Amphitryon. Prithee tell me 
 
 D' ye know me for your master, for Amphitryon? 
 
 Bromia. Yes, surely. 
 
 Amphitryon. Look again now ! 
 
 Bromia. I well know you. 
 
 Amphitryon. She is the only person of our family 
 That is not mad. 
 
 Bromia. Nay verily they all 
 
 Are in their perfect senses. 
 
 Amphitryon. But my wife 
 
 By her foul deeds has driven me to distraction. 
 
 Bromia. But I shall make you change your language, sir, 
 And own your wife a chaste one : on which point 
 I will convince you in few words. Know first, 
 Alcmena is delivered of two boys. 
 
 Amphitryon. How say you, two ? 
 
 Bromia. Yes, two. 
 
 Amphitryon. The gods preserve me ! 
 
 Bromia. Permit me to go on, that you may know 
 How all the gods to you are most propitious 
 And to your wife. 
 
 Amphitryon. Speak ! 
 
 Bromia. When your spouse began 
 
 To be in labour and the wonted pangs 
 Of child-birth came upon her, she invoked 
 The immortal gods to aid her, with washt hands 
 And covered head ; then presently it thundered, 
 And with a crack so loud, we thought at first 
 The house itself was tumbling, and it shone 
 As bright throughout, as if it were of gold. 
 
 Amphitryon. Prithee, relieve me quickly, since you have 
 Perplexed me full enough. — What followed after ? 
 
THE BIRTH OF HERCULES. 5 
 
 Bromia. Meantime, while this was done, not one of us 
 Or heard your wife once groan or once complain. 
 She was delivered even without a pang. 
 
 Amphitryon. That joys me, I confess, however little 
 She merits at my hands. 
 
 Bromia. Leave that, and hear 
 
 What more I have to say. After delivery 
 She bade us wash the boys : we set about it 
 But he that I washt, oh, how sturdy is he ! 
 So strong and stout withal, not one of us 
 Could bind him in his swaddling clothes. 
 
 Amphitryon. 'T is wondrous 
 
 What you relate : if your account be true, 
 I doubt not but Alcmena has been favoured 
 With large assistance and support from heaven. 
 
 Bromia. You '11 say what follows is more wondrous still 
 After the boy was in his cradle laid, 
 Two monstrous serpents with high-lifted crests 
 Slid down the sky-light : in an instant both 
 Reared up their heads. 
 
 Amphitryon. Ah me ! 
 
 Bromia. Be not dismayed. 
 
 The serpents cast their eyes around on all, 
 And after they had spied the children out, 
 With quickest motion made toward the cradle. 
 I, fearing for the boys and for myself, 
 Drew back the cradle, stirred it to and fro, 
 Backwards and forwards, on one side and t' other : 
 The more I workt it by so much the more 
 These serpents fierce pursued. That other boy 
 Soon as he spied the monsters, in an instant 
 Leaps him from out the cradle, straight darts at them, 
 And suddenly he seizes upon both, 
 In each hand grasping one. 
 
 Amphitryon. The tale you tell 
 
 Is fraught with many wonders and the deed 
 That you relate is all too terrible ; 
 For horror at your words creeps through my limbs ! — 
 What happened next ? Proceed now in your story. 
 
 Bromia. The child killed both the serpents. During 
 this 
 A loud voice calls upon your wife — 
 
 Amphitryon. Who calls ? 
 
6 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 Bromia. Jove, supreme sovereign of gods and men 
 He owned that he had secretly enjoyed 
 Alemena, that the boy who slew the serpents 
 Was his ; the other he declared was yours. 
 
 Amphitryon. I now repent me an it pleases him 
 To share a part with Jove in any good. 
 
 — Translation o/Bonnell Thornton. 
 
 THE BRAGGART AND THE PARASITE. 
 
 "Miles Gloriosus." 
 
 Pyrgopolinices [to his soldier]. See that the splendour 
 of my shield outshine 
 The sun's bright radiance, when the heavens are fair, 
 That when we join in battle, it may dazzle 
 The enemies' eyes throughout their thickest ranks. 
 Eain would I comfort this good sword of mine 
 Lest he despond in spirit or lament 
 For that I wear him unemployed, who longs 
 To make a carbonado of the foes. 
 But where is Artotrogus ? 
 
 Artotrogus. He is here, 
 
 Close by a hero brave and fortunate, 
 And of a princely form, — a warrior ! such 
 As Mars himself would not have dared to bring 
 His prowess in compare with yours ! 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Who was it 
 
 In the Gurgustidonian plains I spared . 
 Where Bombamachides Cluninstaridysarchides, 
 Great Neptune's grandson, bore the chief command ? 
 
 Artotrogus. Oh, I remember — doubtless it is he 
 You mean to speak of, with the golden armour ; — 
 Whose legions with your breath you puft away 
 Like the light leaves or chaff before the wind. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Oh, that indeed ! that on my troth were 
 
 nothing ! 
 Artotrogus. Nothing, 't is true, compared with other 
 feats 
 That I could mention [ Tlie Captain struts off across the 
 stage.] — which you ne'er performed ! — 
 
THE BRAGGART AND THE PARASITE. 7 
 
 Show me whoever can, a greater liar 
 
 One fuller of vain boasting than this fellow 
 
 And he shall have me, I '11 resign me up 
 
 To be his slave, though when I 'm mad with hunger, 
 
 He should allow me nothing else to eat 
 
 But whey and butter-milk ! 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Where art thou ? 
 
 Artotrogus. Here. 
 
 How in the name of wonder was 't you broke 
 In India with your fist an elephant's arm ? 
 
 Pyrgopolinices, How ! arm ? 
 
 Artotrogus. His thigh, I meant. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. I was but playing. 
 
 Artotrogus. Had you put forth your strength, you 
 would have driven 
 Your arm quite through his hide, bones, guts and all. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. I would not talk of these things now. 
 
 Artotrogus. Indeed 
 
 You would but spend your breath in vain to tell 
 Your valorous feats to me, who know your prowess. 
 [Aside.~] My appetite creates me all this plague ; 
 My ears must hear him or my teeth want work ; 
 And I must swear to every lie he utters. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Hold ! — what was I about to say ? 
 
 Artotrogus. I know 
 
 What you designed to say ; a gallant action. 
 I well remember. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. What ? 
 
 Artotrogus. Whate'er it be. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Hast thou got tablets ? 
 
 Artotrogus. Yes I have ; d' ye want them ? — 
 
 A pencil too. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. How rarely dost thou suit 
 Thy mind to mine ! 
 
 Artotrogus. 'T is fit that I should study 
 
 Your inclinations and my care should be 
 Even to forerun your wishes. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. What remember'st ? 
 
 Artotrogus. I do remember — let me see ! — an hundred 
 Sycolatronidans, and thirty Sardians, 
 And three-score Macedonians, — that 's the number 
 Of persons whom you slaughtered in one day. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. What's the sum total of these men ? 
 
8 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 Artotrogus. Seven thousand. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. So much, it should be ! — Thou 'rt a 
 right accountant. 
 
 Artotrogus. I have it not in writing, but remember. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Thou hast an admirable memory ! 
 
 Artotrogus. ? T is sharpened by my stomach. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Bear thyself 
 
 As thou hast hitherto and thou shalt eat 
 Eternally ; forever shalt thou be 
 Partaker of my table ! 
 
 Artotrogus. Then again 
 
 What feats did you perform in Cappadocia. 
 Where at one single stroke you had cut off 
 Five hundred men together, if your sword 
 Had not been blunt, and these but the remains 
 Of the infantry which you before had routed, — 
 [Aside.~\ If ever there were any such in being ! 
 Why should I tell you what all mortals know — 
 That Pyrgopolinices stands alone — 
 The only one on earth famed above men 
 Por beauty, valour, and renowned exploits ? 
 The ladies all of you enamoured are, 
 Nor without reason, — since you are so handsome ; 
 Witness the gay young damsels yesterday, 
 That pluckt me by the coat. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices [smiling~]. What said they to you ? 
 
 Artotrogus. They questioned me about you — " Is not 
 that " — 
 Says one of them — " Achilles ? " — " Troth," said I, 
 " It is his brother " — " Why indeed, forsooth 
 He 's wondrous handsome," quoth another : " how 
 His hair becomes him ! — Oh, what happiness 
 Those ladies do enjoy who share his favours." 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. Did she indeed say so ? 
 
 Artotrogus. Two in particular 
 
 Begged of me I would bring you by their way, 
 That they might see you march. 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. W"hat plague it is 
 
 To be too handsome ! 
 
 Artotrogus. They are so importunate 
 
 They 're ever begging for a sight of you. 
 They send for me so often to come to them, 
 I scarce have time to attend your business. 
 
A ROMAN GENTLEMAN. 9 
 
 Pyrgopolinices. 'T is time methinks to go into the 
 Forum 
 And pay those soldiers I enlisted yesterday : 
 For King Seleucus prayed me with much suit 
 To raise him some recruits — I have resolved 
 To dedicate this day unto his service. 
 Artotrogus. Come, let 's be going then ! 
 Pyrgopolinices. Guards, follow me ! 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 — Translation of Bonnell Thornton. 
 
 A KOMAN GENTLEMAN. 
 
 "Miles Gloriosus" or the "Braggart Captain." 
 
 Pleusides. But sir, this hurts me, — to the very soul 
 Torments me. 
 
 Periplectomenes. What is 't that torments you — tell 
 me. 
 
 Pleusides. To think that I should engage you in an act 
 So young and puerile, — one of your years, — 
 So unbecoming of you and your virtue ; — 
 That you should forward me with all your might 
 In my amour ; — for you to do such things, 
 Which age like yours doth more avoid than follow. 
 It shames me I should trouble thus your age. 
 
 Periplectomenes. You are a lover, man, of a new mode, 
 That you can blush at anything you do. 
 Go, go, you nothing love. — A lover ? No, 
 The semblance you and shadow of a lover ! 
 
 Pleusides. Can it be right in me, Sir, to employ 
 One of your age to second my amour ? 
 
 Periplectomenes. How say you ? do I then appear to 
 you 
 One o' the next world already ? Do I seem 
 So near my grave and to have lived so long ? 
 Why, troth, I am not above fifty -four : — 
 I have my eye-sight clear, and I can use 
 My hands and walk well with my feet. 
 
 Paloestrio, the servant. What though 
 
10 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 His hair be gray, he is not old in mind : 
 
 The same ingenuous temper still is in him. 
 Pleusides. True, — I have found it as you say, Palaes- 
 trio: 
 
 For he is kind and free as any youth. 
 Periplectomenes. Good guest, the more you try, the 
 more you '11 know 
 
 My courtesy toward you in your love. 
 
 Pleusides. Needs he conviction, who's convinced al- 
 ready ? 
 Periplectomenes. Only that you may have sufficient 
 proof 
 
 At home, so as abroad you need not seek it. — 
 
 He who has never been himself in love, 
 
 Can hardly see into a lover's mind : 
 
 For my part I have still some little spice 
 
 Of love and moisture in my frame ; nor am I 
 
 Dried up as yet or dead to love and pleasure. 
 
 And I can crack my joke at merry meetings, 
 
 And be a boon companion : I ne'er thwart 
 
 Another in discourse, but bear in mind 
 
 To give offence to no one : I can take 
 
 My part and due share in the conversation ; 
 
 But I am silent when another 's speaking. 
 
 No spitting, hawking, snivelling dotard I : 
 
 In fine, I'm right Ephesian born and bred, 
 
 Not an Apulian or an Umbrian. 
 
 Palcestrio. What a facetious brave old gentleman, 
 
 If he possess the qualities he mentions. 
 
 Sure he was brought up in the school of Venus. 
 Periplectomenes. I '11 give you proofs of my compla- 
 cency, 
 
 More than I '11 vaunt. At table I ne'er clamour 
 
 On State affairs or prate about the laws : 
 
 Nor do I ever, in the social hour, 
 
 Once cast a lewd glance at another's mistress ; 
 
 Nor do I snatch the tid-bits to myself, 
 
 Or seize upon the cup before my turn : 
 
 Strife and dissension never do arise 
 
 From me through wine ; — if any one offend me 
 
 I go me home and break off further parley : 
 
 When in the ladies' company I then 
 
 Eesign me up to sprightliness and love. 
 
A ROMAN GENTLEMAN. 11 
 
 Pleusides. Sir, your whole manners have a special grace : 
 Show me but three men like you and I '11 forfeit 
 Their weight to you in gold. 
 
 Palcestrio. You shall not find 
 
 Another of his age that 's more accomplisht, 
 More thoroughly to his friends a friend. 
 
 Periplectomenes. I '11 make you 
 Own in my manners I 'm a very youngster 
 I '11 show myself so ready to oblige. 
 Need you an advocate to enforce your suit, 
 Rude and of fiery temper ? I am he. 
 Need you a mild and gentle ? You shall say 
 1 'm gentler than the sea, when it is husht, 
 And softer than the Zephyr's balmy breeze. 
 A jovial buck am I, a first-rate wit, 
 And best of caterers : then as for dancing, 
 No finical slim fop can equal me. 
 
 Palcestrio [to Pleusides]. Of all these excellent ac- 
 complishments, 
 Which would you choose, were you to have the option ? 
 
 Pleusides. I would, at least, my poor thanks could be 
 equal 
 To his deserts and yours ; for I have given you 
 A world of trouble. — But [to Periplectomenes] it much 
 
 concerns me, 
 The expense I put you to. 
 
 Periplectomenes. You are a fool ; — 
 
 Expense forsooth ! — Upon an enemy, 
 Or a bad wife, whatever you lay out, 
 That is expense indeed. But on a friend, 
 Or a good guest, what you expend is gain : 
 As also, what is cost in sacrifices, 
 Is by the wise and virtuous counted profit. — 
 Blest be the gods, that courtesy I have 
 With hospitality to treat a stranger. 
 Eat, drink, and take your pleasure with me ; load 
 Yourself with merriment ; my house is free, 
 I free, and I would have you use me freely. 
 Eor by the gods' kind favour I may say it 
 I from my fortune might have ta'en a wife 
 Of the best family and portioned too : 
 But I don't choose to bring into my house 
 An everlasting barker. 
 
12 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 Pleusides. Why not marry ? 
 
 'T is a sweet burden to have children. 
 
 Periplectomenes. Troth 
 
 'T is sweeter far to have one's liberty. 
 
 Palcestrio. Sir, you are able to direct yourself 
 And give advice to others. 
 
 Periplectomenes. A good wife — 
 
 If there was ever such an one on earth, — 
 Where could I find her ? — Shall I bring home one, 
 That never will address me in this fashion : 
 " Buy me some wool, my dear, that I may make you 
 A garment soft and warm, good winter clothing, 
 To keep your limbs from freezing" ? — Not a word 
 Like this you '11 ever hear come from a wife : — 
 But ere the cock crow, from my sleep she 'd rouse me, 
 Crying — " My dear, pray give me wherewithal 
 I may present my mother in the Calends ; 
 Get me a cook, and get me a confectioner ; 
 Give something to bestow in the Quinquatria 
 On the Diviner, on the enchantress, on 
 The soothsayer : it were an heinous crime 
 To send them nothing ; how they 'd look upon me. — 
 And then it can't be but I must present 
 The sorceress with some kind and gentle token ; 
 The taper-bearer is already angry, 
 That she has nothing had ; the midwife too 
 Upbraids me that she has so little sent her ; 
 What ! — won't you then send something to the nurse 
 That brings your slaves up, born beneath your roof ? " 
 These and a thousand like expenses, 
 Brought on by women, fright me from a wife, 
 Who 'd plague and tease me with the like discourses. 
 
 Palcestrio. The gods in truth befriend you; for if 
 once 
 You lose that liberty which now you hold 
 You will not easily be reinstated. 
 
 Pleusides. Yet 't is a reputation for a man 
 Of noble family and ample state 
 To breed up children, as a monument 
 Unto himself and race. 
 
 Periplectomenes. Why need I children, 
 
 When that I have relations in abundance ? — 
 I now live well and happily, — as I like, 
 
A ROMAN GENTLEMAN. 13 
 
 And to my heart's content. — Upon my death 
 My fortune I '11 bequeath to my relations, 
 Dividing it among them. — They eat with me, 
 Make me their care, see what I have to do, 
 Or what I want ; are with me before day, 
 To ask if I have slept well over night : 
 They are to me as children : they are ever 
 Sending me presents : when they sacrifice, 
 I have a larger portion than themselves : 
 They take to me the entrails ; they invite me 
 To dine, to sup with them ; he counts himself 
 The most unfortunate that sends me least ; 
 They vie with one another in their presents ; 
 When to myself I whisper all the while 
 Ay, ay, it is my fortune they gape after, 
 And therefore strive they in their gifts to me. 
 
 Palcestrio. You see things with a clear discerning 
 spirit. 
 While you are well and hearty, we may say 
 You 've children thick and three-fold. 
 
 Periplectomenes. Had I had 
 
 I should have had anxiety enough 
 On their account. I think I should have died 
 If son of mine had had a fall in liquor, 
 Or tumbled from his horse ; so great had been 
 My dread that he had broke a leg at least 
 If not his neck. — And then my apprehensions 
 Lest that my wife should bring a monstrous brood, 
 Deformed and markt, — some bandy-legged, knock-kneed, 
 Or shambling, squint-eyed, tusk-tootht brat or other. 
 
 Paloestrio. This gentleman deserves an ample fortune, 
 And to have life continued to him long ; 
 For why ? He keeps him within bounds, and yet 
 Lives well and is a pleasure to his friends. 
 
 Pleusides. What a sweet fellow. — As I hope heaven's 
 love 
 'T were fit the gods should order and provide 
 That all men should not live alike, 
 Squared by one rule : but as a price is fixt 
 On different wares, that so they may be sold 
 According to their value ; that the bad 
 Its owner may impoverish by its vileness ; 
 So it were just, the gods in human life 
 
14 TITUS MACCIUS PLAUTUS. 
 
 Should make distinction due and disproportion ; 
 That on the well-disposed they should bestow 
 A long extent of years ; the reprobate 
 And wicked they should soon deprive of life. 
 Were this provided, bad men would be fewer, 
 Less hardily they 'd act their wicked deeds 
 Nor would there be a dearth of honest men. 
 
 Periplectomenes. Whoever blames the counsels of the 
 gods 
 And finds fault with them is a fool and ignorant. 
 No more then of these matters. — I '11 to market, 
 That I may entertain you as I ought, 
 And as you should be treated — with good cheer 
 And a kind, hearty welcome. 
 
 Pleusides. Shall I then 
 
 Have no remorse in putting you to charge ? 
 Whene'er a man is quartered at a friend's, 
 If he but stay three days, his company 
 They will grow weary of ; but if he tarry 
 Ten days together, though the master bear it, 
 The servants grumble. 
 
 Periplectomenes. Wherefore have I servants 
 
 But to perform me service, not that they 
 Should bear authority o'er me or hold me 
 Bounden to them ? — If what I like they like not, 
 I steer my own course ; though 't is their aversion, 
 Still they must do 't or be it at their peril ! 
 
 — Translation of Bonnell Thornton. 
 
QUINTUS ENNIUS. 
 
 Ennitjs, whom Horace called " the second Homer " and 
 Cicero hailed as Rome's loftiest poet, was of Greek 
 origin and was born at Rudise in Calabria, in 239 b.c. 
 Being a Roman subject, he served in the army of Titus 
 Manlius in the war waged in Sardinia against the allies 
 of Carthage. In 204 the elder Cato brought him to 
 Rome. Fifteen years later he accompanied Marcus Ful- 
 vius Nobilior throughout his campaign in iEtolia and on 
 his return made a respectable living by teaching the sons 
 of Roman patricians the Greek language. He lived on 
 terms of intimacy with the great men of his day, Scipio 
 Africanus being his warmest friend. He was granted 
 the freedom of the city, and when he died, in 169, at the 
 age of seventy, his bust was placed in the tomb of the 
 Scipios. It is now supposed to be at the Vatican. 
 He wrote an epic poem in eighteen books, giving the 
 annals of Rome from the prehistoric times of the loves 
 of Mars and Rhea, and continued till his own day. He 
 translated a great number of tragedies, wrote a few com- 
 edies and various other poems, but only a few meagre 
 fragments remain. His versification was rather crude 
 and rough, but vigorous. 
 
 THE ROMAN TRIBUNE IN BATTLE. 
 
 Forth on the tribune, like a shower, the gathering jave- 
 lins spring, 
 
 His buckler pierce — or on its boss the quivering lances 
 ring — 
 
 Or rattle on his brazen helm ; but vain the utmost might 
 
 Of foes that press on every side, — none can the tribune 
 smite. 
 
 And many a spear he shivers then and many a stroke 
 bestows, 
 
 While with many a jet of reeking sweat his labouring 
 body flows. 
 
 15 
 
16 QUINT US ENNIUS. 
 
 No breathing time the tribune has — no pause — the 
 
 winged iron, 
 The Istrian darts, in ceaseless showers, provoke him and 
 
 environ : 
 And lance and sling destruction bring on many heroes 
 
 stout, 
 Who tumble headlong from the wall, within it or without. 
 
 — Wilson's Translation. 
 
 SOOTHSAYEES. 
 
 For no Marsian augur (whom fools view with awe), 
 Nor diviner nor star-gazer care I a straw ; 
 The Egyptian quack, an expounder of dreams, 
 Is neither in science nor art what he seems ; 
 Superstitious and shameless, they prowl through our 
 
 streets, 
 Some hungry, some crazy, but all of them cheats. 
 Impostors, who vaunt that to others they '11 show 
 A path which themselves neither travel nor know. 
 Since they promise us wealth if we pay for their pains 
 Let them take from that wealth and bestow what remains. 
 — Translation of John Colin Dunlop. 
 
 AEE THEEE GODS? 
 
 Yes ! there are gods ; but they no thought bestow 
 On human deeds, on mortal bliss or woe; 
 Else would such ills our wretched race assail ? 
 Would the Good suffer ? — would the Bad prevail ? 
 — Translation of John Colin Dunlop. 
 
 EVENING CALM. 
 
 The heaven's vast world stood silent ; Neptune gave 
 A hushf ul pause to Ocean's roughening wave ; 
 The Sun curbed his swift steeds ; the eternal floods 
 Stood still ; and not a breath was on the woods. 
 
 — Translation of William Petee. 
 
PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 Terence was born in Carthage in 195 b.c. In some 
 way lie was brought to Rome and became the slave of a 
 senator named Publius Terentius Lucanus, who gave him 
 the best possible education, and ultimately his freedom and 
 name. Suetonius says : "He wrote six comedies. When 
 he offered his first play, which was the l Andrian,' to the 
 ^Ediles, he was ordered to read it to Caecilius. When he 
 arrived at that poet's house he found him at table, and it 
 is said that our author, being very meanly dressed, was 
 suffered to read the opening of his play, seated on a very 
 low stool, near the couch of Caecilius ; but scarcely had 
 he repeated a few lines, when Caecilius invited him to 
 sit down to supper with him ; after which Terence 
 proceeded with his play and finished it to the no small 
 admiration of Caecilius." Caecilius died in 168 and it 
 was two years before the " Andria " was put on the stage, 
 so it is possible this is a fable. In spite of much envy 
 on the part of other play-writers, his first comedy was 
 successful. Terence was distinguished for his good looks 
 and his elegant manners, and he was at once received into 
 the most exclusive circles. His chief friends and patrons 
 were Laelius and the younger Scipio. It was openly as- 
 serted that Scipio Africanus wrote the plays for his own 
 amusement and allowed Terence to have the credit. The 
 Bacon-Shakespeare controversy was thus anticipated. 
 
 " Eunuchus " was the most popular of the six comedies ; 
 it was acted twice in one day and brought its author 
 eight thousand sesterces, a sum equivalent to about three 
 hundred dollars, though perhaps more in purchasing power. 
 Madame Dacier thus compares the plays : " Each of them 
 has its peculiar beauty. The ' Andrian ' and < Brothers ' 
 seem to excel in beauty of character ; the ' Eunuch ' and 
 'Phormio' in the vivacity of intrigue; and the "Self- 
 tormenter 9 and ' Stepmother ' have, in my mind, the ad- 
 vantage in sentiment and lively painting of the passions 
 and in the purity and delicacy of style." 
 
 17 
 
18 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 After having produced the six plays now known to 
 us, all of which are more or less accurate translations 
 from the Greek, Terence left Rome for Greece. Some 
 say that he died at sea on his return from Athens whence 
 he was bringing back one hundred and eight plays ; others 
 that he died in Greece ; and still others that his death 
 was caused by grief at having lost all his plays, original 
 as well as translated. Suetonius cites very cruel lines 
 by Porcius Licinus which attributed to the poet grave 
 immoralities. They end : — 
 
 "To depth of poverty lie was reduced, 
 Wherefore from sight of all he went away 
 Into the farthest parts of Greece, 
 And died at Stymphalus in Arcadia." 
 
 Suetonius declares that he left a daughter who married 
 a Roman knight and that he possessed a house and a 
 six-acre garden on the Appian Way. Christian August 
 Crusius thus compares Plautus and Terence : — 
 
 "Plautus is gayer; Terence is chaster. The first has 
 more genius and fire ; the latter more manners and solid- 
 ity. Plautus excels in low comedy and ridicule; Ter- 
 ence in drawing just characters and maintaining them to 
 the last. The plots of both are artful, but Terence's are 
 more likely to languish, while Plautus' spirit maintains 
 the action with vigour. His invention was greatest ; 
 Terence's art and management. Plautus gives the 
 stronger; Terence a more elegant delight. Plautus ap- 
 pears the better comedian of the two, as Terence the 
 finer poet. The former has more compass and variety ; 
 the latter more regularity and truth in his characters. 
 Plautus shone most on the stage; Terence pleases best 
 in the closet. Men of refined taste would prefer Terence ; 
 Plautus divided both patrician and plebian." As both 
 of them translated their plays from the same Greek 
 author this is equivalent to saying Plautus better repre- 
 sented the Roman life of his day, since he injected far 
 more originality. Terence translated; Plautus adapted 
 and paraphrased. 
 
 Cicero the orator, who imagined that he was also a 
 poet, spoke of Terence in labouring hexameters as being 
 the only one who could transfer the Attic graces of 
 Menander into the Latin tongue with such purity and 
 
A PLEA FOR BORROWED PLOTS. 19 
 
 beauty in his style. Caius Caesar called him " puri ser- 
 monis amator" — a lover of pure style — but regretted 
 that the " vis comica " was lacking : then he would have 
 stood in equal honour with the Grecians. Afranius, the 
 Roman comic poet who flourished about 100 B.C., declared 
 that no parallel could be found for Terence. And since 
 then he has been admired perhaps more than any other 
 of the ancient dramatists. 
 
 A PLEA FOR BORROWED PLOTS. 
 
 The bard when first he gave his mind to write 
 Thought it his only business, that his plays 
 Should please the people : but it now falls out, 
 He finds, much otherwise, and wastes, perforce, 
 His time in writing prologues ; not to tell 
 The argument, but to refute the slanders 
 Broacht by the malice of an older bard. 
 
 And mark what vices he is charged withal : 
 Menander wrote the "Andrian" and " Perinthian " ; 
 Know one and you know both ; in argument 
 Less different than in sentiment and style. 
 What suited with the "Andrian" he confesses 
 From the " Perinthian " he transferred and used 
 For his : and this it is these slanderers blame, 
 Proving by deep and learned disputation 
 That fables should not be confounded thus. 
 Troth ! all their knowledge is they nothing know : 
 Who blaming him, blame Nasvius, Plautus, Ennius, 
 Whose great example is his precedent; 
 Whose negligence he 'd wish to emulate 
 Rather than their dark diligence. Henceforth 
 Let them, I give them warning, be at peace, 
 And cease to rail, lest they be made to know 
 Their own misdeeds ! . . . 
 
 Yet if to other poets 't is not lawful 
 To draw the characters our fathers drew, 
 How can it then be lawful to exhibit 
 Slaves running to and fro ; to represent 
 Good matrons, wanton harlots ; or to show 
 An eating parasite, vainglorious soldier, 
 
20 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 Supposititious children, bubbled dotards, 
 Or love, or hate, or jealousy? — In short, 
 Nothing 's said now, but has been said before ! 
 Weigh then these things with candour and forgive 
 The Modern, if what Ancients did they do ! 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 OBIGINALITY IN EEVAMPING. 
 
 As to report which envious men have spread 
 That he has ransackt many Grecian plays, 
 While he composes some few Latin ones, — 
 That he denies not he has done ; nor does 
 Bepent he did it ; means to do it still ; 
 Safe in the warrant and authority 
 Of great bards who did long since do the same. 
 Then for the charge that his arch-enemy 
 Maliciously reproaches him withal ; 
 That he but lately hath applied himself 
 To music, with the genius of his friends, 
 Bather than natural talents fraught ; how true 
 Your judgment, your opinion, must decide ! 
 I would entreat you therefore not to lean 
 To tales of slander rather than of candour. 
 Be favourable ; nurse with growing hopes 
 The bards who give you pleasing novelties ; 
 Pleasing I say, not such as his I mean, 
 Who lately introduced a breathless slave 
 Making the crowd give way : — But wherefore trace 
 A dunce's faults ? which shall be shown at large, 
 When more he writes, unless he cease to rail. 
 
 Attend impartially ! and let me once 
 Without annoyance act an easy part ; 
 Lest your old servant be o'erlaboured still 
 With toilsome characters — the running slave, 
 The eating parasite, enraged old man, 
 The bold-faced sharper, covetous procurer ; 
 Parts that ask powers of voice and iron sides. 
 
 Deign then, for my sake, to accept this plea, 
 And grant me some remission from my labour ! 
 Por they who now produce new comedies 
 
A MODEL SON. 21 
 
 Spare not my age : if there is aught laborious 
 
 They run to me ; but if of little weight 
 
 Away to others ! In our piece to-day 
 
 The style is pure : now try my talents then 
 
 In either character. If I for gain 
 
 Never o'errated my abilities ; 
 
 If I have held it still my chief reward 
 
 To be subservient to your pleasure ; fix 
 
 In me a fair example, that our youth 
 
 May seek to please you, rather than themselves. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 A MODEL SON. 
 " The Andrian." 
 
 Simo [to servants']. Carry those things in ; go. 
 Sosia, come here ; a word with you. 
 
 JSosia [Simo's .freedmari]. I understand; that these be 
 ta'en due care of. 
 
 Simo. Quite another thing. 
 
 JSosia. What can my art do for you ? 
 
 Simo. This business 
 
 Needs not that art ; but those good qualities, 
 Which I have ever known abide in you, 
 Fidelity and secrecy. 
 
 Sosia. I wait your pleasure. 
 
 Simo. Since I bought you, from a boy, 
 How just and mild a servitude you ? ve past 
 With me, you 're conscious. From a purchased slave 
 I made you free, because you served me freely ; 
 The greatest recompense I could bestow. 
 
 Sosia. I do remember. 
 
 Simo. Nor do I repent. 
 
 Sosia. If I have ever done or now do aught 
 That 's pleasing to you, Simo, I am glad 
 And thankful that you hold my service good. 
 And yet this troubles me : for this detail, 
 Forcing your kindness on my memory, 
 Seems to reproach me of ingratitude. 
 
22 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 Simo. I will : and this I must advise you first : 
 The nuptial you suppose preparing now 
 Is all unreal. 
 
 Sosia. Why pretend it then ? 
 
 Simo. You shall hear all from first to last ; and thus 
 The conduct of my son, my own intent, 
 And what part you 're to act, you '11 know at once. 
 For my son, Sosia, now to manhood grown, 
 Had freer scope of living : for before 
 How might you know, or how indeed divine 
 His disposition, good or ill, while youth, 
 Fear, and a master, all constrained him ? 
 
 Sosia. True ! 
 
 Simo. Though most, as is the bent of youth, apply 
 Their mind to some one object — horses, hounds, 
 Or to the study of philosophy, 
 Yet none of these, beyond the rest, did he 
 Pursue ; and yet, in moderation, all. 
 I was o'er joyed. 
 
 Sosia. And not without good cause. 
 
 For this I hold to be the Golden Rule 
 Of life : Too much of one thing 's good for nothing ! 
 
 Simo. So did he shape his life to bear himself 
 With ease and frank good humour unto all ; 
 Mixt in what company soe'er, to them 
 He wholly did resign himself; complied 
 With all their humours, checking nobody, 
 Nor e'er assuming to himself : and thus 
 With ease, and free from envy, may you gain 
 Praise, and conciliate friends. 
 
 Sosia. He ruled his life 
 
 By prudent maxims : for, as times go now, 
 Compliance raises friends and truth breeds hate ! 
 
 Simo. Meanwhile ('t is now about three years ago) 
 A certain woman from the isle of Andros, 
 Came o'er to settle in this neighbourhood, 
 By poverty and cruel kindred driven ; 
 Handsome and young. 
 
 Sosia. Ah ! I begin to fear 
 
 Some mischief from this Andrian. 
 
 Simo. At first 
 
 Modest and thriftily, though poor, she lived, 
 With her own hands a homely livelihood 
 
A MODEL SON. 23 
 
 Scarce earning from the distaff and the loom. 
 But when a lover came with proffered gold, 
 Another and another ; as the mind 
 Falls easily from labour to delight, 
 She took their offers and set up the trade. 
 They who were then her chief gallants, by chance 
 Drew thither, as oft happens with young men, 
 My son to join their company. " So, so ! " 
 (Said I within myself) " he 's smit ! he has it ! " 
 And in the morning as I saw their servants 
 Run to and fro, I 'd often call, " Here, boy. 
 Prithee now, who had Chrysis yesterday ? n — 
 The name of this same Andrian. 
 
 jSosia. I take you ! 
 
 Simo. Phsedrus, they 'd say, Clinia, or Mceratus ; 
 For all these three then followed her. — " Well, well, 
 But what of Pamphilus ? " — " Of Pamphilus ? 
 He supt, and paid his reckoning." — I was glad. 
 Another day I made the like inquiry, 
 But still found nothing touching Pamphilus. 
 Thus I believed his virtue proved and hence 
 Thought him a miracle of continence ; 
 For he who struggles with such spirits, yet 
 Holds in that commerce an unshaken mind, 
 May well be trusted with the governance 
 Of his own conduct ! Nor was I alone 
 Delighted with his life, but all the world 
 With one accord said all good things and praised 
 My happy fortunes, who possest a son 
 So good, so liberally disposed. — In short 
 Chr ernes, seduced by this fine character, 
 Came of his own accord, to offer me 
 His only daughter with a handsome portion 
 In marriage with my son. I liked the match : 
 Betrothed my son : and this was pitcht upon 
 By joint agreement, for the wedding-day. 
 
 Sosia. And what prevents its being so ? 
 
 Simo. I '11 tell you. 
 
 In a few days, the treaty still on foot, 
 This neighbour Chrysis dies. 
 
 Sosia. In happy hour. 
 
 Happy for you. I was afraid of Chrysis ! 
 
 Simo. My son, on this event, was often there 
 
24 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 With those who were the late gallants of Chrysis ; 
 
 Assisted to prepare the funeral, 
 
 Ever condoled and sometimes wept with them. 
 
 This pleased me then ; for in myself I thought, 
 
 " Since merely for a small acquaintance' sake 
 
 He takes this death so nearly, what 
 
 If he himself had loved ? What would he feel for me, 
 
 For me, his father ? " All these things I thought 
 
 Were but the tokens and the offices 
 
 Of a humane and tender disposition. 
 
 In short, on his account e'en I myself 
 
 Attend the funeral, suspecting yet 
 
 No harm. 
 
 Sosia. And what — 
 
 Simo. You shall hear all. The corpse 
 
 Borne forth, we follow : when among the women 
 Attending there, I chanced to cast my eyes 
 Upon one girl, in form — 
 
 /Sosia. — Not bad perhaps ! — 
 
 Simo. And look so modest and so beauteous, Sosia, 
 That nothing could exceed it. As she seemed 
 To grieve beyond the rest, and as her air 
 Appeared more liberal and ingenuous, 
 I went and askt her women who she was. 
 " Sister," they said, " to Chrysis " : when at once 
 It struck my mind : " So ! so ! the secret 's out ; 
 Hence were those tears and hence all that compassion." 
 
 Sosia. Alas ! I fear how this affair will end. 
 
 Simo. Meanwhile the funeral proceeds : we follow ; 
 Come to the sepulchre ; the body 's placed 
 Upon the pile, lamented ; whereupon 
 This sister I was speaking of, all wild, 
 Kan to the flames with peril of her life. 
 Then, there ! the frightened Pamphilus betrays 
 His well-dissembled and long-hidden love ; 
 Runs up and takes her round the waist and cries, 
 " Oh, my Clycerium ! what is it you do ? 
 Why, why endeavour to destroy yourself?" 
 Then she, in such a manner, that you thence 
 Might easily perceive their long, long love, 
 Threw herself back into his arms and wept. 
 Oh, how familiarly ! 
 
 Sosia. How say you ? 
 
A MODEL SON. 25 
 
 Simo. I 
 
 Return in anger thence, and hurt at heart, 
 Yet had not cause sufficient for reproof. 
 " What have I done," he 'd say, " or how deserved 
 Reproach ? or how offended, father ? — Her, 
 Who meant to cast herself into the names, 
 I stopt " — A fair excuse ! 
 
 Sosia. You 're in the right ; 
 
 For him who saved a life, if you reprove, 
 What will you do to him that offers wrong ? 
 
 Simo. Chremes next day comes open-mouthed to me. 
 Oh, monstrous ! he had found that Famphilus 
 Was married to this stranger woman ! I 
 Deny the fact most steadily, and he 
 As steadily insists. In short, we part 
 On such bad terms, as let me understand 
 He would refuse his daughter. 
 
 Sosia. Did you not 
 
 Then take your son to task ? 
 
 Simo. Not even this 
 
 Appeared sufficient reason for reproof ! 
 
 Sosia. How so ? 
 
 Simo. " Father," he might have said, " you have, you 
 know, 
 Prescribed a term to all these things yourself. 
 The time is near at hand, when I must live 
 According to the humour of another. 
 Meantime, permit me now to please my own." 
 
 Sosia. What cause remains to chide him then ? 
 
 Simo. If he 
 
 Refuses on account of this amour 
 To take a wife, such obstinate denial 
 Must be considered as his first offence. 
 Wherefore I now, from this mock nuptial, 
 Endeavour to draw real cause to chide : 
 And that same rascal Davus (if he 's plotting), 
 That he may let his counsel run to waste, 
 Now when his knaveries can do no harm, 
 Who, I believe, with all his might and main 
 Will strive to cross my purposes ; and that 
 More to plague me than to oblige my son. 
 
 Sosia. Why so? 
 
 Simo. Why so! Bad mind, bad heart! But if 
 
26 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 I catch him at his tricks ! — But what need words ? 
 
 If as I wish it may, it should appear 
 
 That Pamphilus objects not to the match, 
 
 Chremes remains to be prevailed upon, 
 
 And will, I hope, consent. 'T is now your place 
 
 To counterfeit these nuptials cunningly, 
 
 To frighten Davus, and observe my son, 
 
 What he 's about, what plots they hatch together. 
 
 Sosia. Enough ! I '11 take due care. Let 's now go in ! 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 A HAPPY BECONCILIATIOK 
 
 "The Andeian." 
 
 Chremes. Ah, be not in such rage. 
 
 Simo. Oh, Chremes, Chremes, 
 
 Filial unkindness ! — Don't you pity me ? 
 To feel all this for such a thankless son ! — 
 Here, Pamphilus, come forth ! ho, Pamphilus ! 
 Have you no shame? [Catting at G-lycerium's door. 
 
 Pamphilus. Who calls ? — Undone ! my father. 
 
 /Simo. What say you ? Most — 
 
 Chremes. Ah, rather speak at once 
 
 Your purpose, Simo, and forbear reproach ! 
 
 Simo. As if 't were possible to utter aught 
 Severer than he merits ! Tell me, then, [to Pamphilus] 
 Gly cerium is a citizen ? 
 
 Pamphilus. They say so ! 
 
 Simo. They say so ! — Oh, amazing impudence ! — 
 Does he consider what he says ? Does he 
 Repent the deed ? or does his colour take 
 The hue of shame ? — To be so weak of soul, 
 Against the custom of our citizens, 
 Against the law, against his father's will, 
 To wed himself to shame and this vile woman ! 
 
 Pamphilus. Wretch that I am ! 
 
 Simo. Ah, Pamphilus, d' ye feel 
 
 Your wretchedness at last ? Then, then, when first 
 You wrought upon your mind at any rate 
 To gratify your passion : from that hour 
 
A HAPPY RECONCILIATION. 27 
 
 Well might you feel your state of wretchedness. 
 But why give in to this ? Why torture thus, 
 Why vex my spirit ? Why afflict my age 
 For his distemperature ? Why rue his sins ? 
 — No, let him have her, joy in her, live with her! 
 
 Pamphilus. My father. 
 
 Simo. How my father ? — Can I think 
 
 You want this father ? You that for yourself 
 A home, a wife, and children have acquired 
 Against your father's will ? and witnesses 
 Suborned to prove that she 's a citizen ? 
 You Ve gained your point. 
 
 Pamphilus. My father, but one word — 
 
 Simo. What would you say ? 
 
 Chremes. Nay, hear him, Simo. 
 
 Simo. Hear him ? 
 
 What must I hear then, Chremes ? 
 
 Chremes. Let him speak ! 
 
 Simo. Well, let him speak : I hear him. 
 
 Pamphilus. I confess 
 
 I love Gly cerium : if it be a fault, 
 That too I do confess. To you, my father, 
 I yield myself ; dispose me as you please. 
 Command me. Say, that I shall take a wife; 
 Leave her ; — I will endure it as I may ! — 
 This only I beseech you, think not I 
 Suborned this old man hither. — Suffer me 
 To clear myself and bring him here before you. 
 
 Simo. Bring him here ? 
 
 Pamphilus. Let me, father. 
 
 Chremes. 'T is but just ! 
 
 Permit him. 
 
 Pamphilus. Grant me this. 
 
 Simo. Well, be it so. [Exit Pamphilus. 
 
 I could bear all this bravely, Chremes ; more, 
 Much more to know that he deceived me not ! 
 
 Chremes. For a great fault a little punishment 
 Suffices to a father. 
 
 Reenter Pamphilus with Crito of Andros. 
 
 Crito. Say no more. 
 
 Any of these inducements would prevail : 
 
28 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 Or your entreaty, or that it is truth, 
 Or that I wish it for Glycerium's sake. 
 
 Chremes. Whom do I see ? Crito, the Andrian? 
 Nay, certainly 't is Crito ! 
 
 Crito. Save you, Chremes ! 
 
 Chremes. What has brought you to Athens ? 
 
 Crito. Accident ; 
 
 But is this Simo ? 
 
 Chremes. Ay ! 
 
 Simo. Asks he for me ? 
 
 So, sir, you say that this Glycerium 
 Is an Athenian citizen ? 
 
 Crito. Do you 
 
 Deny it ? 
 
 Simo. What, then, are you come prepared? — 
 
 Crito. Prepared ! for what ? 
 
 Simo. And dare you ask for what ? 
 
 Shall you proceed thus with impunity ? 
 Lay snares for inexperienced liberal youth, 
 With fraud, temptation, and fair promises 
 Soothing their minds ? — 
 
 Crito. Have you your wits ? 
 
 Simo. And then 
 
 With marriage solder up their harlot loves ? 
 
 Pamphilus [aside']. Alas ! I fear the stranger will not 
 bear this. 
 
 Chremes. Knew you this person, Simo, you 'd not think 
 thus ! 
 He 's a good man. 
 
 Simo. A good man he ? — To come, 
 
 Although at Athens never seen till now, 
 So opportunely on the wedding day ? 
 Is such a fellow to be trusted, Chremes ? 
 
 Pamphilus \_aside~]. But that I fear my father, I could 
 make 
 That matter clear to him. 
 
 Simo. A sharper. 
 
 Crito. How ! 
 
 Chremes. It is his humour, Crito, do not heed him ! 
 
 Crito. Let him look to 't. If he persists in saying 
 Whate'er he pleases, I shall make him hear 
 Something that may displease him. — Do I stir 
 In these affairs, or make them my concern ? 
 
A HAPPY RECONCILIATION. 29 
 
 Bear your misfortunes patiently ! Tor me, 
 
 If I speak true or false, shall now be known. 
 
 — A man of Athens once upon a time 
 
 Was shipwreckt on the coast of Andros : with him 
 
 This very woman, then an infant. He 
 
 In this distress applied, it so fell out, 
 
 For help to Chry sis' father — 
 
 Simo. All romance ! 
 
 Chremes. Let him alone ! 
 
 Crito. And will he interrupt me ? 
 
 Chremes. Go on ! 
 
 Crito. Now Chrysis' father, who received him, 
 
 Was my relation. There I 've often heard 
 The man himself declare he was of Athens. 
 There too he died. 
 
 Chremes. His name ? 
 
 Simo. His name so quickly ? 
 
 Crito. Phania. 
 
 Chremes. Amazement. 
 
 Crito. Troth, I think 't was Phania. 
 
 But this I ? m sure, he said he was of Khamnos. 
 
 Chremes. Oh, Jupiter ! 
 
 Crito. These circumstances, Chremes, 
 
 Were known to many others, then in Andros. 
 
 Chremes. Heaven grant it may be as I wish ! Inform me 
 Whose daughter, said he, was the child ? His own ? 
 
 Crito. No, not his own. 
 
 Chremes. Whose then ? 
 
 Crito. His brother's daughter. 
 
 Chremes. Mine, mine undoubtedly. 
 
 Crito. What say you ? 
 
 Simo. How ? 
 
 Pamphilus. Hark, Pamphilus ! 
 
 Simo. But why believe you this ? 
 
 Chremes. That Phania was my brother. 
 
 Simo. True, I knew him. 
 
 Chremes. He, to avoid the war, departed hence ; 
 And fearing 't were unsafe to leave the child, 
 Embarkt with her in quest of me to Asia : 
 Since when I 've heard no news of him till now. 
 
 Pamphilus. I 'm scarce myself, my mind is so enrapt 
 With fear, hope, joy, and wonder of so great, 
 So sudden happiness. 
 
30 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 Simo. Indeed, my Chrerues, 
 
 I heartily rejoice she 's found, your daughter. 
 
 Pamphilus. I do believe you, father. 
 
 Chr ernes. But one doubt 
 
 There still remains, which gives me pain. 
 
 Pamphilus. Away 
 
 With all your doubts. You puzzle a plain cause ! 
 
 Onto. What is that doubt ? 
 
 Chremes. That name does not agree. 
 
 Crito. She had another, when a child. 
 
 Chremes. What, Crito ? 
 
 Can you remember ? 
 
 Crito. I am hunting for it. 
 
 Pamphilus. Shall then his memory oppose my bliss ? 
 When I can minister the cure myself ? — 
 No, I will not permit it ! — Hark you, Chremes, 
 The name is Pasibula. 
 
 Crito. True ! 
 
 Chremes. The same. 
 
 Pamphilus. I ? ve heard it from herself a thousand times. 
 
 Simo. Chremes, I trust you will believe we all 
 Eejoice at this. 
 
 Chremes. Tore Heaven, I believe so. 
 
 Pamphilus. And now, my father — 
 
 Simo. Peace, son, the event 
 
 Has reconciled me ! 
 
 Pamphilus. thou best of fathers. 
 
 Does Chremes too confirm Grlycerium mine ? 
 
 Chremes. And with good cause, if Simo hinder not. 
 
 Pamphilus. Sir ? 
 
 Simo. Be it so ! 
 
 Chremes. My daughter's portion is 
 
 Ten talents, Pamphilus. 
 
 Pamphilus. I am content. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
THE PARASITE AND BOASTFUL CAPTAIN. 31 
 
 THE PARASITE AND THE BOASTFUL CAPTAIN. 
 
 4 'The Eunuch." 
 
 Gnatho. Good Heavens, how much one man excels 
 another ! 
 What difference 'twixt a wise man and a fool ! 
 What just now happened proves it : coming hither 
 I met with an old countryman — a man 
 Of my own place and order, like myself 
 No scurvy fellow ; who, like me, had spent 
 In mirth and jollity his whole estate. 
 Seeing him in a wretched trim, his looks 
 Lean, sick, and dirty, and his clothes all rags, 
 " How now," cried I, " what means this figure, Friend ? " 
 " Alas," says he, " my patrimony ? s gone ! 
 Ah, how am I reduced ! My old acquaintance 
 And friends all shun me." — Hearing this, how cheap 
 I held him in comparison with me. 
 " Why, how now, wretch ! " said I, " most idle wretch. 
 Have you spent all, nor left even hope behind ? 
 What ! have you lost your sense with your estate ? 
 Me ! — look on me — come from the same condition ! 
 How sleek ! how neat ! how clad ! in what good case ! 
 I 've everything, though nothing ; naught possess, 
 Yet naught I ever want." — "Ah, sir, but I 
 Have an unhappy temper and can't bear 
 To be the butt of others, or to take 
 A beating now and then ! " — How then ! d' ye think 
 Those are the means of thriving ? No, my friend. 
 Such formerly indeed might drive a trade ; 
 But mine 's a new profession ; I the first 
 That ever struck into this road. There are 
 A kind of men who wish to be the head 
 Of everything, but are not. These I follow 
 Not for their sport and laughter, but for gain, 
 To laugh with them and wonder at their parts : 
 Whate'er they say, I praise it ; if again 
 They contradict, I praise that too : Does any 
 Deny ? I too deny : Affirm ? I too 
 Affirm ; and, in a word, I 've brought myself 
 To say, unsay, swear, and unswear at pleasure ! 
 
32 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 And that is now the best of all professions. . . . 
 
 Deep in this conversation, we at length 
 
 Come to the market, where the several tradesmen, 
 
 Butchers, cooks, grocers, poulterers, fishmongers 
 
 (Who, while my means were ample, profited, 
 
 And though now wasted, profit by me still), 
 
 All run with joy to me, salute, invite, 
 
 And bid me welcome ! He, poor half -starved wretch, 
 
 Soon as he saw me thus carest, and found 
 
 I got my bread so easily, desired 
 
 He might have leave to learn that art of me. 
 
 I bade him follow me, if possible. 
 
 And as the Schools of the Philosophers 
 
 Have ta'en from the philosophers their names, 
 
 So in like manner, let all parasites 
 
 Be called from me Gnathonicks. . . . 
 
 Thraso. It is, indeed, something, I know not how, 
 Peculiar to me ; do whatever I please, 
 It will appear agreeable. 
 
 Gnatho. In truth 
 
 I always have observed it ! 
 
 Thraso. Even the king 
 
 Held himself much obliged, whate'er I did: 
 Not so to others. 
 
 Gnatho. Men of wit like you, 
 
 The glory, got by others' care and toil, 
 Often transfer unto themselves ! 
 
 Thraso. You Ve hit it ! 
 
 Gnatho. The king then held you — 
 
 Thraso. Certainly — 
 
 Gnatho. Most dear — 
 
 Thraso. Most near. He trusted his whole army to me, 
 His councils — 
 
 Gnatho. Wonderful. 
 
 Thraso. And then, whene'er 
 
 Satiety of company, or hate 
 Of business seized him — when he would repose — 
 
 Gnatho. Perfectly! 
 When he would — in a manner — clear his stomach 
 Of all uneasiness ! 
 
 Gnatho. The very thing ! 
 
 On such occasions he chose none but me. 
 
 Gnatho. Hui ! there 's a king indeed ! a king of taste. 
 
THE PARASITE AND BOASTFUL CAPTAIN. 33 
 
 Thraso. No general man, I promise you ! 
 
 Gnatho. Oh, no ! 
 
 He must have been particular indeed, 
 If he conversed with you. 
 
 TJiraso. The courtiers all 
 
 Began to envy me and railed in secret ; 
 I cared not; whence their spleen increased the more. 
 One in particular, who had the charge 
 Of the elephants from India, grew at last 
 So very troublesome ; " I prithee, Strato, 
 Are you so savage and so fierce," said I, 
 " Because you 're governor of the wild beasts ? " 
 
 Gnatho. Oh, finely said ! — and shrewdly- excellent ! — 
 Too hard upon him ! — what said he to 't ? 
 
 Thraso. Nothing ! 
 
 Gnatho. And how the devil should he ? 
 
 Thraso. Ay ! but the story of the Bhodian, Gnatho. 
 How smart I was upon him at a feast — 
 Did I ne'er tell you ? 
 
 Gnatho. Never ! but pray do ! 
 
 [J.m?e.] I 've heard it o'er and o'er a thousand times. 
 
 Thraso. We were by chance together at a feast — 
 This Ehodian that I told you of and I — 
 I, as it happened, had a wench : the spark 
 Began to toy with her and laugh at me. 
 " Why, how now, Impudence," said I, " are you 
 A hare yourself, and yet would hunt for game 9 " 
 
 Gnatho. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 Witty ! smart ! incomparable ! 
 Is it your own ? I swear I thought 't was old. 
 
 Thraso. Why, did you ever hear it ? 
 
 Gnatho. Very often 
 
 And reckoned admirable. 
 
 Thraso. 'T is my own ! 
 
 Gnatho. And yet 't was pity to be so severe 
 On a young fellow and a gentleman. . . . 
 What became of him ? 
 
 Thraso. It did for him. The company were all 
 Eeady to die with laughing ! — In a word. 
 They dreaded me. 
 
 Gnatho. No wonder ! 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
34 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 SYMPATHY 
 
 * ' The Self-tormentor. ' ' 
 
 Menedemus. Have you such leisure from your own 
 affairs 
 To think of those that don't concern you, Chremes ? 
 Chr ernes. I am a man and feel for all mankind. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 "The Self-tormentor." 
 
 Clitipho. They say that he is miserable. 
 
 Chremes, Miserable ? 
 
 Who needs be less so ? For what earthly good 
 Can man possess which he may not enjoy ? 
 Parents, a prosperous country, friends, birth, riches, 
 Yet all these take their value from the mind 
 Of the possessor : He that knows their use, 
 To him they 're blessings ; he that knows it not, 
 To him misuse converts them into curses. 
 
 — Translation, of George Colman. 
 
 WIVES AND MISTEESSES. 
 
 "The Stepmother." 
 
 Bacchis. Well, I commend you, my Antiphila; 
 Happy in having made it still your care 
 That virtue should seem fair as beauty in you. 
 Nor, gracious Heaven so help me, do I wonder 
 If every man should wish you for his own ; 
 For your discourse bespeaks a worthy mind, 
 And when I ponder with myself and weigh 
 Your course of life and all the rest of those 
 Who live not on the common, 't is not strange 
 Your morals should be different from ours ! 
 
NO HOPE; NO DISAPPOINTMENT. 35 
 
 Yirtue 's your interest ; those with whom we deal 
 
 Forbid it to be ours ; for our gallants, 
 
 Charmed by our beauty, court us but for that, 
 
 Which, fading, they transfer their love to others. 
 
 If then meanwhile we look not to ourselves, 
 
 We live forlorn, deserted and distrest. 
 
 You, when you We once agreed to pass your life 
 
 Bound to one man, whose temper suits with yours 
 
 He too attaches his whole heart to you : 
 
 Thus mutual friendship draws you each to each; 
 
 Nothing can part you, nothing shake your love. 
 
 Antiphil-a. I know not others ; for myself I know 
 From his content I ever drew my own. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 "The Stepmother." 
 
 Oh, Heaven and earth, what animals are women! 
 
 What a conspiracy among them all 
 
 To do or not to do, to hate or love alike ! 
 
 No one but has the sex so strong in her, 
 
 She differs nothing from the rest. Stepmothers 
 
 All hate their stepdaughters ; and every wife 
 
 Studies alike to contradict her husband, 
 
 The same perverseness running through them all. 
 
 Each seems trained up in the same school of mischief ; 
 
 And of that school, if any such there be, 
 
 My wife I think is schoolmistress. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 NO HOPE; NO DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 "Phormio." 
 
 Demipho. I know not what to do ; 
 
 This stroke has come so unawares upon me, 
 Beyond all expectation, past belief ! 
 — I 'm so enraged, I can't compose my mind 
 
36 PUBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER. 
 
 To think upon it. — Wherefore every man, 
 When his affairs go on most swimmingly, 
 Even then it most behooves to arm himself 
 Against the coming storm : loss, danger, exile, 
 Returning ever let him look to meet ; 
 His so a in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick — 
 All common accidents, and may have happened ; 
 That nothing should seem new or strange ! But if 
 Aught has fallen out beyond his hopes, all that 
 Let him account clear gain ! 
 
 Geta. Oh, Demipho, 
 
 'T is wonderful how much a wiser man 
 I am than my old master ! My misfortunes 
 I have considered well. — At his return 
 Doomed to grind ever in the mill, beat, chained, 
 Or set to labour in the fields ; of these 
 Nothing will happen new ! If aught falls out 
 Beyond my hopes, all that I '11 count clear gain ! 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 THE ILLS OF BEING IN LOVE. 
 
 In love are all these ills: suspicions, quarrels, 
 Wrongs, reconcilements, war, and peace again. 
 Things thus uncertain, if by Reason's rules 
 You 'd certain make, it were as wise a task 
 To try with reason to run mad. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
 THE CONTRADICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 " The Brothers." 
 
 Demea. Never did man lay down so fair a plan 
 So wise a rule of life, but fortune, age, 
 Or long experience made some change in it; 
 And taught him, that those things he thought he knew, 
 He did not know, and what he held as best, 
 
THE CONTRADICTIONS OF LIFE. 37 
 
 In practice he threw by ! The very thing 
 
 That happens to myself. For that hard life 
 
 Which I have ever led, my race near run, 
 
 Now in the last stage, I renounce — and why ? 
 
 But that by dear experience I ? ve been told 
 
 There 's nothing so advantages a man, 
 
 As mildness and complacency. Of this 
 
 My brother and myself are living proofs ! 
 
 He always led an easy, cheerful life. 
 
 Good-humoured, mild, offending nobody, 
 
 Smiling on all — a jovial bachelor, 
 
 His whole expenses centred in himself. 
 
 I, on the contrary, rough, rigid, cross, 
 
 Saving, morose, and thrifty, took a wife : 
 
 What miseries did marriage bring ! — had children ; 
 
 A new uneasiness. — And then besides, 
 
 Striving all ways to make a fortune for them, 
 
 I have worn out my prime of life and health ; 
 
 And now, my course near finisht, what return 
 
 Do I receive for all my toil ? Their hate ! 
 
 Meanwhile my brother, without any care, 
 
 Keaps all a father's comforts ! Him they love, 
 
 Me they avoid ; to him they open all 
 
 Their secret counsels; dote on him, and both 
 
 Repair to him ; while I am quite forsaken ! 
 
 His life they pray for, but expect my death. 
 
 Thus those, brought up by my exceeding labour, 
 
 He, at a small expense, has made his own : 
 
 The care all mine, and all the pleasure his. 
 
 — Translation of George Colman. 
 
TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 Lucretius, the famous Epicurean poet, is personally 
 the vaguest and most shadowy of all the writers of 
 antiquity. The date of his birth is variously stated as 
 97, 95, or 94 b.c. ; his death at 55, 52, or 51 b.c. The 
 Eusebian Chronicle, which was written nearly four hun- 
 dred years after his death and exists now only in the 
 Latin translation of St. Jerome, states that he wrote his 
 poem in the intervals of insanity caused by a love potion, 
 that Cicero revised the work, and that he committed sui- 
 cide. All these statements are open to doubt. The poem 
 on which his fame rests consists of seventy-four hundred 
 hexameter lines divided into six books, addressed to Caius 
 Memmius Gemellus, the profligate poet and brilliant 
 orator, son-in-law to Sulla. The "De Eerum Natura," 
 as it was called, is regarded as the greatest didactic poem 
 ever written. He believed that the universe was due to 
 a fortuitous correlation of atoms ; that the gods, if they 
 existed, dwelt in peace far aloof, and that much of the 
 unhappiness of man arose from the unnecessary dread 
 which they harboured regarding the interference of jeal- 
 ous or malevolent powers. He believed that all phenom- 
 ena could be explained by natural causes. The dryness 
 of such theorizing he relieved by introducing episodes of 
 exquisite beauty and wonderful power. His was not the 
 philosophy of despair ; though he argued that the soul 
 which comes into existence with the body ends with its 
 dissolution, and that there is no consciousness and there- 
 fore no knowledge in the grave; he teaches that true 
 pleasure is to be found in moderation, and that the inevi- 
 table annihilation is a relief and a blessing. 
 
 ON LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 I. 
 
 When storms blow loud, 't is sweet to watch at ease 
 Erom shore the sailor labouring with the seas : 
 Because the sense, not that such pains are his, 
 
 38 
 
ON LIFE AND DEATH. 39 
 
 But that they are not ours, must always please. 
 
 Sweet for the cragsman, from some high retreat 
 
 Watching the plains below where legions meet, 
 
 To await the moment when the walls of war 
 
 Thunder and clash together. But more sweet, 
 
 Sweeter by far on Wisdom's rampired height 
 
 To pace serene the porches of the light, 
 
 And thence look down — down on the purblind herd 
 
 Seeking and never finding in the night 
 
 The road to peace — the peace that all might hold, 
 
 But yet is missed by young men and by old, 
 
 Lost in the strife for palaces and powers, 
 
 The axes and the lictors and the gold. 
 
 O sightless eyes ! O hands that toil in vain ! 
 
 Not such your needs ! Your nature's needs are twain, 
 
 And only twain : and these are to be free — 
 
 Your minds from terror and your bones from pain. 
 
 Unailing limbs,, a calm unanxious breast — 
 
 Grant Nature these and she will do the rest. 
 
 Nature will bring you, be you rich or poor, 
 
 Perhaps not much — at all events her best. 
 
 What though no statued youths from wall and wall 
 
 Strew light along your midnight festival, 
 
 With golden hands, nor beams from Labanon 
 
 Keep the lyre's languor lingering through the hall, 
 
 Yours is the table 'neath the high-whispering trees ; 
 
 Yours is the lyre of leaf and stream and breeze, 
 
 The golden flagon and the echoing dome -*■ 
 
 Lapt in the Spring, what care you then for these ? 
 
 Sleep is no sweeter on the ivory bed 
 
 Than yours on moss ; and fever's shafts are sped 
 
 As clean through silks damaskt for dreaming kings, 
 
 As through the hood that wraps the poor man's head. 
 
 What then if all the prince's glittering store 
 
 Yields to his body not one sense the more, 
 
 Nor any ache or fever of them all 
 
 Is barred out by bronze gates or janitor — 
 
 What shall the palace, what the proud domain 
 
 Do for the mind — vain splendours of the vain ? 
 
 How shall these minister to a mind diseased, 
 
 Or raze one written trouble from the brain ? 
 
 Unless you think that conscience with its stings 
 
 And misery, fears the outward pomp of things — 
 
40 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 Fears to push swords and sentinels aside, 
 
 And sit the assessor of the king of kings. 
 
 The mind. Ay — there 's the rub ! The root is there 
 
 Of that one malady which all men share. 
 
 It gleams between the haggard lids of joy ; 
 
 It burns a canker in the heart of care. 
 
 Within the gold bowl, when the feast is set, 
 
 It lurks. ; T is bitter in the labourer's sweat. 
 
 Feed thou the starving, and thou bring'st it back — 
 
 Back to the starving, who alone forget. 
 
 O you who under silken curtains lie, 
 
 And you whose only roof-tree is the sky, 
 
 What is the curse that blights your lives alike ? 
 
 Not that you hate to live, but fear to die. 
 
 Fear is the poison. Wheresoe'er you go, 
 
 Out of the skies above, the clods below, 
 
 The sense thrills through you of some pitiless Power 
 
 Who scowls at once your father and your foe ; 
 
 Who lets his children wander at their whim, 
 
 Choosing their road, as though not bound by him : 
 
 But all their life is rounded with a shade, 
 
 And every road goes down behind the rim ; 
 
 And there behind the rim, the swift, the lame, 
 
 At different paces, but their end the same, 
 
 Into the dark shall one by one go down, 
 
 Where the great furnace shakes its hair of flame. 
 
 ye who cringe and cower before the throne 
 
 Of him whose heart is fire, whose hands are stone, 
 Who shall deliver you from this death in life — 
 Strike off your chains, and make your souls your own ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Come unto me all ye that labour ! Ye 
 Whose souls are heavy-laden, come to me, 
 And I will lead you forth by streams that heal, 
 And feed you with the truth that sets men free ! 
 Not from myself, poor souls with fear foredone, 
 Not from myself I have it, but from one 
 At whose approach the lamps of all the wise 
 Fade and go out like stars before the sun. 
 
 1 am the messenger of one that saith 
 
 His saving sentence through my humbler breath : 
 
ON LIFE AND DEATH. 41 
 
 And would you know this gospel's name, 't is this — 
 
 The healing Gospel of Eternal Death. 
 
 A teacher he, the latehet of whose shoe 
 
 I am not worthy stooping to undo : 
 
 And on your aching brows and weary eyes 
 
 His saving sentence shall descend like dew. 
 
 For this is he that dared the almighty foe, 
 
 Lookt up, and struck the Olympian blow for blow, 
 
 And dragged the phantom from his fancied skies — 
 
 The Samian Sage * — the first of those that know. 
 
 Him not the splintered lightnings, nor the roll 
 
 Of thunders daunted. Undismayed his soul 
 
 Rose, and outsoared the thunder, plumbed the abyss, 
 
 And scanned the wheeling worlds from pole to pole ; 
 
 And from the abyss brought back for you and me 
 
 The secret that alone can set men free. 
 
 He showed us how the world and worlds began, 
 
 And what things can, and what things cannot be. 
 
 And as I hear his clarion, I — I too 
 
 See earth and heaven laid open to my view ; 
 
 And lo, from earth and heaven the curse is gone, 
 
 And all the things that are, are born anew. 
 
 Vision divine ! Far off in crystal air, 
 
 What forms are these ? The immortal Gods are there. 
 
 Ay — but what Gods ? Not those that trembling men 
 
 Would bribe with offerings, and appease with prayer. 
 
 Far off they lie, where storm-winds never blow, 
 
 Nor ever storm-cloud moves across the glow ; 
 
 Nor frost of Winter nips them, nor their limbs 
 
 Feel the white fluttering of one plume of snow. 
 
 At ease they dream, and make perpetual cheer 
 
 Far off. From them we nothing have to fear, 
 
 Nothing to hope. How should the calm ones hate ? 
 
 The tearless know the meaning of a tear ? 
 
 We leave, we bless them, in their homes on high. 
 
 No atheist is my master, he, nor I : 
 
 But when I turn and seek the stain of Hell 
 
 Which flames and smokes along the nadir sky, 
 
 Even as I gaze, the ancient shapes of ill 
 
 Flicker and fade. From off the accursed hill 
 
 The huge stone melts. The Ixionian wheel 
 
 1 Epicurus, born 342 B.C. in the island of Samos. 
 
42 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 Rests, and the barkings of the hound are still. 
 
 The damned forbear to shriek, their wounds to bleed, 
 
 The fire to torture, and the worm to feed; 
 
 And stars are glittering through the rift, where once 
 
 The stream went wailing 'twixt its leagues of reed ; 
 
 And all the pageant goes ; whilst I, with awe, 
 
 See in its place the things my master saw ; 
 
 See in its place the three eternal things — 
 
 The only three — atoms and space and law ! 
 
 Hearken, Earth ! Hearken, heavens bereft 
 
 Of your old gods, these ageless Fates are left, 
 
 Who are at once the makers and the made, 
 
 Who are at once the weavers and the weft. 
 
 All things but these arise and fail and fall, 
 
 From flowers to stars — the great things and the small ; 
 
 Whilst the great Sum of things remains the same, 
 
 The all-creating, all-devouring All. 
 
 you who with me, in my master's car, 
 Up from the dens of faith have risen afar, 
 Do you not see at last on yonder height 
 
 A light that burns and beacons like a star ? 
 Do you not sniff the morning in our flight ? 
 The air turns cool, the dusk team turns to white ! 
 Mght's courses catch the morning on their manes; 
 The dews are on the pasterns of the Night. 
 At last we are near the secret, my friend. 
 Patience awhile. We soon shall reach the end — 
 The gospel of the Everlasting Death, 
 Incline your ear to reason and attend. 
 
 III. 
 
 No single thing abides ; but all things flow. 
 Fragment to fragment clings — the things thus grow 
 Until we know and name them. By degrees 
 They melt, and are no more the things we know. 
 Globed from the atoms falling slow or swift 
 
 1 see the suns, I see the systems lift 
 
 Their forms ; and even the systems and the suns 
 
 Shall go back slowly to the eternal drift. 
 
 Thou too, Earth — thine empires, lands and seas — 
 
 Least, with thy stars, of all the galaxies, 
 
 Globed from the drift like these, like those thou too 
 
ON LIFE AND DEATH. 43 
 
 Shalt go. Thou art going, hour by hour, like these ! 
 
 Nothing abides. Thy seas in delicate haze 
 
 Go off ; those mooned sands forsake their place ; 
 
 And where they are, shall other seas in turn 
 
 Mow with their scythes of whiteness other bays. 
 
 Lo, how the terraced towers, and monstrous round 
 
 Of league-long ramparts rise from out the ground, 
 
 With gardens in the clouds ! Then all is gone, 
 
 And Babylon is a memory and a mound. 
 
 Observe this dew-drencht rose of Tyrian grain — 
 
 A rose to-day. But you will ask in vain 
 
 To-morrow what it is ; and yesterday 
 
 It was the dust, the sunshine and the rain. 
 
 This bowl of milk, the pitch on yonder jar, 
 
 Are strange and far-bound travellers come from far. 
 
 This is a snowflake that was once a flame — 
 
 The flame was once the fragment of a star. 
 
 Bound, angular, soft, brittle, dry, cold, warm, 
 
 Things are their qualities : things are their form — 
 
 And these in combination, even as bees, 
 
 Not singly but combined, make up the swarm : 
 
 And when the qualities like bees on wing, 
 
 Having a moment clustered, cease to cling, 
 
 As the thing dies without its qualities, 
 
 So die the qualities without the thing ! 
 
 Where is the coolness when no cool winds blow ? 
 
 Where is the music when the lute lies low ? 
 
 Are not the redness and the red rose one, 
 
 And the snow's whiteness one thing with the snow ? 
 
 Even so, now mark me, here we reach the goal 
 
 Of Science, and in little have the whole — 
 
 Even as the redness and the rose are one, 
 
 So with the body one thing is the soul ! 
 
 Eor, as our limbs and organs all unite 
 
 To make our sum of suffering and delight, 
 
 And, without eyes and ears and touch and tongue, 
 
 Were no such things as taste and sound and sight. 
 
 So without these we all in vain shall try 
 
 To find the thing that gives them unity — 
 
 The thing to which each whispers, " Thou art thou " — 
 
 The soul which answers each, " And I am I." 
 
 What ! shall the dateless worlds in dust be blown 
 
 Back to the unremembered and unknown, 
 
44 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 And this frail Thou — this flame of yesterday — 
 
 Burn on, forlorn, immortal, and alone ? 
 
 Did Nature in the nurseries of the night 
 
 Tend it for this — Nature whose heedless might, 
 
 Like some poor shipwreckt sailor, takes the babe, 
 
 And casts it bleating on the shores of light ? 
 
 What is it there ? A cry is all it is ! 
 
 It knows not if its limbs be yours or his. 
 
 Less than that cry the babe was yesterday. 
 
 The man to-morrow shall be less than this. 
 
 Tissue by tissue to a soul he grows, 
 
 As leaf by leaf the rose becomes the rose. 
 
 Tissue from tissue rots ; and, as the Sun 
 
 Goes from the bubbles, when they burst, he goes ! 
 
 Ah, mark those pearls of Sunrise ! Fast and free 
 
 Upon the waves they are dancing. Souls shall be 
 
 Things that outlast their bodies, when each spark 
 
 Outlasts its wave, each wave outlasts the sea ! 
 
 The seeds that once were we take flight and fly, 
 
 Winnowed to earth, or whirled along the sky, 
 
 Not lost but disunited. Life lives on. 
 
 It is the lives, the lives, the lives that die ! 
 
 They go beyond recapture and recall, 
 
 Lost in the all-indissoluble All : — 
 
 Gone like the rainbow from the fountain's foam, 
 
 Gone like the spindrift shuddering down the squall. 
 
 Makes of the water, on the waters cease. 
 
 Soul of the body, melt and sleep like these, 
 
 Atoms to atoms — weariness to rest — 
 
 Ashes to ashes — hopes and fears to peace ! 
 
 O Science, lift aloud thy voice that stills 
 
 The pulse of fear and through the conscience thrills — 
 
 Thrills through the conscience with the news of peace - 
 
 How beautiful thy feet are on the hills ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Death is for us, then, nothing — a mere name 
 For the mere noiseless ending of a flame. 
 It hurts us not, for there is nothing left 
 To hurt : and as of old, when Carthage came 
 To battle, we and ours felt naught at all, 
 Nor quailed to see city and farm and stall 
 
 
ON LIFE AND DEATH. 45 
 
 Flare into dust, and all our homeless fields 
 Trampled beneath the hordes of Hannibal, 
 But slumbered on and on, nor cared a jot, 
 Deaf to the stress and tumult, though the lot 
 Of things was doubtful, to which lords should fall 
 The rule of all — but we, we heeded not — 
 So when that wedlock of the flesh and mind, 
 Which makes us what we are, shall cease to bind, 
 And mind and flesh, being- mind and flesh no more, 
 Powdered to dust go whistling down the wind, 
 Even as our past was shall our future be ! 
 Others may start and tremble, but not we, 
 Though heaven with the disbanded dust of earth 
 Be dark, or earth be drowned beneath the sea. 
 Why then torment ourselves, and shrink aghast 
 Like timorous children from the great At Last ? 
 For though the Future holds its face averse, 
 See that hid face reflected in the past, 
 As in a shield. Look ! Does some monster seem 
 To threaten there ? Is that the Gorgon's gleam ? 
 What meets your eyes is nothing — or a face 
 Even gentler than a sleep without a dream. 
 And yet — ah, thou who art about to cease 
 From toil and lapse into perpetual peace, 
 Why will the mourners stand about thy bed, 
 And sting thy p ,rting hour with words like these ? 
 
 " Never shalt thou behold thy dear home more, 
 
 Never thy wife await thee at thy door, 
 
 Never again thy little climbing boy 
 
 A father's kindness in thine eyes explore. 
 
 All you have toiled for, all you have loved," they say, 
 
 " Is gone, is taken in a single day ; " 
 
 But never add, " All memory, all desire, 
 
 All love — these likewise shall have passed away." 
 
 Ah ignorant mourners ! Did they only see 
 The fate which Death indeed lays up for thee, 
 How would they sing a different song from this — 
 "Beloved, not thou the sufferer — not thou; but we. 
 Thou hast lost us all ; but thou, redeemed from pain, 
 Shalt sleep the sleep that kings desire in vain. 
 Thou hast left us all; and lo, for us, for us, 
 
46 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 A void that never shall be filled again. 
 
 Not thine, but ours, to see the sharp flames thrust 
 
 Their daggers through the hands we claspt in trust ; 
 
 To see the dear lips crumble, and at last 
 
 To brood above a bitter pile of dust ! 
 
 Not thine, but ours is this ! All pain is fled 
 
 From thee, and we are wailing in thy stead, 
 
 Not for the dead that leave the loved behind, 
 
 But for the living that must lose their dead ! " 
 
 V. 
 
 ye of little faith, who fear to scan 
 The inevitable hour that ends your span, 
 If me you doubt, let Nature find a voice ; 
 And will not Nature reason thus with man ? 
 
 " Fools," she will say, " whose petulant hearts and speech 
 
 Dare to arraign, and long to overreach, 
 
 Mine ordinance — I see two schools of fools. 
 
 Silent be both, and I will speak for each. 
 
 And first for thee, whose whimpering lips complain 
 
 That all Life's wine for thee is poured in vain, 
 
 That each hour spills it like a broken cup — 
 
 Life is for thee the loss and Death the gain ! 
 
 Death shall not mock thee ! Death at last shall slake 
 
 Your life's thirst from a cup that will not break. 
 
 Cease then your mutterings. Drain that wine-cup dry, 
 
 Nor fear the wine ! Why should you wish to wake ? 
 
 And next for thee, who hast eaten and drunk with zest 
 
 At my most delectable table of the best, 
 
 Yet when the long feast ends art loth to go, 
 
 Why not, fool, rise like a sated guest — 
 
 Rise like some guest who has drunk well and deep, 
 
 And now no longer can his eyelids keep 
 
 From closing ; rise and hie thee home to rest 
 
 And enter calmly on the unending sleep ? 
 
 What, will you strive with me, and say me ' No/ 
 
 Like some distempered child ; and whisper low, 
 
 1 Give me but one life more, one hour, to drink 
 One draught of some new sweetness ere I go ?' 
 Oh, three times fool ! For could I only do 
 The impossible thing you ask, and give to you 
 Not one life more, but many, 't were in vain. 
 
 
ON LIFE AND DEATH. 47 
 
 You would find nothing sweet and nothing new. 
 
 Pleasure and power, the friend's, the lover's kiss, 
 
 Would bring you weariness in place of bliss. 
 
 You would turn aside and say, ' I have known them all, 
 
 And am long tired of this, and this, and this.' 
 
 Nature can nothing do she has not done — 
 
 Nature to whom a thousand lives are one : 
 
 And though a thousand lives were yours to endure, 
 
 You would find no new thing beneath the Sun. 
 
 Children of ended joy and ended care, 
 
 I tell you both, take back, take back your prayer ; 
 
 For one life's joys and loves, or one life's load, 
 
 Are all, are all, that one man's bones can bear." 
 
 Such, if the mute Omnipotence were free 
 
 To speak, which it is not, its words would be. 
 
 Could you gainsay them ? Lend your ears once more 3 
 
 Not to the mute Omnipotence, but me ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 For I, if still you are haunted by the fear 
 Of Hell, have one more secret for your ear. 
 Hell is indeed no fable ; but, my friends, 
 Hell and its torments are not there but here ! 
 No Tantalus down below with craven head 
 Cowers from the hovering rock; but here instead 
 A Tantalus lives in each fond wretch who fears 
 An angry God and views the heavens with dread, 
 No Tityos there lies prone and lives to feel 
 The beak of the impossible vulture steal 
 Day after day out of his bleeding breast 
 The carrion of the insatiable meal ! 
 But you and I are Tityos, when the dire 
 Poison of passion turns our blood to fire ; 
 For despised love is crueller than the pit, 
 And bitterer than the vulture's beak desire. 
 Hell holds no Sisyphus who, with toil and pain, 
 Still rolls the huge stone up the hill in vain. 
 But he is Sisyphus who, athirst for power, 
 Fawns on the crowd, and toils and fails to gain 
 The crowd's vile suffrage. What a doom is his — 
 Abased and unrewarded. Is not this 
 Ever to roll the huge stone up the hill, 
 
48 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 And see it still rebounding to the abyss ? 
 
 Oh, forms of fear, oh, sights and signs of woe ! 
 
 The shadowy road down which we all must go 
 
 Leads not to these, but from them. Hell is here, 
 
 Here in the broad day ! Peace is there below ! 
 
 Think yet again, if still your fears protest, 
 
 Think how the dust of this broad road to rest 
 
 Is homely with the feet of all you love, 
 
 The wisest, and the bravest, and the best. 
 
 Ancus has gone before you down that road. 
 
 Scipio, the lord of war, the all-dreaded goad 
 
 Of Carthage, he, too, like his meanest slave, 
 
 Has travelled humbly to the same abode. 
 
 Thither the singers and the sages fare, 
 
 Thither the great queens with their golden hair. 
 
 Homer himself is there with all his songs ; 
 
 And even my mighty Master's self is there. 
 
 There, too, the knees that nurst you, and the clay 
 
 That was a mother once, this many a day 
 
 Have gone. Thither the king with crowned brows 
 
 Goes, and the weaned child leads him on the way. 
 
 Brother and friend, and art thou still averse 
 
 To tread that road ? And will the way be worse 
 
 For thee than them ? Dost thou disdain or fear 
 
 To tread the road of babes and emperors ? 
 
 Is life so sweet a thing, then, even for those 
 
 On whom it smiles in all its bravest shows ? 
 
 See, in his marble hall the proud lord lies, 
 
 And seems to rest, but does not know repose ! 
 
 " Bring me my chariot," to his slaves he cries. 
 
 The chariot comes. With thundering hoof he flies ■ 
 
 Mies to his villa, where the calm arcades 
 
 Prophesy peace, and fountains cool the skies. 
 
 Vain are the calm arcades, the fountain's foam, 
 
 Vain the void solitude he calls a home. 
 
 " Bring me my chariot," like a hunted thing 
 
 He cries once more and thunders back to Rome ! 
 
 So each man strives to flee that secret foe 
 
 Which is himself. But move he swift or slow, 
 
 That Self, forever punctual at his heels, 
 
 Never for one short hour will let him go. 
 
 How, could he only teach his eyes to see 
 
 The things that can, the things that cannot be, 
 
ON LIFE AND DEATH. 49 
 
 He would hail the road by which he shall at last 
 
 Escape the questing monster and be free ! 
 
 He shall escape it even by that same way 
 
 On which Fear whispers him ? t will turn to bay : 
 
 For on that road the questing monster dies 
 
 Like a man's shadow on a sunless day. 
 
 Brother and friend, this life brings joy and ease 
 
 And love to some, to some the lack of these — 
 
 Only the lack ; to others tears and pain ; 
 
 But at the last it brings to all the peace 
 
 That passes understanding. Sweet, thrice sweet 
 
 This healing gospel of the unplumbed retreat, 
 
 Where, though not drinking, we shall no more thirst, 
 
 And meeting not, shall no more wish to meet. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Thy wife, thy home, the child that climbed thy knee, 
 
 Are sinking down like sails behind the sea." 
 
 Breathe to the dying this ; but breathe as well 
 
 " All love for these shall likewise pass from thee." 
 
 Brother, if I should watch their last light shine 
 
 In those loved eyes, those dying ears of thine 
 
 Should hear me murmur what, when my hour comes, 
 
 I would some friend might murmur into mine. 
 
 Kest, rest, perturbed bosom — heart forlorn, 
 
 With thoughts of ended joys and evil borne, 
 
 And — worse — of evil done ; for they, like thee, 
 
 Shall rest — those others thou hast made to mourn. 
 
 Even if there lurk behind some veil of sky 
 
 The fabled Maker, the immortal Spy, 
 
 Beady to torture each poor life he made, 
 
 Thou canst do more than God can — thou canst die. 
 
 Will not the thunders of thy God be dumb 
 
 When thou art deaf forever ? Can the Sum 
 
 Of all things bruise what is not ? Nay — take heart; 
 
 For where thou goest thither no God can come ! 
 
 Kest, brother, rest ! Have you done ill or well, 
 
 Best, rest ! There is no God, no Gods who dwell 
 
 Crowned with avenging righteousness on high, 
 
 Nor frowning ministers of their hate in Hell. 
 
 None shall accuse thee, none shall judge; for lo, 
 
 Those others have forgotten long ago : 
 
50 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 And all thy sullied drifts of memory 
 
 Shall lie as white, shall lie as cold as snow : 
 
 And no vain hungering for the joys of yore 
 
 Gone with the vanisht sunsets, nor the sore 
 
 Torn in your heart by all the ills you did, 
 
 Nor even the smart of those poor ills you bore ; 
 
 And no omnipotent wearer of a crown 
 
 Of righteousness, nor fiend with branded frown, 
 
 Swart from the flame, shall break or reach your rest, 
 
 Or stir your temples from the eternal down. 
 
 Flakes of the water, on the waters cease ! 
 
 Soul of the body, melt and sleep like these. 
 
 Atoms to atoms — weariness to rest. 
 
 Ashes to ashes — hopes and fears to peace ! 
 
 — Paraphrase of William H. Mallock. 
 
 ADDBESS TO VENUS. 
 
 Great Venus ! Queene of Beautie and of grace, 
 
 The joy of Gods and men, that under skie 
 Dost fayrest shine, and most adorne thy place ; 
 That with thy smyling looke doest pacifie 
 The raging seas and makst the stormes to flie : 
 
 Thee, Goddess, thee the winds, the clouds do f eare ; 
 And when thou spredst thy mantle forth on hie 
 The waters play, and pleasant lands appear, 
 And heavens laugh, and al the world shews joyous cheare. 
 
 Then doth the daedale earth throw forth to thee 
 
 Out of her f ruitf ull lap abundant flowres ; 
 And then all living wights, soone as they see 
 The Spring break forth out of his lusty bowres, 
 They all doe learne to play the Paramours ; 
 
 First doe the merry birds, thy prety pages, 
 Privily priked with thy lustful! powres, 
 Chirpe loud to thee out of their leavy cages 
 And thee their mother call to coole their kindly rages. 
 
 Then doe the salvage beasts begin to play 
 
 Their pleasant friskes, and loath their wonted food ; 
 
FREEDOM OF THOUGHT. 51 
 
 The Lyons rore ; the Tygres loudly bray ; 
 The raging Buls 'rebellow through the wood, 
 And breaking forth dare tempt the deepest flood 
 
 To come where thou doest draw them with desire. 
 So all things else, that nourish vitall blood, 
 Soone as with fury thou doest them inspire 
 In generation seeke to quench their inward fire. 
 
 So all the world by thee at first was made, 
 
 And dayly yet thou doest the same prepayre : 
 Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad, 
 Ne ought on earth that lovely is and fayre 
 But thou the same for pleasure didst prepayre : 
 
 Thou art the root of all that joyous is : 
 Great God of men and women, queene of the air, 
 Mother of laughter and welspring of blisse, 
 O graunt that of my love at last I may not misse ! 
 
 — Paraphrase of Edmund Spenser. 
 
 FKEEDOM OF THOUGHT. 
 
 When human life a shame to human eyes 
 Lay sprawling in the mire in foul estate, 
 
 A cowering thing without the strength to rise, 
 Held down by fell Religion's heavy weight — 
 
 Beligion scowling downward from the skies, 
 With hideous head, and vigilant eyes of hate — 
 
 First did a man of Greece presume to raise 
 
 His brows and give the monster gaze for gaze. 
 
 Him not the tales of all the Gods in heaven, 
 
 Nor the heaven's lightnings nor the menacing roar 
 
 Of thunder daunted. He was only driven 
 By these vain vauntings to desire the more 
 
 To burst through Nature's gates and rive the unriven 
 Bars. And he gained the day ; and, conqueror, 
 
 His spirit broke beyond our world and past 
 
 Its flaming walls, and fathomed all the vast. 
 
 And back returning, crowned with victory, he 
 Divulged of things the hidden mysteries, 
 
52 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 Laying quite bare what can and cannot be, 
 
 How to each force is set strong boundaries, 
 How no power raves unchained ; and now Eeligion lies 
 Trampled by us ; and unto us ? t is given 
 Fearless with level gaze to scan the heaven. 
 
 Yet fear I lest thou hapty deem that thus 
 We sin and enter wicked ways of reason. 
 
 Whereas 'gainst all things good and beauteous 
 'T is oft Religion does the foulest treason. 
 
 Has not the tale of Aulis come to us 
 
 And those great chiefs who, in the windless season, 
 
 Bade young Tphianassa's form be laid 
 
 Upon the altar of the Trivian maid ? 
 
 Soon as the fillet round her virgin hair 
 
 Fell in its equal lengths down either cheek, — 
 
 Soon as she saw her father standing there, 
 Sad, by the altar, without power to speak, 
 
 And at his side the murderous minister, 
 
 Hiding the knife, and many a faithful Greek 
 
 Weeping — her knees grew weak, and with no sound 
 
 She sank, in speechless terror, on the ground. 
 
 But naught availed it in that hour accurst 
 To save the maid from such a doom as this, 
 
 That her lips were the baby lips that first 
 
 Called the King father with their cries and kiss. 
 
 For round her came the strong men, and none durst 
 Eefuse to do what cruel part was his ; 
 
 So silently they raised her up, and bore her 
 
 All quivering, to the deadly shrine before her. 
 
 And as they bore her, ne'er a golden lyre 
 Eang round her coming with a bridal strain ; 
 
 But in the very season of desire, 
 
 A stainless maiden, amid bloody stain 
 
 She died — a victim felled by its own sire — 
 
 That so the ships the wisht-for winds might gain 
 
 And air puff out their canvas. Learn thou, then, 
 
 To what damned deeds Eeligion urges men. 
 
 — Translation of William H. Mallock. 
 
THE TORCH OF EXISTENCE. 53 
 
 THE TOBCH OF EXISTENCE. 
 From Book II. 
 
 Sweet, when the great sea's water is stirred to his depths 
 by the storm winds, 
 
 Standing ashore to descry one af ar-off" mightily struggling : 
 
 Not that a neighbour's sorrow to you yields dulcet enjoy- 
 ment; 
 
 But that the sight hath a sweetness, of ills ourselves are 
 exempt from. 
 
 Sweet 'tis too to behold, on a broad plain mustering, war- 
 hosts 
 
 Arm them for some great battle, one's self unscathed by 
 the danger ! — 
 
 Yet still happier this : — To possess, impregnably guarded, 
 
 Those calm heights of the sages, which have for an origin 
 Wisdom ; 
 
 Thence to survey our fellows, observe them this way and 
 that way 
 
 Wander amidst Life's paths, poor stragglers seeking a 
 highway : 
 
 Watch mind battle with mind, and escutcheon rival es- 
 cutcheon ; 
 
 Gaze on that untold strife, which is waged 'neath the sun 
 and the starlight, 
 
 Up as they toil on the surface whereon rest Riches and 
 Empire. 
 O race born unto trouble! O minds all lacking of 
 eyesight ! 
 
 'Neath what a vital darkness, amidst how terrible dangers, 
 
 Move ye through this thing, Life, this fragment ! Fools, 
 that ye hear not 
 
 Nature clamour aloud for the one thing only ; that, all 
 pain 
 
 Parted and past from the Body, the Mind, too, bask in a 
 blissful 
 
 Dream, all fear of the future and all anxiety over ! 
 
 Now, as regards Man's Body, a few things only are 
 needful 
 
 (Few, though we sum up all), to remove all misery from 
 him; 
 
5-4 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 Ay, and to strew in his path such a liberal carpet of 
 
 pleasures, 
 That scarce Nature herself would at times ask happiness 
 
 ampler. 
 Statues of youth and of beauty may not gleam golden 
 
 around him 
 (Each in his right hand bearing a great lamp lustrously 
 
 burning, 
 Whence to the midnight revel a light may be furnished 
 
 always) ; 
 Silver may not shine softly, nor gold blaze bright, in his 
 
 mansion, 
 Nor to the noise of the tabret his halls gold-corniced 
 
 echo : — 
 Yet still he, with his fellow, reposed on the velvety green- 
 sward, 
 Near to a rippling stream, by a tall tree canopied over, 
 Shall, though they lack great riches, enjoy all bodily pleas- 
 ure. 
 Chiefliest then, when above them a fair sky smiles, and 
 
 the young year 
 Flings with a bounteous hand over each green meadow 
 
 the wild-flowers : — 
 Not more quickly depart from his bosom fiery fevers, 
 "Who beneath crimson hangings and pictures cunningly 
 
 broidered 
 Tosses about, than from him who must lie in beggarly 
 
 raiment. 
 
 Therefore, since to the Body avail not Eiches, avails 
 
 not 
 Heraldry's utmost boast, nor the pomp and the pride of 
 
 an empire ; 
 Next shall you own, that the Mind needs likewise nothing 
 
 of these things. 
 Unless — when, perad venture, your armies over the 
 
 champaign 
 Spread with a stir and a ferment, and bid War's image 
 
 awaken, 
 Or when with stir and with ferment a fleet sails forth 
 
 upon Ocean — 
 Cowed before these brave sights, pale Superstition 
 
 abandon 
 
THE TORCH OF EXISTENCE. 55 
 
 Straightway your mind as you gaze, Death seem no longer 
 
 alarming, 
 Trouble vacate your bosom, and Peace hold holiday in 
 
 you. 
 But, if (again) all this be a vain impossible fiction ; 
 If of a truth men's fears, and the cares which hourly 
 
 beset them, 
 Heed not the javelin's fury, regard not clashing of broad- 
 swords ; 
 But ail-boldly amongst crowned heads and the rulers of 
 
 empires 
 Stalk, not shrinking abasht from the dazzling glare of the 
 
 red gold, 
 Not from the pomp of the monarch, who walks forth 
 
 purple-apparelled : 
 These things show that at times we are bankrupt, surely, 
 
 of Beason ; 
 Think too that all Man's life through a great Dark 
 
 laboureth onward. 
 For, as a young boy trembles, and in that mystery, 
 
 Darkness, 
 Sees all terrible things : so do we too, ev'n in the day- 
 light, 
 Ofttimes shudder at that, which is not more really 
 
 alarming 
 Than boys' fears, when they waken, and say some danger 
 
 is o'er them. 
 So this panic of mind, these clouds which gather 
 
 around us, 
 Fly not the bright sunbeam, nor the ivory shafts of the 
 
 Day-star : 
 Nature, rightly revealed, and the Beason only, dispel 
 
 them. 
 
 Now, how moving about do the prime material atoms 
 Shape forth this thing and that thing ; and, once shaped, 
 
 how they resolve them ; 
 What power says unto each, This must be ; how an 
 
 inherent 
 Elasticity drives them about Space vagrantly onward ; 
 I shall unfold: thou simply give all thyself to my 
 teaching. 
 Matter mingled and massed into indissoluble union 
 
56 TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS. 
 
 Does not exist. For we see how wastes each separate 
 
 substance ; 
 So flow piecemeal away, with the lengthening centuries, 
 
 all things, 
 Till from our eye by degrees that old self passes, and is 
 
 not. 
 Still Universal Nature abides unchanged as aforetime. 
 Whereof this is the cause. When the atoms part from 
 
 a substance, 
 That suffers loss; but another is elsewhere gaining an 
 
 increase : 
 So that, as one thing wanes, still a second bursts into 
 
 blossom, 
 Soon, in its turn, to be left. Thus draws this Universe 
 
 always 
 Gain out of loss ; thus live we mortals one on another. 
 Bourgeons one generation, and one fades. Let but a few 
 
 years 
 Pass, and a race has arisen which was not : as in a race- 
 course, 
 One hands on to another the burning torch of Existence. 
 — Translation of Charles Stuart Calverly. 
 
CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Catullus, the most elegant of the lyric poets of Rome, 
 was born at or near Verona, about 87 b.c. He inherited 
 considerable property, which, when he went to Rome, and 
 was received into the fashionable fast set, he proceeded to 
 squander. In the year 62 Metellus Celer as praetor had 
 his residence in Verona, and was accompanied by his wife 
 Clodia, a woman of thirty-two, brilliant and profligate, 
 herself a poet and acquainted with Greek letters. Catul- 
 lus either there or in Eome became intimate with her 
 and addressed to her a series of passionate love-poems, 
 through which may be traced the rise, progress, and 
 decay of his adoration. This affair lasted some four 
 years, until at least 57, when the final rupture with his 
 " Les bia " occurred, and he went with Memmius to Bithy- 
 nia, where he hoped to repair his shattered fortunes. In 
 this he was disappointed, if one may judge by a poem 
 which he wrote concerning his experiences. During his 
 absence his beloved brother Hortalus died, and he recorded 
 his grief in a beautiful elegy. During the last three years 
 of his short life he lived mostly at his country homes 
 either at Sirmio, a promontory extending into what is now 
 known as the Lago di Garda, or at Tibur, not far from 
 Eome. Nothing is known of the exact date of his death ; 
 some authorities give 54, others 47. His poems were lost 
 until the fourteenth century, when two manuscripts were 
 discovered in Verona. They consist of one hundred and 
 sixteen pieces, many of them brief, others extending to a 
 length of four hundred lines. Besides the love-poems 
 addressed to " Lesbia," there are bits of fierce satire and 
 charming descriptions, mythological and fanciful, in vary- 
 ing metres. A complete edition of the original, with 
 verse translations by Sir Richard Burton and prose ren- 
 derings by Leonard C. Smithers, was privately published 
 in 1894. The " Lesbia " poems, translated and arranged 
 in plausible sequence by J. H. A. Tremenheere, were 
 issued in 1897. Sir Theodore Martin also translated all 
 
 57 
 
58 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 of Catullus. Single poems have been versified or imitated 
 by many modern poets. 
 
 Tennyson commemorates his address to his brother and 
 his residence at Sirmio in one of his most beautiful and 
 melodious poems : — 
 
 " Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row ! 
 So they rowed, and there we landed — ' venusta Sirmio ! ' 
 There to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow, 
 There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow, 
 Came that ' Ave atque Vale ' of the Poet's hopeless woe, 
 Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago, 
 1 Frater Ave atque Vale ' — as we wandered to and fro, 
 Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the Garda Lake below, 
 Sweet Catullus 1 all-but-island, olive-silvery Sirmio 1 " 
 
 THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 
 I. 
 
 ADDRESS TO LESBIA. 
 
 Him rival to the gods I place, 
 
 Him loftier yet, if loftier be, 
 Who, Lesbia, sits before thy face, 
 
 Who listens and who looks on thee ; 
 
 Thee smiling soft. Yet this delight 
 Doth all my sense consign to death ; 
 
 For when thou dawnest on my sight, 
 
 Ah wretched ! flits my labouring breath ; * 
 
 My tongue is palsied. Subtly hid 
 
 Fire creeps me through from limb to limb : 
 
 My loud ears tingle all unbid : 
 
 Twin clouds of night mine eyes bedim ! 
 
 Ease is thy plague ; ease makes thee void, 
 Catullus, with these vacant hours, 
 
 And wanton : ease, that hath destroyed 
 
 Great kings and states with all their powers ! 
 — Translation of William Ewart Gladstone. 
 
 1 To fill up a gap in meter and sense presented by the Latin, Glad- 
 stone borrowed from an ode of Sappho. 
 
THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 59 
 
 II. 
 
 A COMPARISON. 
 
 Most beautiful in many eyes 
 
 Is Quinctia, and in mine 
 Her shape is tall, and straight withal, 
 
 And her complexion fine. 
 
 These single charms of form and face 
 
 I grant that she can show ; 
 But all the concentrated grace 
 
 Of " beautiful," oh, no ! 
 
 For nowhere in her can you find 
 
 That subtle, voiceless art — 
 That something which delights the mind, 
 
 And satisfies the heart. 
 
 But Lesbia 's beautiful, I swear; 
 
 And for herself she stole 
 The charms most rare of every fair, 
 
 To frame a perfect whole. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodoee Martin. 
 
 III. 
 
 LESBIA OBDURATE. 
 
 For what woe 
 I bare of the wily Cyprian queen you know, 
 And how she wrought me, kindling my desire 
 Hot as Thermopylae or iEtna's fire. 
 My eyes, grown sad with weeping oft-renewed, 
 Forever melted, all my cheeks bedewed 
 With melancholy rain. 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
60 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 LOVE ACCEPTED. 
 
 E'en as from aery heights of mountain springeth a 
 
 springlet 
 Limpedest leaping forth from rocking felted with moss, 
 Then having headlong rolled the prone-laid valley down- 
 pouring, 
 Populous region amid wendeth his gradual way, 
 Sweetest solace of all to the sweltering traveller way- 
 worn, 
 Whenas the heavy heat fissures the fiery fields ; 
 Or, as to seamen lost in night of whirlwind a-glooming 
 Gentle of breath there comes fairest and favouring breeze, 
 Pollux anon being prayed, nor less vows offered to Cas- 
 tor: — 
 Such was the aidance to us Manius pleased to afford. 
 He to my narrow domains far wider limits laid open, 
 He too gave me the house, also he gave me the dame, 
 She upon whom both might exert them, partners in love- 
 deeds. 
 Thither graceful of gait pacing my goddess white-hued 
 Came and with gleaming foot on the worn sole of the 
 
 threshold 
 Stood she and prest its slab creaking her sandals the 
 
 while ; 
 E'en so with love enflamed in olden days to her help- 
 mate, 
 Laodamia the home Protesilean besought, 
 Sought, but in vain, for ne'er wi' sacrificial bloodshed 
 Victims appeased the Lords ruling Celestial seats : 
 Never may I so joy in aught (Rhamnusian Virgin ! ) 
 That I engage in deed maugre the will of the Lords. . . . 
 Worthy of yielding to her in naught or ever so little 
 Came to the bosom of us she, the fair light of my life, 
 Bound whom fluttering oft the Love-God hither and 
 
 thither 
 Shone with a candid sheen robed in his safnower dress. 
 She though never she bide with one Catullus contented, 
 Yet will I bear with the rare thefts of my dame the dis- 
 creet, 
 
THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 61 
 
 Lest over-irk I give which still of fools is the fashion. 
 Often did Juno eke Queen of the Heavenly host 
 Boil wi' the rabidest rage at dire default of a husband 
 Learning the manifold thefts of her omnivolent Jove. . . . 
 Yet was she never to me by hand paternal committed 
 Whenas she came to my house reeking Assyrian scents ; 
 Nay, in the darkness of night her furtive favours she 
 
 deigned me, 
 Self-willed taking herself from very mate's very breast. 
 Wherefore I hold it enough since given to us and us 
 
 only 
 Boon of that day with Stone whiter than wont she 
 
 denotes. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Richard Burton. 
 
 TO LESBIA'S SPARROW. 
 
 Sparrow ! my nymph's delicious pleasure. 
 Who with thee, her pretty treasure, 
 Fanciful in frolic plays 
 Thousand, thousand wanton ways ; 
 And fluttering, lays to panting rest 
 On the soft orbings of her breast ; 
 Thy beak with finger-tip incites 
 And dallies with thy becks and bites ; 
 When my beauty, my desire, 
 Feels her darling whim inspire, 
 With nameless triflings such as these 
 To snatch, I trow, a tiny ease 
 For some keen fever of the breast, 
 While passion toys itself to rest ; 
 I would that happy lady be, 
 And so in pastime sport with thee 
 And lighten love's soft agony. 
 The sweet resource were bliss untold, 
 Dear as that apple of ripe gold 
 Which, by the nimble virgin found, 
 Unloost the zone that had so fast been bound ! 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
62 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF LESBlA's SPARROW. 
 
 Loves and Graces mourn with me — 
 
 Mourn, fair youths, where'er ye be ! 
 
 Dead my Lesbia's sparrow is — 
 
 Than her very eyes more dear ; 
 
 For he made her dainty cheer, 
 
 Knew her well, as any maid 
 
 Knows her mother ; never strayed 
 
 From her bosom, but would go 
 
 Hopping round her, to and fro ; 
 
 And to her, and her alone, 
 
 Chirrupt with such pretty tone. 
 
 Now he treads that gloomy track 
 
 Whence none ever may come back. 
 
 Out upon you, and your power, 
 
 Which all fairest things devour, 
 
 Orcus' gloomy shades, that e'er 
 
 Ye took my bird that was so fair ! 
 
 Ah, the pity of it ! Thou 
 
 Poor bird, thy doing 't is, that now 
 
 My loved one's eyes are swollen and red 
 
 With weeping for her darling dead. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 On Septimius' lap entwining, 
 While his Acme sank reclining ; 
 " If I love thee not," he cried, 
 " my Acme ! my bride ! 
 Even to perdition love thee, 
 And shall feel thy beauties move me, 
 As the rapid years roll by, 
 Like men, who love distractedly ; 
 Then, where Afric sands are spread, 
 Or India's sun flames overhead, 
 
THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 63 
 
 May a lion cross me there, 
 
 With his green-eyed angry glare." 
 
 Love stood listening in delight, 
 And sneezed his auspice on the right. 
 
 Acme, as her lover said, 
 Lightly bending back her head, 
 And with lips of ruby skimming 
 His tipsy eyes in pleasure swimming ; 
 " Septimillus ! darling mine ! 
 So may we thus ever entwine, 
 Victims vowed at Cupid's shrine, 
 As, with still more keen requitals, 
 Thou art felt within my vitals ! " 
 
 Love stood listening in delight, 
 And sneezed his auspice on the right. 
 
 In the heavenly omen blest, 
 They love, caressing and carest ; 
 The poor youth would lightlier prize 
 Syria's groves than Acme's eyes ; 
 Acme centres in the boy 
 All her longings, all her joy ; 
 Who more bless'd has mortals seen ? 
 When has a kinder passion been ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 LIVE AND LOVE. 
 
 We '11 live and love, my Lesbia, thou and I, 
 Not caring one brass-farthing (currency), 
 
 If aged scandal-mongers spread a tale, 
 Or if the strait-laced Puritans say " Fie ! " 
 "The sun dies," yes ! to rise in death's despite ; 
 But thou and I, when once the little light 
 
 Of our two lives is set, must sleep alway 
 The eternal sleep of one eternal night. 
 
 — Translation of A. E. Crawley. 
 
64 CAWS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 UNNUMBERED KISSES. 
 
 How many kisses showered on thee 
 Were plenty and to spare for me ? 
 
 Oh, count the Libyan sands that girt 
 Cyrene, land of laserwort, 
 From horrid Ammon's voice of doom 
 To hoary Battus' holy tomb. 
 
 Count stars at hush of night that spy 
 When lovers meet clandestinely. 
 
 So many kisses plenty were 
 For fond Catullus and to spare, 
 Beyond the count of prying eyes 
 Or evil tongues' malignities ! 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
 X. 
 
 TO BEAUTIFUL EYES. 
 
 Oh, if I thine eyes might kiss, 
 And my kisses were not crimes, 
 
 I would snatch that honeyed bliss 
 Full three hundred thousand times ! 
 
 Nor should these a surfeit bring, 
 
 Not though that sweet crop should yield 
 
 Kisses far outnumbering 
 
 Corn-ears in the harvest-field. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
 XI. 
 
 a poet's supper. 
 
 Soon shalt thou feast, Fabullus mine, 
 At my house — should the gods incline — 
 If thou wilt only fetch with thee 
 
THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 65 
 
 A good big generous dinner — see ? 
 
 And bring a lively girl and wine 
 
 And salt of wit and gayety. 
 
 If all these things thou It bring or send 
 
 Thou shalt feast well, my charming friend ! 
 
 For thy Catullus' fortune ebbs : 
 
 His face is full of spiders' webs. 
 
 But thou shalt have — and this is fair — 
 
 Love unadulterate, no end, 
 
 Or something still more rich and rare : 
 
 With thee an unguent I will share 
 
 Which Venuses and Cupids blend 
 
 For my dear girl ! When she bestows 
 
 This sweetness on thee and it glows 
 
 On thy olfactories, thou wilt pray 
 
 The Gods, Fabullus : " From this day 
 
 Oh, make me nothing but a nose ! " 
 
 — N. H. D. 
 
 XII. 
 
 A REFLEX COMPLIMENT. 
 
 The daintiest nose — eyes black of hue — 
 Feet shapely — fingers tapering too — 
 No slobbery lips — a tongue that is 
 Fastidious even to excess — 
 Pray which of all these points doth stamp 
 Your mistress of the Formian scamp ? 
 I make you, child, my humble duty. 
 Is ? t you the Province calls a beauty ? 
 Our Lesbia is compared with you ? 
 Ah, foolish world and tasteless too. 
 
 — Paraphrase of J. H. A. Trembnheerb. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 AFTER A QUARREL. 
 
 Why rave, Catullus, passion-tost? 
 
 What 's dead and gone, why, count as lost. 
 
 Once brightly shone the sun o'erhead, 
 
66 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 You fluttering where your lady led 
 Beloved as shall again be none ! 
 Then many a merry thing was done 
 That you desired nor she forbade ; 
 Now she forbids, desire were folly ; 
 Seek not what flies ! Hang melancholy ! 
 Be cold and hard and cold and harder still. 
 Catullus hardens : sweet, farewell ! 
 He '11 woo you not against your bent. 
 But, naughty one, you '11 soon repent 
 When no one comes at night to woo. 
 What sort of life is left for you ? 
 Uncourted, unadmired, without 
 Some one to love, to be teased about, 
 To kiss, to bite i' the lip ? 
 
 But you, 
 Catullus, harden through and through. 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Teemenheeee. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 REFUTING A SLANDER. 
 
 Do you think I could slander my Life, 
 Who is dearer than both of my eyes ? 
 Oh, no ! If I could, I should never 
 Consume with such passionate fever. 
 But whenever a horror is rife, 
 ? T is you and the Sot give it rise. 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Teemenheeee. 
 
 XV. 
 
 LOVE DETECTED. 
 
 Lesbia does nothing else but flout me, 
 She cannot hold her tongue about me ! 
 Then hang me, but she loves me dearly ! 
 What proof ? My own behaviour clearly : 
 For I attack her just as stoutly, 
 Yet hang me ! her I love devoutly. 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Teemenheeee, 
 
 
THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 67 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ADDITIONAL PROOFS. 
 
 Lesbia heaps upon me foul words, her spouse being 
 
 present ; 
 Which to that simple soul causes the fullest delight. 
 Mule ! naught sensest thou : did she forget us in 
 
 silence, 
 Whole she had been ; but now whatso she rails and she 
 
 snarls, 
 Not only dwells in her thought, but worse and even more 
 
 risky, 
 Wrathful she bides : which means, she is afire and she 
 
 fumes ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Richard Burton. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 RECONCILIATION". 
 
 When he who longs and sighs, 
 
 Though hope has fled, 
 Stumbles upon the prize, 
 
 Oh, joy indeed ! 
 Such joy is mine, that thou, 
 
 Dearer than gold, 
 Lesbia, reseekest now 
 
 Thy love of old ; 
 Thyself reseek'st my love 
 
 When hope had fled ! 
 O day all days above, 
 
 Be honored ! 
 Who happier lives than I ? 
 
 Or who shall say 
 That life can give more joy, 
 
 Than mine to-day ? 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
68 CAWS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A PERPETUAL VOW. 
 
 My Life, you swear this love of ours 
 Shall pleasant and perpetual be ! 
 Fulfil her promise, Heavenly Powers, 
 And grant it honest, frank, and free ! 
 That all our lives be ordered by 
 This league of solemn amity. 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 on woman's inconstancy. 
 
 My mistress says, there 's not a man 
 Of all the many that she knows, 
 
 She 'd rather wed than me, not one, 
 Though Jove himself were to propose. 
 
 She says so ; — but what woman says 
 To him who fancies he has caught her, 
 
 'T is only fit it should be writ 
 In air or in the running water. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
 XX. 
 
 LOVE IN RUINS. 
 
 Lesbia ! you used to say you were 
 
 Catullus' own ; 
 To me not Jove would you prefer, 
 
 And thereupon 
 I loved you as no mistress mere, 
 
 But as a son 
 Or daughter's husband is held dear — 
 
 Now you are known ! 
 And though my passion 's livelier 
 
 And fiercer grown, 
 
THE HISTORY OF A PASSION. 69 
 
 More vile and worthless you appear — 
 
 The wrong you 've done 
 May make Desire to wanton freer, 
 
 But lays Love prone ! 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
 XXL 
 
 LOVE ILL-REQUITED. 
 
 Such, love as woman never won 
 
 Was, Lesbia ! mine for thee ; 
 Such truth as never league had known 
 
 Thy love had found in me ! 
 
 My heart, by falseness now repelled, 
 
 Yet vain with passion strives ; 
 Turn honest, yet esteem were killed, 
 
 Be vile, yet love survives ! 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE LAST AGONY. 
 
 I love and hate. Ah, never ask why so ! 
 I hate and love — and that is all I know. 
 I see 't is folly, but I feel ? t is woe ! 
 
 — Paraphrase of Walter Savage Landor. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 RENUNCIATION. 
 
 To treasure thoughts of kindness shown 
 And feel no duty left undone, — 
 No outraged faith, no league of love 
 Betrayed in mock appeal to Jove — 
 If this be pleasure, many a joy, 
 Catullus, waits you by and by 
 Prom this ungrateful love ! By you 
 All kindly things to say or do 
 
70 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Were said and done ; — all to no good 
 
 Offered to such ingratitude. 
 
 Why further rack yourself ? O borrow 
 
 Strength for withdrawal yet more thorough, 
 
 And grieve not Heaven by wooing Sorrow ! 
 
 >T is hard at once old love to quell. 
 
 'T is hard, but you must do it still. 
 
 This is your only chance of life ; 
 
 Victor you must be in this strife. 
 
 If mortal can, this you shall do — 
 
 Ay, even though he cannot too ! 
 
 O God ! if Thine be pity — if Thou 
 
 E'en in the jaws of death ere now 
 
 Hast wrought salvation — look on me, 
 
 And if my life seem fair to Thee, 
 
 tear this plague, this curse away 
 Which, gaining on me day by day, 
 A creeping, slow paralysis, 
 
 Hath driven away all happiness. 
 
 1 ask Thee not that she return 
 
 My love, nor that she yet may yearn 
 For Purity — oh, that were vain ! 
 I pray but to be well again, 
 Quit of this foul disease. O bless 
 Thus, thus, God ! my duteousness ! 
 
 — Translation of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 HIS LAST FAREWELL TO LESBIA. 
 
 Comrades ! whom I can trust to stand by me 
 
 Whether I pierce to India's further shore, 
 
 Where beats the surf and thunders evermore ; 
 
 Whether where Nile discolours all the sea 
 
 Seven-mouthed ; or yonder airy Alps transcend 
 
 To meditate on things memorial, 
 
 Of Caesar's greatness in the Rhine-swept Gaul, 
 
 And savage Britain where the world hath end; 
 
 Ready with me to dare what Heaven shall will ! 
 
 This bitter cry bear her I loved of yore ; — 
 
 " Ah, shameless, shameless lust ! Sweet, seek no more 
 
A FIB DETECTED. 71 
 
 To win back love ; by thine own fault it fell ; 
 In the far corner of the field though hid 
 Toucht by the plough at last, — the flower is dead ! " 
 — Paraphrase of J. H. A. Tremenheere. 
 
 A FIB DETECTED. 
 
 Varus, whom I chanced to meet 
 
 The other evening in the street, 
 
 Engaged me there, upon the spot, 
 
 To see a mistress he had got. 
 
 She seemed, as far as I can gather, 
 
 Lively and smart and handsome rather. 
 
 There, as we rested from our walk, 
 
 We entered into various talk — 
 
 As, how much might Bithynia bring ? 
 
 And had I found it a good thing ? 
 
 I answered, as it was the fact, 
 
 The province had been stript and sackt ; 
 
 That there was nothing for the praetors, 
 
 And still less for us wretched creatures, 
 
 His poor companions and toad-eaters. 
 
 "At least," says she, "you bought some fellows 
 
 To bear your litter ; for they tell us, 
 
 Our only good ones come from there." 
 
 I chose to give myself an air ; 
 
 " Why, truly, with my poor estate, 
 
 The difference was n't quite so great 
 
 Betwixt a province, good or bad, 
 
 That where a purchase could be had, 
 
 Eight lusty fellows, straight and tall, 
 
 I should n't find the wherewithal 
 
 To buy them." But it was a lie ; 
 
 Eor not a single wretch had I — 
 
 No single cripple fit to bear 
 
 A broken bedstead or a chair. 
 
 She, like a strumpet, pert and knowing, 
 
 Said — " Dear Catullus, I am going 
 
 To worship at Serapis' shrine — 
 
 Do lend me, pray, those slaves of thine." 
 
 I answered — " It was idly said, — 
 
72 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 They were a purchase Cinna made 
 (Caius Cinna, my good friend) — 
 It was the same thing in the end, 
 Whether a purchase or a loan — 
 I always used them as my own ; 
 Only the phrase was inexact — 
 He bought them for himself in fact. 
 But you have caught the general vice 
 Of being too correct and nice, 
 Overcurious and precise ; 
 And seizing with precipitation 
 The slight neglects of conversation." 
 
 — Translation of J. Hookham Frere. 
 
 ADIEU TO BITHYNIA. 
 
 Now Spring his cooly mildness brings us back, 
 
 Now the equinoctial heaven's rage and wrack 
 
 Hushes at hest of Zephyr's bonny breeze. 
 
 Far left (Catullus ! ) to the Phrygian leas 
 
 And summery Nicaea's fertile downs : 
 
 Fly we to Asia's fame-illumined towns. 
 
 Now lust my fluttering thoughts for wayfare long, 
 
 Now my glad eager feet grow steady, strong. 
 
 fare ye well, my comrades, pleasant throng, 
 
 Ye who together far from homesteads flying, 
 
 By many various ways come homeward hieing. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Richard Burton. 
 
 A WELCOME HOME. 
 
 Dearest of all, Yerannius ! my friend ! 
 
 Hast thou come back from thy long pilgrimage, 
 With brothers twain in soul thy days to spend, 
 
 And by thy hearth-fire cheer thy mother's age ? 
 
 And art thou truly come ? Oh, welcome news ! 
 
 And I shall see thee safe, and hear once more 
 Thy tales of Spain, its tribes, its feats, its views, 
 
 Flow as of old from thy exhaustless store. 
 
TO HIS PINNACE. 73 
 
 And I shall gaze into thine eyes again ! 
 
 And I again shall fold thee to ray breast ! 
 Oh, you who deem yourselves most blest of men, 
 
 Which of you all like unto me is blest ? 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
 TO THE ISLAND OF SIEMIO. 
 
 Gem of all isthmuses and isles that lie, 
 Fresh or salt water's children, in clear lake 
 Or ampler ocean : with what joy do I 
 
 Approach thee, Sirmio ! Oh ! am I awake, 
 Or dream that once again mine eye beholds 
 Thee, and has looked its last on Thracian wolds ? 
 
 Sweetest of sweets to me that pastime seems, 
 When the mind drops her burden : when — the pain 
 Of travel past — our own cot we regain, 
 
 And nestle on the pillow of our dreams ! 
 'T is this one thought that cheers us as we roam. 
 
 Hail, O fair Sirmio ! Joy, thy lord is here ! 
 
 Joy too, ye waters of the Golden Mere ! 
 And ring out, all ye laughter-peals of home ! 
 
 — Translation of Charles Stuart Calverlt. 
 
 TO HIS PINNACE. 
 
 Yon pinnace, friends, now hauled ashore, 
 Boasts that for speed none ever more 
 Excelled, or 'gainst her could avail 
 In race of oars, or eke with sail. 
 This, she avers, nor Adria's bay 
 Nor Cyclad isles will dare gainsay — 
 Fierce Thrace, or Ehodes of ample fame, 
 Or Pontus with ill-omened name ; 
 Where whilom it, a pinnace now, 
 Was a maned tree on mountain-brow : 
 Yea, from its mane on tall Cy torus 
 Soft music sighed in breeze sonorous. 
 Whose box-clad heights, Amastris too, 
 Avouch this origin as true ; 
 
74 CAWS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 And witness what my pinnace vows, 
 It first saw light on yonder brows — 
 First dipt its oars in neighbouring sea, 
 And then through wild waves carried me, 
 Its master, in its stanch, smart craft, 
 Breeze foul or fair, or wind right aft. 
 No calls to gods of sea or shore 
 She lifted ; and, the voyage o'er, 
 From farthest tracts of brine, to rest, 
 Came to our smooth lake's placid breast. 
 'T is over now. Her mission done, 
 Here she enjoys a rest well won, 
 And dedicates her timbers here 
 To Castor and to Castor's peer. 
 
 — Translation of James Davies. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF HIS BEOTHEE HOETALUS. 
 
 Albeit care that consumes, with dule assiduous grieving, 
 
 Me from the learned Maids, Hortalus ! ever seclude, 
 Nor can avail sweet births of the Muses thou to deliver 
 Thought of my mind ; (so much floats it on flooding of 
 ills : 
 For that the Lethe- wave upsurging of late from abysses, 
 
 Laved my brother's foot, paling with pallor of death, 
 He whom the Trojan soil, Ehoetean shore underlying, 
 Buries forever and aye, forcibly snatcht from our 
 sight. . . . 
 I can address ; no more shall I hear thee tell of thy 
 doings, 
 Say, shall I never again, brother all liefer than life, 
 Sight thee henceforth ? But I will surely love thee forever, 
 Ever what songs I sing saddened shall be by thy death ; 
 Such as the Daulian bird 'neath gloom of shadowy frondage 
 
 Warbles of Itys lost ever bemoaning the lot ! ) . 
 Yet amid grief so great to thee my Hortalus, send I 
 
 These strains sung to a mode borrowed from Battiades ; 
 Lest shouldest weet of me thy words, to wandering wind- 
 gusts 
 Vainly committed, perchance forth of my memory 
 flowed — 
 
ON THE BURIAL OF HIS BROTHER. 75 
 
 As did that apple sent for a furtive giftie by wooer, 
 In the chaste breast of the Maid hidden a-sudden out- 
 sprang ; 
 For did the hapless forget when in loose-girt garment it 
 lurked, 
 Forth would it leap as she rose, scared by her mother's 
 approach, 
 And while coursing headlong, it rolls far out of her 
 keeping, 
 O'er the triste virgin's brow flushes the conscious 
 blush. . . . 
 
 Troy (ah, curst be the name !), common tomb of Asia and 
 Europe, 
 Troy, to sad ashes that turned valour and valorous men ! 
 Eke to our brother beloved, destruction lamented 
 
 Brought she : brother for aye lost unto wretchedest 
 me, 
 Oh, to thy wretchedmost brother lost the light of his life- 
 tide, 
 Buried together wi' thee lieth the whole of our house : 
 Perisht along wi' thyself forthright all joys we enjoyed, 
 Douce joys fed by thy love during the term of our days ; 
 Who now art tombed so far nor mid familiar pavestones, 
 Nor wi' thine ashes stored near to thy kith and thy kin, 
 But in that Troy obscene, that Troy of ill-omen, entombed 
 Holds thee, an alien earth-buried in uttermost bourne. 
 — Translation of Sir Kichard Burton. 
 
 ON THE BUKIAL OF HIS BROTHER. 
 
 By ways remote and distant waters sped, 
 
 Brother, to thy sad graveside am I come, 
 That I may give the last gifts to the dead, 
 
 And vainly parley with thine ashes dumb ; 
 Since She who now bestows and now denies 
 
 Hath ta'en thee, hopeless brother, from mine eyes. 
 But lo ! these gifts, the heirlooms of past years, 
 
 Are made sad things to grace thy coffin-shell, 
 Take them, all drenched with a brother's tears, 
 
 And, brother, for all time, hail and farewell. 
 
 — Translation of Aubrey Beardsley. 
 
76 CAWS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 HYMN TO DIANA. 
 
 Diana guardeth our estate, 
 Girls and boys immaculate : 
 Boys and maidens pure of stain, 
 Be Diana our refrain. 
 
 Latonia, pledge of love 
 Glorious to most glorious Jove, 
 Near the Delian olive-tree 
 Latonia gave thy life to thee, 
 
 That thou should st be forever queen 
 Of mountains and of forests green ; 
 Of every deep glen's mystery ; 
 Of all streams and their melody : 
 
 Women in travail ask their peace 
 From thee, our Lady of Release : 
 Thou art the Watcher of the Ways 
 Thou art the Moon with borrowed rays ; 
 
 And as thy full or waning tide 
 Marks how the monthly seasons glide, 
 Thou, Goddess, sendest wealth of store 
 To bless the farmer's thrifty floor ! 
 
 Whatever name delights thine ear, 
 By that name be thou hallowed here ; 
 And as of old be good to us, 
 The lineage of Romulus ! 
 
 — Translation of Richard Claverhouse Jebb. 
 
 THE WEDDING SONG OF VINIA AND 
 MANLIUS. 
 
 INVOCATION TO HYMEN. 
 
 You that from the mother's side 
 Lead the lingering, blushing bride, 
 Fair Urania's son — 
 
WEDDING SONG OF VIM A AND MAN LIU S. 77 
 
 Leave awhile the lonely mount, 
 The haunted grove and holy fount 
 Of chilling Helicon. 
 
 With myrtle wreaths enweave thy hair — 
 Wave the torch aloft in air — 
 
 Make no long delay : 
 With flowing robe and footsteps light, 
 And gilded buskins glancing bright, 
 
 Hither bend thy way ! 
 
 Join at once, with airy vigour, 
 In the dance's varied figure, 
 
 To the cymbal's chime : 
 Frolic unrestrained and free — 
 Let voice and air and verse agree, 
 
 And the torch beat time. 
 
 Hymen, come, for Vinia 
 Weds with Manlius to-day, 
 
 And deigns to be a bride ! 
 Such a form as Venus wore 
 In the contest famed of yore, 
 
 On Mount Ida's side ; 
 
 Like the myrtle or the bay, 
 Florid, elegant and gay, 
 
 With foliage fresh and new ; 
 Which the nymphs and forest-maids 
 Have fostered in sequestered shades, 
 
 With drops of holy dew ! 
 
 Leave, then, all the rocks and cells, 
 Of the deep Aonian dells, 
 
 And the caverns hoar ; 
 And the dreary streams that weep 
 From the stony Thespian steep, 
 
 Dripping evermore. 
 
 Haste away to new delights, 
 To domestic happy rites, 
 
 Human haunts and ways ; 
 With a kindly charm applied, 
 Soften and appease the bride, 
 
 And shorten our delays ! 
 
78 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Bring her hither, bound to move, 
 Drawn and led with bands of love ! 
 
 Like the tender twine 
 Which the searching ivy plies, 
 Clinging in a thousand ties 
 
 O'er the clasping pine ! 
 
 THE HYMENEAL HYMN. 
 
 Gentle virgins, you besides, 
 Whom the like event betides, 
 
 With the coming year ; 
 Call on Hymen ! call him now ! 
 Call aloud ! A virgin now 
 
 Best befits his ear I 
 
 "Is there any deity 
 
 More beloved and kind than he — 
 
 More disposed to bless ; 
 Worthy to be worshipt more ; 
 Master of a richer store 
 
 Of wealth and happiness ? 
 
 " Youth and age alike agree, 
 Serving and adoring thee, 
 
 The source of hope and care : 
 Care and hope alike engage 
 The wary parent sunk in age 
 
 And the restless heir. 
 
 " She, the maiden, half -afraid, 
 Hears the new proposal made, 
 
 That proceeds from thee ; 
 You resign and hand her over 
 To the rash and hardy lover 
 
 With a fixt decree. 
 
 " Hymen, Hymen, you preside, 
 Maintaining honour and the pride 
 
 Of women free from blame, 
 With a solemn warrant given, 
 Is there any power in heaven 
 
 That can do the same ? 
 
WEDDING SONG OF VINIA AND MANLIUS. 79 
 
 " Love, accompanied by thee, 
 Passes unreproved and free, 
 
 But without thee, not : 
 Where on earth or in the sky 
 Can you find a deity 
 
 With a fairer lot? 
 
 " Heirship in an honoured line 
 Is sacred as a gift of thine, 
 
 But without thee, not : 
 Where on earth or in the sky 
 Can you find a deity 
 
 With a fairer lot ? 
 
 Rule and empire — royalty, 
 
 Are rightful as derived from thee, 
 
 But without thee, not : 
 Where on earth or in the sky 
 Can you find a deity 
 
 With a fairer lot?" 
 
 WAITING FOR THE BRIDE. 
 
 Open locks ! unbar the gate ! 
 Behold the ready troop that wait 
 
 The coming of the bride ; 
 Behold the torches, how they flare, 
 Spreading aloft their sparkling hair, 
 
 Mashing far and wide ! 
 
 Lovely maiden ! here we waste 
 
 The timely moments ; come in haste. 
 
 Come then. . . . Out, alack ! 
 Startled at the glare and din, 
 She retires to weep within, 
 
 Lingering, hanging back ! 
 
 Bashful honour and regret 
 For a while detain her yet, 
 
 Lingering, taking leave : 
 Taking leave and lingering still, 
 With a slow, reluctant will, 
 
 With grief that does not grieve ! 
 
80 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Aurunculeia, cease your tears, 
 
 And when to-morrow's morn appears, 
 
 Fear not that the sun 
 Will dawn upon a fairer face, — 
 Nor in his airy, lofty race 
 
 Behold a lovelier one ! 
 
 Mark and hear us, gentle bride ; 
 Behold the torches nimbly plied, 
 
 Waving here and there ; 
 Along the street and in the porch, 
 See the fiery-tressed torch 
 
 Spreads its sparkling hair ! 
 
 Like a lily, fair and chaste, 
 Lovely bride, you shall be placed 
 
 In a garden gay, 
 A wealthy lord's delight and pride ; 
 Come away then, happy bride, 
 
 Hasten, hence away ! 
 
 Mark and hear us — he your lord, 
 Will be true at bed and board, 
 
 Nor ever walk astray, 
 Withdrawing from your lovely side ; 
 Mark and hear us, gentle bride, 
 
 Hasten, hence away ! 
 
 Like unto a tender vine, 
 
 He shall ever clasp and twine, 
 
 Clinging night and day, 
 Fairly bound and firmly tied ; 
 Come away, then, happy bride, 
 
 Hasten, come away ! 
 
 Make ready ! There I see within 
 The bride is veiled ; the guests begin 
 
 To muster close and slow : 
 Trooping onward close about, 
 Boys, be ready with a shout — 
 
 " Hymen ! Hymen ! Ho ! " 
 
WEDDING SONG OF VINIA AND MANLIUS. 81 
 
 THE PEOCESSION. 
 
 Now begins the free career, — 
 For many a jest and many a jeer, 
 
 And many a merry saw ; 
 Customary taunts and gibes, 
 Such as ancient use prescribes, 
 
 And immemorial law. 
 
 Some at home, it must be feared, 
 Will be slighted and cashiered, 
 
 Pride will have a fall ; 
 Now the favourites' reign is o'er, 
 Proud enough they were before, — 
 
 Proud and nice withal ! 
 
 Pull of pride and full of scorn ; 
 Now you see them dipt and shorn, 
 
 Humbler in array ; 
 Sent away, for fear of harm, 
 To the village or the farm — 
 
 Packt in haste away ! 
 
 Other doings must be done, 
 Another empire is begun, 
 
 Behold your own domain ! 
 Gentle bride ! Behold it there ! 
 The lordly palace proud and fair : - 
 
 You shall live and reign 
 
 In that rich and noble house, 
 
 Till age shall silver o'er the brows. 
 
 And nod the trembling head, 
 Not regarding what is meant, 
 Incessant uniform assent 
 
 To all that 's done or said ! 
 
 Let the faithful threshold greet, 
 With omens fair, those lovely feet, 
 
 Lightly lifted o'er ; 
 Let the garlands wave and bow 
 Prom that lofty lintel's brow 
 
 That bedeck the door ! 
 
82 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 THE "WEDDING SUPPER. 
 
 See the couch, with crimson dress — 
 Where, seated in the deep recess, 
 
 With expectation warm, 
 The bridegroom views her coming near, 
 The slender youth that led her here 
 
 May now release her arm ! 
 
 With a fixt intense regard 
 He beholds her close and hard 
 
 In awful interview : 
 Shortly now she must be sped 
 To the chamber and the bed, 
 
 With attendance due. 
 
 Let the ancient worthy wives 
 
 That have passed their constant lives 
 
 With a single mate, 
 As befits advised age, 
 With council and precaution sage 
 
 Assist and regulate. 
 
 She, the mistress of the band, 
 Comes again with high command, 
 
 " Bridegroom, go your way ; 
 There your bride is in the bower, 
 Like a lovely lily flower, 
 
 Or a rose in May ! 
 
 " Ay, and you yourself in truth 
 Are a goodly proper youth, 
 
 Proper, tall and fair; 
 Venus and the Graces too 
 Have befriended each of you 
 
 For a lovely pair ! " 
 
 Fear not ! with the coming year, 
 The new Torquatus will be here, 
 
 Him we soon shall see 
 With infant gesture fondly seek 
 To reach his father's manly cheek, 
 
 From the mother's knee ! 
 
PICTURES. 83 
 
 With laughing eyes and dewy lip 
 Pouting like the purple tip 
 
 That points the rose's bud ; 
 While mingled with the mother's grace, 
 Strangers shall recognize the trace 
 
 That marks the Manlian blood. 
 — Translation of John Hookham Frere. 
 
 PICTURES. 
 "The Marriage of Peleus and Thetis." 
 
 THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 Pine-trees gendered whilom upon soaring summit 
 Swam (as the tale is told) through liquid surges of Neptune 
 Par as the Phasis-flood and frontier-land iEetean ; 
 Whenas the youths elect, of Argive vigour the oak-heart 
 Longing the Golden Fleece of the Colchis-region to harry, 
 Dared in a poop swift-paced to span salt seas and their 
 
 shallows, 
 Sweeping the deep blue seas with sweeps a-carven of fir- 
 wood. 
 She, that governing Goddess of citadels crowning the 
 
 cities, 
 Builded herself their car fast-flitting with lightest of 
 
 breezes, 
 Weaving plants of the pine conjoined in curve of the 
 
 kelson ; 
 Poremost of all to imbue rude Amphitrite with ship-lore. 
 Soon as her beak had burst through wind-rackt spaces 
 
 of ocean, 
 While the oar-tortured wave with spumy whiteness was 
 
 blanching, 
 Surged from the deep abyss and hoar-capt billows the 
 
 faces 
 Seaborn, Nereids eying the prodigy wonder- smitten. 
 There too mortal orbs through softened splendours regarded 
 Ocean-nymphs who exposed bodies denuded of raiment 
 Pare to the breast upthrust from hoar froth capping the 
 
 sea-depths. 
 
84 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Then Thetis Peleus fired (men say) a-sudden with love- 
 lowe, 
 
 Then Thetis nowise spurned to mate and marry wi' mortal, 
 
 Then Thetis' sire himself her yoke with Peleus sanc- 
 tioned. 
 Oh, in those happier days now fondly yearned for, ye 
 heroes 
 
 Born (all hail !) of the gods begotten, and excellent issue 
 
 Bred by your mothers, all hail, and placid deal me your 
 favour. 
 
 Oft wi' the sound of me, in strains and spells I '11 invoke 
 you; 
 
 Thee too by wedding-torch so happily, highly augmented, 
 
 Peleus, Thessaly's ward, whom unto Jupiter's self deigned 
 
 Yield of the freest gree his loves though gotten of God- 
 heads. 
 
 Thee, Thetis, fairest of maids Nereian, vouchsafed to 
 marry ? 
 
 Thee did Tethys empower to woo and wed with her 
 grandchild ; 
 
 Nor less Oceanus, with water compassing the Earth-globe ? 
 
 But when ended the term, and wisht-for light of the day- 
 tide 
 
 Uprose, flocks to the house in concourse mighty convened, 
 
 Thessaly all, with glad assembly the Palace fulfilling : 
 
 Presents afore they bring, and joy in faces declare they. 
 
 Scyros desert abides : they quit Phthiotican Tempe, 
 
 Homesteads of Crannon-town, eke bulwarkt walls of 
 Larissa ; 
 
 Meeting at Pharsalus and roof Pharsalian seeking. 
 
 None will the fields now till ; soft wax all necks of the 
 oxen, 
 
 Never the humble vine is purged by curve of the rake- 
 tooth, 
 
 Never a pruner's hook thins out the shade of the tree- 
 tufts, 
 
 Never a bull up-ploughs broad glebe with bend of the 
 coulter, 
 
 Over whose point unuse displays the squalor of rust-stain. 
 
 But in the homestead's heart, where'er that opulent palace 
 
 Hides a retreat, all shines with splendour of gold and of 
 silver. 
 
 Ivory blanches the seats, bright gleam the flagons a-table, 
 
PICTURES. 85 
 
 All of the mansion joys in royal riches and grandeur. 
 
 But for the Diva's use bestrewn is the genial bedstead, 
 
 Hidden in midmost stead, and its polisht framework of 
 Indian 
 
 Tusk underlies its cloth empurpled by juice of the dye- 
 shell. 
 
 THE WEDDING COVERLET. 
 
 This be a figured cloth with forms of manhood primeval, 
 Showing by marvel-art the gifts and graces of heroes. 
 Here upon Dia's strand wave-resonant, ever-regarding 
 Theseus borne from sight outside by fleet of the fleetest, 
 Stands Ariadne with heart full-filled with furies unbated, 
 Nor can her sense as yet believe she 'spies the espied, 
 When like one that awakes new roused from slumber 
 
 deceptive, 
 Sees she her hapless self lone left on loneliest sand-bank : 
 While as the mindless youth with oars disturbeth the 
 
 shallows, 
 Casts to the windy storms what vows he vainly had vowed. 
 Him through the sedges afar the sad-eyed maiden of 
 
 Minos, 
 Likest a Bacchant-girl stone-carven, (0 her sorrow !) 
 Spies a-tossing the while on sorest billows of love-care. 
 Now no more on her blood-hued hair fine fillets retains 
 
 she, 
 No more now light veil conceals her bosom erst hidden, 
 Now no more smooth zone contains her milky-hued pap- 
 lets: 
 All gear dropping adown from every part of her person 
 Thrown, lie fronting her feet to the briny wavelets a 
 
 sea-toy. 
 But at such now no more of her veil or her fillet a-floating 
 Had she regard : on thee, Theseus ! all of her heart- 
 strength, 
 All of her sprite, her mind forlorn, were evermore hang- 
 ing. 
 Ah, sad soul, by grief and grievance driven beside thee, 
 Sowed Erycina first those brambly cares in thy bosom, 
 What while issuing fierce with will enstarkened, Theseus 
 Forth from the bow-bent shore Pirsean putting a-seawards 
 Reacht the Gortynian roofs where dwelt the injurious 
 Monarch. 
 
86 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 For *t was told of yore how forced by pestilence cruel, 
 Eke as a bloody rite due for the Androgeonian murder, 
 Many a chosen youth and the bloom of damsels unmarried 
 Food for the Minotaur, Cecropia was wont to bef urnish. 
 Seeing his narrow walls in such wise vexed with evils, 
 Theseus of freest will for dear-loved Athens his body 
 Offered a victim so that no more to Crete be deported 
 Lives by Cecropia doomed to burials burying nowise ; 
 Then with a swifty ship and soft-breathed breezes a-stir- 
 
 ring, 
 Sought he Minos the haughty where homQd in proudest 
 
 of mansions. 
 Him as with yearning glance forthright espied the royal 
 Maiden whom pure chaste couch aspiring delicate odours 
 Cherisht, in soft embrace of a mother comforted all-whiles, 
 (E'en as the myrtles begot by the flowing floods of Eurotas, 
 Or as the tincts distinct brought forth by breath of the 
 
 spring-tide) 
 Never the burning lights of her eyes from gazing upon 
 
 him 
 Turned she, before fierce flame in all her body conceived 
 
 she 
 Down in its deepest depths and burning amiddle her 
 
 marrow. 
 Ah, with unmitigate heart exciting wretchedmost furies, 
 Thou, Boy sacrosanct ! man's grief and gladness com- 
 mingling, 
 Thou too of G-olgos Queen and Lady of leafy Idalium, 
 Whelmed ye in what manner waves that maiden fantasy- 
 fired, 
 All for a blond-haired youth suspiring many a singulf ! 
 Whiles how dire was the dread she dreed in languishing 
 
 heart-strings ; 
 How yet more, ever more, with golden splendour she paled ! 
 Whenas yearning to mate his might wi' the furious mon- 
 ster 
 Theseus braved his death or sought the prizes of praises. 
 Then of her gifts to gods not ingrate, nor profiting nothing 
 Promise with silent lip, addressed she timidly vowing. 
 For as an oak that snakes on the topmost summit of 
 
 Taurus 
 Its boughs, or cone-growing pine from bole bark resin 
 exuding, 
 
PICTURES 87 
 
 Whirlwind of passing might that twists the stems with 
 its storm-blasts, 
 
 Uproots, deracinates, forthright its trunk to the farthest, 
 
 Prone falls, shattering wide what lies in line of its 
 downfall, — 
 
 Thus was that wildling flung by Theseus and vanquisht 
 of body, 
 
 Vainly tossing its horns and goring the wind to no pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Thence with abounding praise returned he, guiding his 
 footsteps, 
 
 Whiles did a fine drawn thread check steps in wander 
 abounding, 
 
 Lest when issuing forth of the winding maze labyrinthine 
 
 Baffled become his track by inobservable error. 
 
 But for what cause should I, from early subject digress- 
 ing, 
 
 Tell of the daughter who the face of her sire unseeing, 
 
 Eke her sister's embrace nor less her mother's endear- 
 ments, 
 
 Who in despair bewept her hapless child that so gladly 
 
 Chose before every and each the lively wooing of 
 Theseus? 
 
 Or how borne by the ship to the yeasting shore-line of 
 Dia 
 
 Came she? or how when bound her eyes in bondage of 
 slumber 
 
 Left her that chosen mate with mind unmindful depart- 
 ing? 
 
 Often (they tell) with heart inflamed by fiery fury 
 
 Poured she shrilling of shrieks from deepest depths of 
 her bosom ; 
 
 Now would she sadly scale the broken faces of moun- 
 tains, 
 
 Whence she might overglance the boundless boiling of 
 billows ; 
 
 Then would she rush to bestem the salt-plain's quivering 
 wavelet 
 
 And from her ankles bare the dainty garment uplifting, 
 
 Spake she these words ('t is said) from sorrow's deepest 
 abysses, 
 
 Whiles from her tear-drencht face outburst cold shivering 
 singulfs. 
 
88 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 MEDEA'S LAMENT. 
 
 " Thus fro' my patrial shore, traitor, hurried to exile, 
 
 Me on a lonely strand hast left, perfidious Theseus? 
 
 Thus wise farest, despite the godhead of Deities spurned, 
 
 (Reckless, alas!) to thy home convoying perjury-curses? 
 
 Naught then, ever availed that mind of crudest counsel 
 
 Alter ? No saving grace in thee was evermore ready, 
 
 That to have pity on me vouchsafed thy pitiless bosom ? 
 
 Natheless not in past time such were the promises wordy 
 
 Lavished ; nor such hopes to me the hapless were bidden; 
 
 But the glad married joys, the longed-for pleasures of 
 wedlock. 
 
 All now empty and vain, by breath of the breezes bescat- 
 tered ! 
 
 Now, let woman no more trust her to man when he 
 sweareth, 
 
 Ne'er let her hope to find or truth or faith in his plead- 
 ings, 
 
 Who whenas lustful thought forelooks to somewhat at- 
 taining, 
 
 Never an oath they fear, shall spare no promise to 
 promise. 
 
 Yet no sooner they sate all lewdness and lecherous fancy, 
 
 Nothing remember of words and reck they naught of fore- 
 swearing. 
 
 Certes, thee did I snatch from midmost whirlpool of 
 ruin 
 
 Deadly, and held it cheap loss of a brother to surfer 
 
 Rather to fail thy need (0 false !) at hour the supremest. 
 
 Therefor my limbs are doomed to be torn of birds, and of 
 ferals 
 
 Prey, nor shall upheapt Earth afford a grave to my body ! 
 
 Say me, what lioness bare thee 'neath lone rock of the 
 desert? 
 
 What sea spued thee conceived from out the spume of his 
 surges ? — 
 
 What manner Syrt, what ravening Scylla, what vasty 
 Charybdis ? 
 
 Thou who for sweet life saved such meeds art lief of 
 returning ! 
 
 If never willed thy breast with me to mate thee in mar- 
 riage, 
 
PICTURES. 89 
 
 Hating the savage law decreed by primitive parent, 
 
 Still of your competence 't was within your household to 
 home me, 
 
 Where I might serve as a slave in gladsome service fa- 
 miliar, 
 
 Laving thy snow-white feet in clearest crystalline waters 
 
 Or with its purpling gear thy couch in company strewing. 
 
 Yet for what cause should I plain in vain to the winds 
 that unknow me, 
 
 (I so beside me with grief !) which ne'er of senses en- 
 dued 
 
 Hear not the words sent forth nor aught avail they to 
 answer ? 
 
 Now be his course well-nigh engaged in midway of ocean, 
 
 Nor any mortal shape appears in barrens of sea-wrack. 
 
 Thus at the latest hour with insults over-sufficient 
 
 E'en to my plaints fere Fate begrudges ears that would 
 hear me ! 
 
 Jupiter ! Lord of all-might, oh, would in days that are 
 bygone 
 
 Ne'er had Cecropian poops toucht ground at Gnossian fore 
 shore, 
 
 Nor to the unconquered Bull that tribute direful convey- 
 ing 
 
 Had the false Seaman bound to Cretan island his hawser, 
 
 Nor had yon evil wight, 'neath shape the softest hard 
 purpose 
 
 Hiding, enjoyed repose within our mansion beguested ! 
 
 Whither can wend I now ? what hope lends help to the 
 lost one? 
 
 Idomenean mounts shall I scale ? Ah, parted by whirl- 
 pools 
 
 Widest, yon truculent main where yields it power of 
 passage ? 
 
 Aid of my sire can I crave? Whom I willing aban- 
 doned, 
 
 Treading in tracks of a youth bewrayed with blood of a 
 brother ! 
 
 Can I console my soul wi' the helpful love of a helpmate 
 
 Who flies me with pliant oars, flies overbounding the sea- 
 depths ? 
 
 Nay, an this Coast I quit, this lone isle lends me no roof- 
 tree, 
 
90 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Nor aught issue allows begirt by billows of Ocean : 
 Nowhere is path for flight ; none hope shows ; all things 
 
 are silent; 
 All be a desolate waste; all makes display of destruc- 
 tion! 
 Yet never close these eyne in latest languor of dying, 
 Ne'er from my wearied frame a forth slow-ebbing my 
 
 senses, 
 Ere from the Gods just doom implore I, treason-betrayed, 
 And with my breath supreme firm faith of Celestials 
 
 invoke I. 
 Therefore, ye who 'venge man's deed with penalties 
 
 direful, 
 Eumenides ! aye wont to bind with viperous hair-locks 
 Foreheads, — oh, deign outspeak fierce wrath from bosom 
 
 outbreathing, 
 Hither, oh hither speed, and lend ye all ear to my griev- 
 ance, 
 Which now sad I (alas !) outpour from innermost vitals 
 Maugre my will, sans help, blind, fired with furious mad- 
 ness ! 
 And as indeed all spring from veriest core of my bosom, 
 Suffer ye not the cause of grief and woe to evanish ; 
 But wi' the Will wherewith could Theseus leave me in 
 
 loneness 
 Goddesses ! bid that Will lead him, lead his, to destruc- 
 tion!" 
 
 THE DEATH OF iEGEUS. 
 
 E'en as she thus poured forth these words from anguish 
 of bosom, 
 
 And for this cruel deed, distracted, sued she for ven- 
 geance, 
 
 Nodded the Euler of Gods Celestial, matchless of All- 
 might, 
 
 When at the gest earth-plain and horrid spaces of ocean 
 
 Trembled, and every sphere rockt stars and planets re- 
 splendent. 
 
 Meanwhile Theseus himself, obscured in blindness of 
 darkness 
 
 As to his mind, dismist from his breast oblivious all 
 things 
 
 Erewhile enjoined and held thereto in memory constant, 
 
PICTURES. 91 
 
 Nor for his saddened sire the gladness-signals up- 
 hoisting 
 
 Heralded safe return within sight of the Erechthean 
 harbour. 
 
 For 't was told of yore, when from the walls of the 
 Virginal Deess 
 
 iEgeus speeding his son, to the care of the breezes com- 
 mitted, 
 
 Thus with a last embrace to the youth spake words of 
 commandment : — 
 
 "Son! far nearer my heart (sole thou) than life of the 
 longest, 
 
 Son, I perforce dismiss to doubtful, dangerous chances, 
 
 Lately restored to me when eld draws nearest his ending. 
 
 Sithence such fortune in me, and in thee such boiling of 
 valour 
 
 Tear thee away from me so loath, whose eyne in their 
 languor 
 
 Never are sated with sight of my son, all dearest of 
 figures. 
 
 Nor will I send thee forth with joy that gladdens my 
 bosom, 
 
 Nor will suffer thee show boon signs of favouring Fortune, 
 
 But fro' my soul I '11 first express an issue of sorrow, 
 
 Soiling my hoary hairs with dust and ashes commingled ; 
 
 Then will I hang stained sails fast-made to the wavering 
 yard-arms, 
 
 So shall our mourning thought and burning torture of 
 spirit 
 
 Show by the dark sombre dye of Iberian canvas spread. 
 
 But, an grant me the grace Who dwells in Sacred Itone 
 
 (And our issue to guard and ward the seats of Erechtheus 
 
 Sware She) that be thy right besprent with blood of the 
 Man-Bull, 
 
 Then do thou so-wise act, and stored in memory's heart- 
 core 
 
 Dwell these mandates of me, no time their traces untrac- 
 ing. 
 
 Dip, when first shall arise our hills to gladden thy eye- 
 glance, 
 
 Down from thine every mast the ill-omened vestments of 
 mourning, 
 
 Then let the twisten ropes upheave the whitest of canvas, 
 
92 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Wherewith splendid shall gleam the tallest spars of the 
 top-mast, 
 
 These seeing sans delay with joy exalting my spirit 
 
 Well shall I wot Time sets thee returning before me." 
 
 Such were the mandates which stored at first in memory 
 constant 
 
 Faded from Theseus' mind like mists, compelled by the 
 whirlwind, 
 
 Fleet from aerial crests of mountains hoary with snow- 
 drifts. 
 
 But as the sire had sought the citadel's summit for out- 
 look, 
 
 Wasting his anxious eyes with tear-floods evermore 
 flowing, 
 
 Forthright e'en as he saw the sail-gear darkened with 
 dye-stain 
 
 Headlong himself flung he from the sea-cliff's pinnacled 
 summit 
 
 Holding his Theseus lost by doom of pitiless Fortune. 
 
 Thus as he came to his home funest, his roof-tree 
 paternal, 
 
 Theseus (vaunting the death,) what dule to the maiden 
 of Minos 
 
 Dealt with unminding mind so dreed he similar dolour, 
 
 She too gazing in grief at the kelson vanishing slowly, 
 
 Self-wrapt, manifold cares revolved in spirit perturbed. . , 
 
 EMBROIDERY OF THE COVERLET. 
 
 But from the farther side came flitting bright-faced 
 
 Iacchus 
 Girded by Satyr-crew and Nysa-reared Sileni 
 Burning wi' love unto thee (Ariadne !) and greeting thy 
 
 presence. . . . 
 Who flocking eager to fray did rave with infuriate 
 
 spirit, 
 " Evoe' " f renzying loud, with heads at " Evoe " rolling. 
 Brandisht some of the maids their thyrsi sheathed of 
 
 spear-point, 
 Some snatcht limbs and joints of sturlings rended to 
 
 pieces, 
 These girt necks and waists with writhing bodies of 
 
 vipers, 
 
PICTURES. 93 
 
 Those wi' the gear enwombed in crates dark orgies 
 ordained — 
 
 Orgies that ears profane must vainly lust for o'erhear- 
 ing — 
 
 Others with palms on high smote hurried strokes on the 
 cymbal, 
 
 Or from the polisht brass woke thin-toned tinkling music, 
 
 While from the many there boomed and blared hoarse 
 blasts of the horn-trump, 
 
 And with its horrid skirl loud shrilled the barbarous bag- 
 pipe, 
 
 Showing such varied forms, that richly decorate couch- 
 cloth 
 
 Folded in strait embrace the bedding drapery-veiled. 
 
 THE DIVINE GUESTS. 
 
 This when the Thessalian youths had eyed with eager 
 inspection 
 
 Fulfilled, place they began to provide for venerate God- 
 heads, 
 
 Even as Zephyrus' breath, seas couching placid at dawn- 
 tide, 
 
 Eoughens, then stings and spurns the wavelets slantingly 
 fretted — 
 
 Rising Aurora the while 'neath Sol the wanderer's 
 threshold — 
 
 Tardy at first they flow by the clement breathing of 
 breezes 
 
 Urged, and echo the shores with soft-toned ripples of 
 laughter, 
 
 But as the winds wax high so waves wax higher and 
 higher, 
 
 Flashing and floating afar to outswim moon's purpurine 
 splendours, — 
 
 So did the crowd fare forth, the royal vestibule leaving, 
 
 And to the house each wight with vaguing paces departed. 
 
 After their wending, the first, foremost from Pelion's 
 summit, 
 
 Chiron came to the front with woodland presents sur- 
 charged : 
 
 Whatso of blooms and flowers bring forth Thessalian 
 uplands 
 
94 CAWS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Mighty with, mountain crests whatever of riverine lea 
 
 flowers 
 Beareth Favonius' air, bud-breeding, tepidly breathing, 
 All in his hands brought he, unseparate in woven gar- 
 lands, 
 Whereat laughed the house as soothed by pleasure of 
 
 perfume. 
 Presently Peneus appears, deserting verdurous Tempe — 
 Tempe, girt by her belts of greenwood ever impending, 
 Left for the Mamonides with frequent dances to worship ; 
 Nor is he empty of hand, for bears he tallest of beeches 
 Deracinate, and bays with straight boles lofty and stately, 
 Not without nodding plane-tree nor less the flexible 
 
 sister 
 Eire-slain Phaeton left, and not without cypresses airy. 
 These in a line wide-broke set he, the Mansion surrounding, 
 So by the soft leaves screened, the porch might flourish 
 
 in verdure. 
 Follows hard on his track with active spirit Prometheus 
 Bearing extenuate sign of penalties suffered in bygones, 
 Paid erewhiles what time fast-bound as to every member, 
 Hung he in carcanet slung from the Scythian rock-tor. 
 Last did the Father of Gods with his sacred spouse and 
 
 his offspring, 
 Proud from the Heavens proceed, thee leaving (Phcebus) 
 
 in loneness, 
 Lone wi' thy sister twin who haunteth mountains of 
 
 Idrus : 
 For that the Virgin spurned as thou the person of Peleus, 
 Nor Thetis' nuptial torch would greet by act of her 
 
 presence. 
 When they had leaned their limbs upon snowy benches 
 
 reposing, 
 Tables largely arranged with various viands were gar- 
 
 nisht. 
 But, ere opened the feast, with infirm gesture their 
 
 semblance 
 Shaking the Parcse fell to chanting veridique verses. 
 Robed were their tremulous frames all o'er in muffle of 
 
 garments 
 Bright-white, purple of hem enfolding heels in its edges ; 
 Snowy the fillets that bound heads aged by many a year- 
 tide, 
 
PICTURES. 95 
 
 And as their wont aye was, their hands plied labour 
 unceasing. 
 
 Each in her left upheld with soft fleece clothed a distaff, 
 
 Then did the right that drew forth thread with upturn of 
 fingers 
 
 Gently fashion the yarn which deftly twisted by thumb- 
 ball 
 
 Speeded the spindle poised by thread-whorl perfect of 
 polish ; 
 
 Thus as the work was wrought, the lengths were trimmed 
 wi' the fore-teeth, 
 
 While to their thin dry lips stuck wool-flecks severed by 
 biting, 
 
 Which at the first outstood from yarn-hanks evenly fine- 
 drawn. 
 
 Still at their feet in front soft fleece-flecks white as the 
 snow-flake 
 
 Lay in the trusty guard of wickers woven in withies. 
 
 Always a-carding the wool, with clear-toned voices re- 
 sounding 
 
 Told they such lots as these in song divinely directed, 
 
 Chants which none after-time shall Establish falsehood- 
 convicted. 
 
 SPIKNING-SONG OF THE FATES. 
 
 who by virtues great all highmost honours enhancest, 
 Guard of Emathia-land, most famous made by thine off- 
 spring, 
 Take what the Sisters deign this gladsome day to disclose 
 
 thee, 
 Oracles soothfast told, — and ye, by Destiny followed, 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Soon to thy sight shall rise, their fond hopes bringing to 
 bridegrooms, 
 
 Hesperus : soon shall come thy spouse with planet auspi- 
 cious, 
 
 Who shall thy mind enbathe with a love that softens the 
 spirit, 
 
 And as thyself shall prepare for sinking in languorous 
 slumber, 
 
96 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Under thy neck robust, soft arms dispreading as pillow. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Never a house like this such loves as these hath united, 
 Never did love conjoin by such-like covenant lovers, 
 As the according tie Thetis deigned in concert wi' Peleus. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Born of you twain shall come Achilles guiltless of fear- 
 sense, 
 
 Known by his forceful breast and ne'er by back to the 
 foeman, 
 
 Who shall at times full oft in doubtful contest of race- 
 course 
 
 Conquer the fleet-foot doe with slot-tracks smoking and 
 burning. 
 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, 
 Spindles ! 
 
 None shall with him compare, howe'er war-doughty a 
 
 hero, 
 Whenas the Phrygian rills flow deep with bloodshed of 
 
 Teucer, 
 And beleaguering the walls of Troy with longest of warfare 
 He shall the works lay low, third heir of Pelops the 
 
 perjured. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 
 Spindles ! 
 
 His be the derring-do and deeds of valour egregious, 
 Often mothers shall own at funeral-rites of their children, 
 What time their hoary hairs from head in ashes are 
 
 loosened, 
 And wi' their hands infirm, they smite their bosoms 
 
 loose-dugged. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 
 Spindles ! 
 
 For as the toiling hind bestrewing denseness of corn- 
 stalks 
 Under the broiling sun mows grain-fields yellow to harvest, 
 
PICTURES. 97 
 
 So shall his baneful brand strew earth with corpses of 
 
 Troy-born. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, 
 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Aye to his valorous worth attest shall wave of Scamander 
 Which unto Helle-Sea fast flowing ever dischargeth, 
 Straiter whose course shall grow by up-heapt barrage of 
 
 corpses, 
 While in his depths runs warm his stream with slaughter 
 
 commingled. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Witness in fine shall be the victim rendered to death- 
 stroke, 
 
 Whenas the earthen tomb on lofty tumulus builded 
 
 Shall of the stricken maid receive limbs white as the 
 snow-flake. 
 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 Spindles ! 
 
 For when at last shall Fors to weary Achaians her fiat 
 Deal, of Dardanus-town to burst Neptunian fetters, 
 Then shall the high-reared tomb stand bathed with Polyx- 
 
 ena's life-blood, 
 Who, as the victim doomed to fall by the double-edged 
 
 falchion, 
 Forward wi' hams relaxt shall smite a body beheaded. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Wherefore arise, ye pair, conjoin loves ardently longed-for, 
 
 Now doth the groom receive with happiest omen his god- 
 dess, 
 
 Now let the bride at length to her yearning spouse be 
 delivered ! 
 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 Spindles ! 
 
 Neither the nurse who comes at dawn to visit her nursling 
 E'er shall avail her neck to begird with yesterday's rib- 
 band. 
 
98 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 (Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, 
 
 Spindles !) 
 Nor shall the mother's soul for ill-matched daughter 
 
 a-grieving 
 Lose by a parted couch all hopes of favourite grandsons. 
 Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O 
 
 Spindles ! 
 
 THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS. 
 
 Thus in the bygone days Peleus' fate foretelling 
 Chanted from breasts divine prophetic verse the Parcse. 
 For that the pure chaste homes of heroes to visit in person 
 Oft-tide the Gods, and themselves to display where mortals 
 
 were gathered, 
 Wont were the Heavenlies while none human piety spurned 
 Often the Deities' Sire, in fulgent temple a-dwelling, 
 Whenas in festal days received he his annual worship, 
 Lookt upon hundreds of bulls felled prone on pavement 
 
 before him. 
 Full oft Liber who roamed from topmost peak of Par- 
 nassus 
 Hunted his howling host, his Thyiads with tresses di- 
 shevelled. . . . 
 Then with contending troops from all their city outflocking 
 Gladly the Delphians hailed their God with smoking of 
 
 altars. 
 Often in death-full war and bravest of battle, or Mavors 
 Or rapid Triton's Queen or eke the Virgin Rhamnusian, 
 Bevies of weaponed men exhorting, proved their presence. 
 But from the time when earth was stained with unspeak- 
 able scandals 
 And forth from greeding breasts of all men justice de- 
 parted, 
 Then did the brother drench his hands in brotherly blood- 
 shed, 
 Stinted the son in heart to mourn decease of his parents, 
 Longed the sire to sight his first-born's funeral convoy 
 So more freely the flower of step-dame-maiden to rifle ; 
 After that impious Queen her guiltless son underlying, 
 Impious, the household gods with crime ne'er dreading 
 
 to sully — 
 All things fair and nefand being mixt in fury of evil 
 
NUPTIAL SONG. 99 
 
 Turned from ourselves avert the great goodwill of the 
 Godheads. 
 
 Wherefor they nowise deign our human assemblies to 
 visit, 
 
 Nor do they suffer themselves be met in light of the day- 
 tide! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Richard Burton. 
 
 NUPTIAL SONG. 
 
 Youths. Vesper is here, youths, rise all; for Vesper 
 Olympus 
 Scales and in fine entires what lights so long were ex- 
 pected. 
 Time ? t is now to arise, now leave we tables rich-laden, 
 Now shall the Virgin come; now chant we the Hyme- 
 nseus: 
 
 Hymen O Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus ! 
 
 Damsels. View ye the Youths, Maids unwed ? Then 
 
 rise to withstand them : 
 Doubtless the night-fraught Star displays his splendour 
 
 (Etean. 
 Sooth 't is so; d' ye sight how speedily sprang they to 
 
 warfare ? 
 Nor for a naught up-sprang : they'll sing what need we 
 
 to conquer ! 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus I 
 
 Youths. Nowise easy the palm for us (Companions !) 
 be proffered, 
 
 Lo ! now the maidens muse and meditate matter of fore- 
 thought ; 
 
 Nor meditate they in vain ; they muse a humorous some- 
 thing ! 
 
 Yet naught wonder it is, their sprites be wholly in labour. 
 
 "We bear divided thought one way and hearing in other : 
 
 Vanquisht by right we must be, since Victory loveth the 
 heedful ! 
 LcfC. 
 
100 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Therefore at least d' ye turn your minds the task to con- 
 sider, 
 
 Soon shall begin their say whose conntersay shall befit 
 you. 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus ! 
 
 Damsels. Hesperus! say what flame more cruel in 
 Heaven be fanned? 
 
 Thou who the girl perforce canst tear from a mother's 
 embraces, 
 
 Tear from a parent's clasp her child despite of her cling- 
 ing 
 
 And upon love-hot youth bestowest her chastest of maiden- 
 hoods. 
 
 What shall the foeman deal more cruel to city becap- 
 tured? 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus ! 
 
 Youths. Hesperus ! say what flame more gladsome in 
 
 Heaven be shining ? 
 Thou whose light makes sure long-pledged connubial 
 
 promise 
 Plighted erewhile by men and erstwhile plighted by 
 
 parents. 
 Yet to be ne'er fulfilled before thy fire's ardours have 
 
 risen ! 
 What better boon can the gods bestow than an hour so 
 
 desired ? 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus ! 
 
 Damsels. E'en as a floweret born secluded in garden 
 enclosed, 
 
 Unto the flock unknown and ne'er uptorn by the plough- 
 share, 
 
 Soothed by the zephyrs and strengthened by suns and 
 nourisht by showers . . . 
 
 Loves her many a youth and longs for her many a 
 maiden : 
 
 Yet from her lissome stalk when cropt that flower de- 
 flowered, 
 
NUPTIAL SONG. 101 
 
 Loves her never a youth nor longs for her never a 
 
 maiden : 
 Thus while the virgin be whole, such while she 's the 
 
 darling of kinsfolk ; 
 Yet no sooner is lost her bloom from her body polluted, 
 Neither to youths is she joy, nor a dearling she to the 
 
 maidens ! 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus ! 
 
 Youths. E'en as an unmated vine which born in field 
 of the barest 
 Never upraises head nor breeds the mellow grape-bunch, 
 But under weight prone-bowed that tender body a-bending 
 Makes she her root anon to touch her topmost of tendrils ; 
 Tends her never a hind nor tends her ever a herdsman : 
 Yet if haply conjoined the same with an elm as a hus- 
 band, 
 Tends her many a hind and tends her many a herdsman ■ 
 Thus is the maid when whole, uncultured waxes she 
 
 aged; 
 But whenas union meet she wins her at ripest of seasons, 
 More to her spouse she is dear and less she 's irk to her 
 parents ! 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus ! 
 
 Youths and Damsels. But do thou cease to resist (0 
 
 Maid !) such bridegroom opposing, 
 Right it is not to resist whereto consigned thee a 
 
 father, 
 Father and mother of thee unto whom obedience is owing. 
 Not is that maidenhead all thine own, but partly thy 
 
 parents'. 
 Owneth thy sire one third, one third is right of thy 
 
 mother, 
 Only the third is thine : stint thee to strive with the 
 
 others, 
 Who to the stranger son have yielded their dues with a 
 
 dower. 
 
 Hymen Hymenceus, Hymen here, Hymenceus! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Kjchard Burton. 
 
102 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIEND. 
 
 If, Calvus, feeling lingers in the tomb, 
 
 And shades are touched by sense of mortal tears, 
 
 Mourning in fresh regrets love's vanished bloom, 
 Weeping the dear delights of vanished years ; 
 
 Then might her early fate with lighter grief 
 
 Thy lost Quinctilia's gentle spirit fill, 
 To cherish, where she bides, the assured belief 
 
 That she is nearest, dearest to thee still. 
 
 — Translation of James Da vies. 
 
 PLEASANT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 How pleasantly, Licinius, went 
 
 The hours which yesterday we spent, 
 
 Engaged as men like us befits 
 
 In keen encounter of our wits ! 
 
 My tablets still the records bear 
 
 Of all the good things jotted there : 
 
 The wit, the repartee that flew 
 
 From you to me, from me to you : 
 
 The gay bright verse that seemed to shine 
 
 More sparkling than the sparkling wine. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
 ON A EOMAN 'ARRY. 
 
 Whenever 'Arry tried to sound 
 
 An H, his care was unavailing; 
 He always spoke of 'orse and ? ound, 
 
 And all his kinsfolk had that failing. 
 
 Peace to our ears. He went from home ; 
 
 But tidings came that grieved us bitterly — 
 That 'Arry, while he stayed at Rome, 
 
 Enjoyed his 'oliday in Hitaly. 
 
 — Translation of Hummel and Brodribb. 
 
A DEDICATION. 103 
 
 TO CICERO. 
 
 Most eloquent of all the Roman race 
 That is, hath been, or shall be afterward, 
 
 To thee Catullus tenders highest grace, 
 Sorriest of poets in his own regard ; 
 
 Yea, sorriest of poets, ay, and worst, 
 
 As Tully is of all our pleaders first. 
 
 — Translation of James Davies. 
 
 TO A LITTLE ORATOR. 
 
 When in that wondrous speech of his, 
 
 My Calvus had denounced 
 Yatinius, and his infamies 
 
 Most mercilessly trounced — 
 
 A voice the buzz of plaudits clove — 
 
 My sides I nearly split 
 With laughter, as it cried, " By Jove ! 
 
 An eloquent tom-tit ! " 
 
 — Translation of Sib Theodobe Mabtin. 
 
 A DEDICATION. 
 
 My little volume is complete, 
 Fresh pumice-polished, and as neat 
 
 As book need wish to be ; 
 And now, what patron shall I choose 
 For these gay sallies of my Muse ? 
 
 Cornelius, whom but thee ? 
 
 Eor though they are but trifles, thou 
 Some value didst to them allow, 
 
 And that from thee is fame, 
 Who daredst in thy three volumes' space, 
 Alone of all Italians, trace 
 
 Our history and name. 
 
104 CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS. 
 
 Great Jove ! what lore, what labour there ! 
 Then take this little book, whate'er 
 
 Of good or bad it store ; 
 And grant, oh, guardian Muse, that it 
 May keep the flavour of its wit 
 
 A century or more ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
LABERIUS. 
 
 Laberius was born about 107 b.c. He was of the 
 equestrian order, but distinguished himself as a writer 
 of mimes. In October, 45, Publius Syrus, a professional 
 actor, challenged all his craft to a trial of wit in extempo- 
 raneous farce. Caesar, who was then celebrating his tri- 
 umphal games, offered Laberius five hundred thousand 
 sesterces to appear on the stage. This was equivalent to 
 a command ; and the aged knight reluctantly obeyed, for 
 the profession of a mimus was regarded as infamous. But 
 he used the degradation to effect his revenge ; his pro- 
 logue, which has been preserved, aroused compassion, and 
 his lines were full of pointed wit which the Koman audi- 
 ence were quick enough to appreciate. In the person of 
 a Syrian slave being whipped, he exclaimed, "Faith, 
 Quirites, but we have lost our freedom," and again he 
 exclaimed, " Many he needs must fear who is by many 
 feared." All eyes were turned on the dictator. The 
 people realized that in Laberius, Caesar was purposely 
 degrading the Koman nobility. Caesar awarded the prize 
 to Syrus. Laberius died two years later at Puteoli. He 
 was very popular with his contemporaries, ranking in 
 vigour above Terence and next to Plautus. 
 
 PEOLOGUE. 
 
 Necessity — the current of whose sway 
 Many would stem, but few can find the way, — 
 To what abasement has she made me bend, 
 Now when life's pulse is ebbing to its end ! 
 Whom no ambitious aim, no sordid bait, 
 Pear, force, nor influence of the grave and great, 
 Nor meed of praise, nor any lure beside, 
 Could move, when youthful, from my place of pride 
 Lo in mine age how easily I fall ! 
 One honied speech from Caesar's tongue was all ; 
 105 
 
106 
 
 LABERIUS. 
 
 For how might I resist his sovereign will, 
 
 Whose every wish the Gods themselves fulfil ? 
 
 Twice thirty years without a blemish spent, 
 
 Forth from my home this morn a knight I went, 
 
 And thither I return — as what ? a mime ! 
 
 Oh, I have lived one day beyond my time ! 
 
 Fortune — still wayward both in bad and good, 
 
 If 't was thy pleasure in thy changeful mood, 
 
 To tear the wreath of honour from my brow, 
 
 Why was I not far earlier taught to bow, 
 
 When with such aid as youth and strength afford, 
 
 I might have won the crowd and pleased their lord ? 
 
 Now, why thus humbled in the frost of age ? 
 
 What scenic virtues bring I to the stage ? 
 
 What fire of soul, what dignity of mien, 
 
 What powers of voice to grace the mimic scene ? 
 
 As creeping ivy kills the strangled tree, 
 
 So the long clasp of years has dealt with me. 
 
 Naught left, alas ! of all my former fame, 
 
 Save the poor legend of a tomb — my name ! 
 
 — Translation of Neaves and Atton. 
 
PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MAEO. 
 
 Vergil (or Virgil) was born October 15, 70 B.C., in the 
 small village of Andes (now Pietola), not far from Mantua 
 in Cisalpine Gaul, where his father, who was probably a 
 man of some means, had a farm. He was carefully edu- 
 cated at Cremona and Mediolanum (Milan), and after he 
 had assumed the toga, at Naples. He learned Greek, and 
 at Kome studied the Epicurean philosophy under Syron. 
 His feeble health may have been the cause of his retire- 
 ment to his farm, from which he was dispossessed after 
 the battle of Philippi. The governor, Asinius Pollio, ad- 
 vised him to apply to Octavianus at Rome for the resti- 
 tution of his property. The first Eclogue is supposed to 
 commemorate his gratitude for the favour granted. In 
 Rome, Vergil became acquainted with that munificent 
 patron of literature, Caius Cilnius Maecenas, who gathered 
 around him that notable coterie which was the glory of 
 the Augustan age. At the request of Maecenas he wrote 
 the " Georgics," the most finished of his works. The last 
 lines he composed at Naples, after the battle of Actium, 
 31 B.C. Four years later Augustus wrote Vergil from 
 Spain, asking of him some great poetical work. The 
 poet, who had long contemplated an epic on the subject 
 of ^Eneas, the mythical founder of Rome, complied. In 
 the year 23, Caesar's nephew Marcellus died, and Vergil 
 introduced into the Sixth Book of the "iEneid " the mem- 
 orable passage which caused Octavia, when she heard it, 
 to swoon. In 20 Vergil was in Athens, and there met 
 Augustus. He had intended to make a tour of Greece, 
 but instead went back to Italy with the emperor. Shortly 
 after his return he died at Brundusium (Brindisi), Sep- 
 tember 22, 19 b.c. He was buried in a tomb on the road 
 leading from Naples to Pozzuoli. The inscription on the 
 tomb, translated, reads : — 
 
 " Mantua brought me forth, Calabria smote me, now holds me 
 
 Parthenope. I have sung shepherds, farmers, and wars." 
 
 107 
 
108 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Vergil left a handsome property. On his death-bed he 
 requested to have his "JEneid " destroyed, on the ground 
 that he had not been allowed by the state of his health 
 to polish it as he desired. But fortunately his friends 
 disregarded his request, and very shortly after his death 
 it was published and immediately became a text-book for 
 Roman boys. Partly on account of the name of his 
 mother, Maia, and partly because of the prophetic ten- 
 dency of his eclogue addressed to Pollio, Vergil came to 
 be regarded as a herald of Christianity, and during the 
 Middle Ages acquired a marvellous reputation as a necro- 
 mancer. By Dante he was chosen as guide through Hell 
 and Purgatory. Vergil's writings are marked by exquisite 
 polish and delicacy of style ; his wide learning enabled 
 him to introduce many brilliant episodes into his poems, 
 but often at the expense of originality. He borrowed 
 largely from the Greeks, notably Homer and Apollonius 
 Rhodius ; but in spite of all he is regarded as the best 
 and noblest of the Roman poets. 
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 ECLOGUE I. 
 
 Meliboeus. Stretcht in the shadow of the broad beech, 
 thou 
 Rehearsest, Tityrus, on the slender pipe 
 Thy woodland music. We our fatherland 
 Are leaving, we must shun the fields we love : 
 While, Tityrus, thou, at ease amid the shade, 
 Bidd'st answering woods call Amaryllis "fair." 
 
 Tityrus. Meliboeus ! 'T is a god that made 
 For me this holiday : for god I '11 aye 
 Account him ; many a young lamb from my fold 
 Shall stain his altar. Thanks to him, my kine 
 Range, as thou seest them : thanks to him, I play 
 What songs I list upon my shepherd's pipe. 
 
 Meliboeus. For me, I grudge thee not; I marvel 
 much: 
 So sore a trouble is in all the land. 
 Lo ! feeble / am driving hence my goats — 
 Nay dragging, Tityrus, one, and that with pain. 
 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 109 
 
 For, yeaning here amidst the hazel-stems, 
 She left her twin kids — on the naked flint 
 She left them ; and I lost my promised flock. 
 This evil, I remember, oftentimes, 
 (Had not my wits been wandering), oaks foretold 
 By heaven's hand smitten : oft the wicked crow 
 Croaked the same message from the rifted holm. 
 — Yet tell me, Tityrns, of this "God" of thine. 
 
 Tityrus. The city men call Home my folly deemed 
 Was e'en like this of ours, where week by week 
 We shepherds journey with our weanling flocks. 
 So whelp to dog, so kid (I knew) to dam 
 Was likest : and I judged great things by small. 
 But o'er all cities this so lifts her head, 
 As doth o'er osiers lithe the cypress tree. 
 
 Meliboeus. What made thee then so keen to look on 
 Borne? 
 
 Tityrus. Freedom: who marked, at last, my helpless 
 state : 
 Now that a whiter beard than that of yore 
 Fell from my razor : still she marked, and came 
 (All late) to help me — now that all my thought 
 Is Amaryllis, Galatea gone. 
 While Galatea's, I despaired, I own, 
 Of freedom, and of thrift. Though from my farm 
 Full many a victim stept, though rich the cheese 
 Prest for yon thankless city : still my hand 
 Beturned not, heavy with brass pieces, home. 
 
 Meliboeus. I wondered, Amaryllis, whence that woe, 
 And those appeals to heaven : for whom the peach 
 Hung undisturbed upon the parent tree 
 Tityrus was gone ! Why, Tityrus, pine and rill, 
 And all these copses, cried to thee, " Come home ! " 
 
 Tityrus. What could I do ? I could not step from 
 out 
 My bonds ; nor meet, save there, with Powers so kind. 
 There, Meliboeus, I beheld that youth 
 For whom each year twelve days my altars smoke. 
 Thus answered he my yet unanswered prayer ; 
 " Feed still, my lads, your kine, and yoke your bulls." 
 
 Meliboeus. Happy old man ! Thy hands are yet thine 
 own! 
 Lands broad enough for thee, although bare stones 
 
110 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 And marsh choke every field with reedy mud. 
 Strange pastures shall not vex thy teeming ewes, 
 Nor neighbouring flocks shed o'er them rank disease. 
 Happy old man ! Here, by familiar streams 
 And holy springs, thou 'It catch the leafy cool. 
 Here, as of old, yon hedge, thy boundary line, 
 Its willow-buds a feast for Hybla's bees, 
 Shall with soft whisperings woo thee to thy sleep. 
 Here, 'neath the tall cliff, shall the vintager 
 Sing carols to the winds ; while all the time 
 Thy pets, the stock-doves, and the turtles make 
 Incessantly their moan from aery elms. 
 
 Tityrus. Ay, and for this shall slim stags graze in 
 
 air, 
 And ocean cast on shore the shrinking fish ; 
 For this, each realm by either wandered o'er. 
 Parthians shall Arar drink, or Tigris Gauls ; 
 Ere from this memory shall fade that face ! 
 
 Meliboeus. And we the while must thirst on Libya's 
 
 sands, 
 O'er Scythia roam, and where the Cretan stems 
 The swift Oaxes ; or, with Britons, live 
 Shut out from all the world. Shall I e'er see, 
 In far-off years, my fatherland ? the turf 
 That roofs my meagre hut ? see, wondering last, 
 Those few scant cornblades that are realms to me ? 
 What ! must rude soldiers hold these fallows trim ? 
 That corn barbarians ? See what comes of strife, 
 Poor people — where we sowed, what hands shall 
 
 reap ! 
 Now, Meliboeus, prithee graft thy pears, 
 And range thy vines ! Nay, on, my she-goats, on, 
 Once happy flock ! For never more must I, 
 Outstretcht in some green hollow, watch you hang 
 From tufted crags, far up : no carols more 
 I'll sing : nor, shepherded by me, shall ye 
 Crop the tart willow and the clover-bloom. 
 
 Tityrus. Yet here, this one night, thou may'st rest with 
 
 me, 
 Thy bed green branches. Chestnuts soft have I 
 And mealy apples, and our fill of cheese. 
 Already, see, the far-off chimneys smoke, 
 And deeper grow the shadows of the hills. 
 
THE BUCOLICS. Ill 
 
 ECLOGUE II. 
 
 Corydon. For one fair face — his master's idol — 
 burned 
 The shepherd Corydon ; and hope had none. 
 Day after day he came ('t was all he could) 
 Where, piles of shadow, thick the beeches rose : 
 There, all alone, his unwrought phrases flung, 
 Bootless as passionate, to copse and crag. 
 
 " Hardhearted ! Naught carest thou for all my songs, 
 Naught pitiest. I shall die, one day, for thee. 
 The very cattle court cool shadows now, 
 Now the green lizard hides beneath the thorn : 
 And for the reaper, faint with driving heat, 
 The handmaids mix the garlic-salad strong. 
 My only mates, the crickets — as I track 
 'Neath the fierce sun thy steps — make shrill the woods. 
 Better to endure the passion and the pride 
 Of Amaryllis : better to endure 
 Menalcas — dark albeit as thou art fair. 
 Put not, oh fair, in difference of hue 
 Faith overmuch : the white May-blossoms drop 
 And die ; the hyacinth swart, men gather it. 
 Thy scorn am I : thou ask'st not whence I am, 
 How rich in snowy flocks, how stored with milk. 
 O'er Sicily's green hills a thousand lambs 
 Wander, all mine : my new milk fails me not 
 In summer or in snow. Then I can sing 
 All songs Amphion the Dircaean sang, 
 Piping his flocks from Attic Aracynth. 
 Nor am I all uncouth. For yesterday, 
 When winds had laid the seas, I, from the shore, 
 Beheld my image. Little need I fear 
 Daphnis, though thou wert judge, or mirrors lie. 
 
 — Oh ! be content to haunt ungentle fields, 
 A cottager, with me ; bring down the stag, 
 
 And with green switch drive home thy flocks of kids : 
 Like mine, thy woodland songs shall rival Pan's ! 
 
 — 'T was Pan first taught us reed on reed to fit 
 With wax : Pan watches herd and herdsman too. 
 
 — Nor blush that reeds should chafe thy pretty lip. 
 What pains Amyntas took, this skill to gain ! 
 
 I have a pipe — seven stalks of different lengths 
 
112 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Compose it — which Damoetas gave ine once. 
 
 Dying he said, ' At last 't is all thine own.' 
 
 The fool Amyntas heard, and grudged, the praise. 
 
 Two fawns moreover (perilous was the gorge 
 
 Down which I tracked them !) — dappled still each 
 
 skin — 
 Drain daily two ewe-udders; all for thee. 
 Long Thestylis has cried to make them hers. 
 Hers be they — since to thee my gifts are dross. 
 Be mine, oh fairest ! See ! for thee the Nymphs 
 Bear baskets lily-laden : Naiads bright 
 For thee crop poppy-crests and violets pale, 
 With daffodil and fragrant fennel-bloom : 
 Then, weaving casia in and all sweet things, 
 Soft hyacinth paint with yellow marigold. 
 Apples I '11 bring thee, hoar with tender bloom, 
 And chestnuts — which my Amaryllis loved, 
 And waxen plums : let plums too have their day. 
 And thee I '11 pluck, oh bay, and, myrtle, thee 
 Its neighbour : neighboured thus your sweets shall mix. 
 
 — Pooh ! Thou'rt a yokel, Corydon. Thy love 
 Laughs at thy gifts : if gifts must win the day, 
 Rich is Iolas. What thing have I, 
 
 Poor I, been asking — while the winds and boars 
 B,an riot in my pools and o'er my flowers ? 
 
 — Yet, fool, whom fliest thou ? Gods have dwelt in 
 
 woods, 
 And Dardan Paris. Citadels let her 
 Who built them, Pallas, haunt : green woods for me. 
 Grim lions hunt the wolf, and wolves the kid, 
 And kids at play the clover-bloom. I hunt 
 Thee only : each one drawn to what he loves. 
 See ! trailing from their necks the kine bring home 
 The plough, and, as he sinks, the sun draws out 
 To twice their length the shadows. — Still I burn 
 With love. For what can end or alter love ? " 
 
 Thou 'rt raving, simply raving, Corydon. 
 Clings to thy leafy elm thy half-pruned vine. 
 Why not begin, at least, to plait with twigs 
 And limber reeds some useful homely thing? 
 Thou 'It find another love, if scorned by this. 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 113 
 
 ECLOGUE III. 
 
 Menalcas. Whose flock, Damoetas ? Meliboeus's ? 
 
 Damoetas. No, Agon's. Mgon left it in my care. 
 
 Menalcas. Unluckiest of flocks ! Your master courts 
 Nesera, wondering if she like me more : 
 Meanwhile a stranger milks you twice an hour, 
 Saps the flocks' strength, and robs the suckling lambs. 
 
 Damoetas. Yet fling more charity such words at men. 
 You — while the goats looked goatish — we know who, 
 And in what chapel — (but the kind Nymphs laught) — 
 
 Menalcas. Then (was it ?) when they saw me Micon's 
 shrubs 
 And young vines hacking with my rascally knife ? 
 
 Damcetas. Or when by this old beech you broke the 
 bow 
 And shafts of Daphnis : which you cried to see, 
 You crossgrained lad, first given to the boy ; 
 And harm him somehow you must needs, or die. 
 
 Menalcas. Where will lords stop, when knaves are come 
 to this ? 
 Did not I see you, scoundrel, in a snare 
 Take Damon's goat, Wolf barking all the while ? 
 And when I shouted, " Where 's he off to ? Call, 
 Tityrus, your flock," — you skulked behind the sedge. 
 
 Damoetas. Beaten in singing, should he have withheld 
 The goat my pipe had by its music earned ? 
 That goat was mine, you mayn't p'r'aps know : and he 
 Owned it himself; but said he could not pay. 
 
 Menalcas. He beat by you ? You own a decent pipe? 
 Used you not, dunce, to stand at the crossroads, 
 Stifling some lean tune in a squeaky straw ? 
 
 Damoetas. Shall we then try in turn what each can do ? 
 I stake yon cow — nay hang not back — she comes 
 Twice daily to the pail, is suckling twins. 
 Say what you '11 lay. 
 
 Menalcas. I durst not wager aught 
 
 Against you from the flock : for I have at home 
 A father, I have a tyrant stepmother. 
 Both count the flock twice daily, one the kids. 
 But what you '11 own far handsomer, I '11 stake 
 (Since you will be so mad) two beechen cups, 
 The carved work of the great Alcimedon. 
 
114 PUBL1US VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 O'er them the chiseller's skill has traced a vine 
 
 That drapes with ivy pale her wide-flung curls. 
 
 Two figures in the centre : Conon one, 
 
 And — what 's that other 's name, who 'd take a wand 
 
 And show the nations how the year goes round ; 
 
 When you should reap, when stoop behind the plough ? 
 
 Ne'er yet my lips came near them, safe hid up. 
 
 Damoetas. For me two cups the selfsame workman 
 made, 
 And claspt with lissom briar the handles round. 
 Orpheus i' the centre, with the woods behind. 
 Ne'er yet my lips came near them, safe hid up. 
 — This talk of cups, if on my cow you We fixt 
 Your eye, is idle. 
 
 Menalcas. Nay you '11 not this day 
 
 Escape me. Name your spot, and I '11 be there. 
 Our umpire be — Palaemon ; here he comes ! 
 1 11 teach you how to challenge folks to sing. 
 
 Damcetas. Come on, if aught is in you. I ? m not loth, 
 I shrink from no man. Only, neighbour, thou 
 ('T is no small matter) lay this well to heart. 
 
 Palaemon. Say on, since now we sit on softest grass ; 
 And now buds every field and every tree, 
 And woods are green, and passing fair the year. 
 Damcetas, lead. Menalcas, follow next. 
 Sing verse for verse : such songs the Muses love. 
 
 Damoetas. With Jove we open. Jove fills everything, 
 He walks the earth, he listens when I sing. 
 
 Menalcas. Me Phoebus loves. I still have offerings 
 meet 
 For Phoebus ; bay, and hyacinth blushing sweet. 
 
 Damoetas. Me Galatea pelts with fruit, and flies 
 (Wild girl) to the woods : but first would catch my eyes. 
 
 Menalcas. Unbid Amyntas comes to me, my flame ; 
 With Delia's self my dogs are not more tame. 
 
 Damoetas. Gifts have I for my fair : who marked but I 
 The place where doves had built their nest sky-high ? 
 
 Menalcas. I 've sent my poor gift, which the wild wood 
 bore, 
 Ten golden apples. Soon I '11 send ten more. 
 
 Damoetas. Oft Galatea tells me — what sweet tales ! 
 Waft to the god's ears just a part, ye gales. 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 115 
 
 Menalcas. At heart Amyntas loves me. Yet what 
 then? 
 He mates with hunters, I with serving-men. 
 
 Damoetas. Send me thy Phyllis, good Iolas, now. 
 To-day 's my birthday. When I slay my cow 
 To help my harvest — come, and welcome, thou. 
 Menalcas. Phillis is my love. When we part, she '11 
 cry; 
 And fain would bid Iolas' self good-by. 
 
 Damoetas. Wolves kill the flocks, and storms the 
 ripened corn; 
 And winds the tree ; and me a maiden's scorn. 
 
 Menalcas. Rain is the land's delight, weaned kids' the 
 vine; 
 Big ewes' lithe willow ; and one fair face mine. 
 
 Damoetas. Pollio loves well this homely muse of mine. 
 For a new votary fat a calf, ye Mne. 
 
 Menalcas. Pollio makes songs. For him a bull demand, 
 Who butts, whose hoofs already spurn the sand. 
 
 Damoetas. Who loves thee, Pollio, go where thou art 
 gone. 
 For him flow honey, thorns sprout cinnamon. 
 
 Menalcas. Who loathes not Bavius, let him love thy 
 notes, 
 Msevius : — and yoke the fox, and milk he-goats. 
 
 Damoetas. Flowers and ground-strawberries while your 
 prize ye make, 
 Cold in the grass — fly hence, lads — lurks the snake. 
 Menalcas. Sheep, banks are treacherous: draw not 
 over-nigh : 
 See, now the lordly ram his fleece doth dry. 
 
 Damoetas. Tityrus, yon she-goats from the river bring. 
 I in due time will wash them at the spring. 
 
 Menalcas. Call, lads, your sheep. Once more our hands, 
 should heat 
 O'ertake the milk, will press in vain the teat. 
 
 Damoetas. How rich these vetches, yet how lean my ox. 
 Love kills alike the herdsman and the flocks. 
 
 Menalcas. My lambs — and here love's not in fault, 
 you'll own — 
 Witched by some jealous eye, are skin and bone. 
 
 Damoetas. Say in what land — and great Apollo be 
 To me — heaven's arch extends just cubits three. 
 
116 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Menalcas. Say in what lands with kings' names graven 
 are grown 
 Flowers — and be Phyllis yours and yours alone. 
 
 Paloemon. Not mine such strife to settle. You have 
 earned 
 A cow, and you : and whoso else shall e'er 
 Shrink from love's sweets or prove his bitterness. 
 Close, lads, the springs. The meads have drunk enough. 
 
 ECLOGUE IV. 
 
 Muses of Sicily, a loftier song 
 
 Wake we ! Some tire of shrubs and myrtles low. 
 
 Are woods our theme ? Then princely be the woods. 
 
 Come are those last days that the Sybil sang: 
 The ages' mighty march begins anew. 
 Now comes the virgin, Saturn reigns again : 
 Now from high heaven descends a wondrous race. 
 Thou on the newborn babe — who first shall end 
 That age of iron, bid a golden dawn 
 Upon the broad world — chaste Lucina, smile : 
 Now thy Apollo reigns. And, Pollio, thou 
 Shalt be our Prince, when he that grander age 
 Opens, and onward roll the mighty moons : 
 Thou, trampling out what prints our crimes have left, 
 Shalt free the nations from perpetual fear. 
 While he to bliss shall waken ; with the Blest 
 See the Brave mingling, and be seen of them, 
 Ruling that world o'er which his father's arm shed peace. — 
 
 On thee, child, everywhere shall earth, un tilled, 
 Shower, her first baby-offerings, vagrant stems 
 Of ivy, foxglove, and gay briar, and bean ; 
 Unbid the goats shall come big-uddered home, 
 Nor monstrous lions scare the herded kine. 
 Thy cradle shall be full of pretty flowers : 
 Die must the serpent, treacherous poison-plants 
 Must die ; and Syria's roses spring like weeds. 
 
 But, soon as thou canst read of hero-deeds 
 Such as thy father wrought, and understand 
 What is true worth : the champaign day by day 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 117 
 
 Shall grow more yellow with the waving corn ; 
 
 Prom the wild bramble purpling then shall hang 
 
 The grape ; and stubborn oaks drop honey dew. 
 
 Yet traces of that guile of elder days 
 
 Shall linger ; bidding men tempt seas in ships, 
 
 Gird towns with walls, cleave furrows in the land. 
 
 Then a new Tiphys shall arise, to man 
 
 New argosies with heroes : then shall be 
 
 New wars ; and once more shall be bound for Troy, 
 
 A mightier Achilles. 
 
 After this, 
 When thou hast grown and strengthened into man, 
 The pilot's self shall range the seas no more ; 
 Nor, each land teeming with the wealth of all, 
 The floating pines exchange their merchandise. 
 Vines shall not need the pruning-hook, nor earth 
 The harrow : ploughmen shall unyoke their steers. 
 Nor then need wool be taught to counterfeit 
 This hue and that. At will the meadow ram 
 Shall change to saffron, or the gorgeous tints 
 Of Tyre, his fair fleece ; and the grazing lamb 
 At will put crimson on. 
 
 So grand an age 
 Did those three Sisters bid their spindles spin ; 
 Three, telling with one voice the changeless will of Fata 
 
 Oh draw — the time is all but present — near 
 
 To thy great glory, cherisht child of heaven, 
 
 Jove's mighty progeny ! And lo ! the world, 
 
 The round and ponderous world, bows down to thee ; 
 
 The earth, the ocean-tracts, the depths of heaven. 
 
 Lo ! nature revels in the coming age. 
 
 Oh ! may the evening of my days last on, 
 
 May breath be mine, till I have told thy deeds ! 
 
 Not Orpheus then, not Linus, shall out sing 
 
 Me : though each vaunts his mother or his sire, 
 
 Calliopea this, Apollo that. 
 
 Let Pan strive with me, Arcady his judge ; 
 
 Pan, Arcady his judge, shall yield the palm. 
 
 Learn, tiny babe, to read a mother's smile : 
 
 Already ten long mouths have wearied her. 
 
 Learn, tiny babe. Him, who ne'er knew such smiles,. 
 
 Nor god nor goddess bids to board or bed. 
 
118 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 ECLOGUE V. 
 
 Menalcas. Mopsus, suppose, now two good men have 
 met — 
 You at flute-blowing, as at verses I — 
 We sit down here, where elm and hazel mix. 
 
 Mopsus. Menalcas, meet it is that I obey 
 Mine elder. Lead, or into shade — that shifts 
 At the wind's fancy — or (mayhap the best) 
 Into some cave. See here 's a cave, o'er wnich 
 A wild vine flings her flimsy foliage. 
 
 Menalcas. On these hills one — Amyntas — vies with 
 you. 
 
 Mopsus. Suppose he thought to outsing Phoebus' self ? 
 
 Menalcas. Mopsus, begin. If aught you know of flames 
 That Phyllis kindles ; aught of Alcon's worth, 
 Or Codrus's ill-temper ; then begin : 
 Tityrus meanwhile will watch the grazing kids. 
 
 Mopsus. Ay, I will sing the song which t' other day 
 On a green beech's bark I cut ; and scored 
 The music, as I wrote. Hear that, and bid 
 Amyntas vie with me. 
 
 Menalcas. As willow lithe 
 
 Yields to pale olive ; as to crimson beds 
 Of roses yields the lowly lavender ; 
 So, to my mind, Amyntas yields to you. 
 
 Mopsus. But, lad, no more : we are within the cave. 
 
 [Sings.] The Nymphs wept Daphnis, slain by ruthless 
 
 death. 
 Ye, streams and hazels, were their witnesses : 
 When, clasping tight her son's unhappy corpse, 
 " Ruthless," the mother cried, " are gods and stars." 
 None to the cool brooks led in all those days, 
 Daphnis, his fed flocks : no four-footed thing 
 Stoopt to the pool, or cropt the meadow-grass. 
 How lions of the desert mourned thy death, 
 Forests and mountains wild proclaim aloud. 
 'T was Daphnis taught mankind to yoke in cars 
 The tiger ; lead the winegod's revel on, 
 And round the tough spear twine the bending leaf. 
 Vines are the green wood's glory, grapes the vine's : 
 The bull *the cattle's, and the rich land's corn, 
 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 119 
 
 Thou art thy people's. When thou metst thy doom, 
 
 Both Pales and Apollo left our fields. 
 
 In furrows where we dropt big barley seeds, 
 
 Spring now rank darnel and the barren reed : 
 
 Not violet soft and shining daffodil, 
 
 But thistles rear themselves, and sharp-spiked thorn. 
 
 Shepherds, strow earth with leaves, and hang the springs 
 
 With darkness ! Daphnis asks of you such rites : 
 
 And raise a tomb, and place this rhyme thereon : 
 
 " Famed in the green woods, famed beyond the skies, 
 
 A fair flock's fairer lord, here Daphnis lies." 
 
 Menalcas. Welcome thy song to me, oh sacred bard, 
 As, to the weary, sleep upon the grass : 
 As, in the summer-heat, a bubbling spring 
 Of sweetest water, that shall slake our thirst. 
 In song, as on the pipe, thy master's match, 
 Thou, gifted lad, shalt now our master be. 
 Yet will I sing in turn, in my poor way, 
 My song, and raise thy Daphnis to the stars — 
 Raise Daphnis to the stars. He loved me too. 
 
 Mopsus. Could aught in my eyes such a boon out- 
 weigh ? 
 Song-worthy was thy theme : and Stimichon 
 Told me long since of that same lay of thine. 
 
 Menalcas [sings]. Heaven's unfamiliar floor, and clouds 
 and stars, 
 Fair Daphnis, wondering, sees beneath his feet. 
 Therefore gay revelries fill wood and field, 
 Pan, and the shepherds, and the Dryad maids. 
 Wolves plot not harm to sheep, nor nets to deer ; 
 Because kind Daphnis makes it holiday. 
 The unshorn mountains fling their jubilant voice 
 Up to the stars : the crags and copses shout 
 Aloud, " A god, Menalcas, lo ! a god." 
 Oh ! be thou kind and good unto thine own ! 
 Behold four altars, Daphnis : two for thee, 
 Two, piled for Phoebus. Thereupon I '11 place 
 Two cups, with new milk foaming, year by year ; 
 Two goblets filled with richest olive-oil : 
 And, first with much wine making glad the feast — 
 At the fireside in snowtime, 'neath the trees 
 In harvest — pour, rare nectar, from the can 
 
120 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 The wines of Chios. Lyctian iEgon then 
 
 Shall sing me songs, and to Damoetas' pipe 
 
 Alphesiboeus dance his Satyr-dance. 
 
 And this shalt thou lack never : when we pay 
 
 The Nymphs our vows, and when we cleanse the fields. 
 
 "While boars haunt mountain-heights, and fishes streams, 
 
 Bees feed on thyme, and grasshoppers on dew, 
 
 Thy name, thy needs, thy glory shall abide. 
 
 As Bacchus and as Ceres, so shalt thou 
 
 Year after year the shepherd's vows receive ; 
 
 So bind him to the letter of his vow. 
 
 Mopsus. What can I give thee, what, for such a song ? 
 Less sweet to me the coming South-wind's sigh, 
 The sea-wave breaking on the shore, the noise 
 Of rivers, rushing through the stony vales. 
 
 Menalcas. First I shall offer you this brittle pipe. 
 This taught me how to sing, " For one fair face : " 
 This taught me " Whose flock ? Meliboeus's ? " 
 
 Mopsus. Take thou this crook ; which oft Antigenes 
 Asked — and he then was lovable — in vain ; 
 Brass-tipt and even-knotted — beautiful ! 
 
 ECLOGUE VI. 
 
 My muse first stoopt to trifle, like the Greek's, 
 In numbers ; and, unblushing, dwelt in woods. 
 I sang embattled kings : but Cynthius plucked 
 My ear, and warned me : " Tityrus, fat should be 
 A shepherd's wethers, but his lays thin-drawn.*' 
 So — for enough and more will strive to tell, 
 Varus, thy deeds, and pile up grisly wars — 
 On pipe of straw will I my wood-notes sing : 
 I sing not all unbid. Yet oh ! should one 
 Smit by great love, should one read this my lay — 
 Then with thee, Varus, shall our myrtle-groves, 
 And all these copses, ring. Eight dearly loves 
 Phoebus the page that opens with thy name. 
 
 On, sisters ! 
 
 — Chromis and Mnasylus saw 
 (Two lads) Silenus in a cave asleep : 
 As usual, swoln with yesterday's debauch. 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 121 
 
 Just where it fell his garland lay hard by ; 
 
 And on worn handle hung his ponderous can. 
 
 They — for the old man oft had cheated each 
 
 Of promist songs — draw near, and make his wreaths 
 
 Fetters to bind him. iEgle makes a third, 
 
 (Mgle, the loveliest of the Naiad maids,) 
 
 To back their fears : and, as his eyes unclose, 
 
 Paints brow and temples red with mulberry. 
 
 He, laughing at the trick, cries, " Wherefore weave 
 
 These fetters ? Lads, unbind me : 't is enough 
 
 But to have seemed to have me in your power. 
 
 Ye ask a song ; then listen. You I '11 pay 
 
 With song : for her I 've other meed in store." 
 
 And forthwith he begins. Then might you see 
 
 Move to the music Faun and forest-beast, 
 
 And tall oaks bow their heads. Not so delights 
 
 Parnassus in Apollo : not so charmed 
 
 At Orpheus Rhodope and Ismarus. 
 
 For this he sang : — How, drawn from that vast void, 
 Gathered the germs of earth and air and sea 
 And liquid flame. How the Beginning sprang 
 Thence, and the young world waxt into a ball. 
 Then Earth, grown harder, walled the sea-god off 
 In seas, and slowly took substantial form : 
 Till on an awed world dawned the wondrous sun, 
 And straight from heaven, by clouds unbroken, fell 
 The showers : as woods first bourgeoned, here and there 
 A wild beast wandering over hills unknown. 
 Of Pyrrha casting stones, and Saturn's reign, 
 The stolen fire, the eagles of the rock, 
 He sings : and then, beside what spring last seen 
 The sailors called for Hylas — till the shore 
 All rang with " Hylas," u Hylas : " — and consoles 
 (Happy if horned herds never had been born,) 
 With some fair bullock's love Pasiphae. 
 Ah ! hapless maid ! What madness this of thine ? 
 Once a king's daughters made believe to low, 
 And ranged the leas : but neither stoopt to ask 
 Those base beasts' love : though each had often feared 
 To find the ploughman's gear about her neck, 
 And felt on her smooth brow for budding horns. 
 Ah ! hapless maid ! Thou roam'st from hill to hill : 
 
122 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 He under some dark oak — his snowy side 
 
 Cushioned on hyacinths — chews the pale-green grass, 
 
 Or woos some favourite from the herd. " Close, Nymphs, 
 
 Dictsean Nymphs, oh close the forest-glades ! 
 
 If a bull's random footprints by some chance 
 
 Should greet me! Lured, may be, by greener grass, 
 
 Or in the herd's wake following, vagrant kine 
 
 May bring him straight into my father's fold ! " 
 
 — Then sings he of that maid who paused to gaze 
 
 At the charmed apples : — and surrounds with moss, 
 
 Bitter tree-moss, the daughters of the Sun, 
 
 Till up they spring tall alders. — Then he sings 
 
 How Gallus, wandering to Parnassus' stream, 
 
 A sister led to the Aonian hills, 
 
 And, in a mortal's honour, straight uprose 
 
 The choir of Phoebus : How that priest of song, 
 
 The shepherd Linus, — all his hair with flowers 
 
 And bitter parsley shining, — spake to him. 
 
 " Take — lo ! the Muses give it thee — this pipe, 
 
 Once that Ascrsean's old : to this would he 
 
 Sing till the sturdy mountain-ash came down. 
 
 Sing thou on this, whence sprang iEolia's grove, 
 
 Till in no wood Apollo glory more." 
 
 So on and on he sang : — How Nisus, famed 
 In story, troubled the Dulichian ships ; 
 And in the deep seas bid her sea-dogs rend 
 The trembling sailors. Tereus' tale he told, 
 How he has changed ; what banquet Philomel, 
 What present, deckt for him : and how she flew 
 To the far wilderness ; and flying paused — 
 (Poor thing) — to flutter round her ancient home. 
 
 All songs which one day Phoebus sang to charmed 
 Eurotas — and the laurels learnt them off — 
 He sang. The thrilled vales fling them to the stars 
 Till Hesper bade them house and count their flocks, 
 And journeyed all unwelcome up the sky. 
 
 ECLOGUE VII. 
 
 Meliboeus. Daphnis was seated 'neath a murmurous oak, 
 When Corydon and Thyrsis (so it chanced) 
 Had driven their two flocks — one of sheep, and one 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 123 
 
 Of teeming goats — together : herdsmen both, 
 Both in life's spring, and able well to sing, 
 Or, challenged, to reply. To that same spot 
 I, guarding my young myrtles from the frost, 
 Find my goat strayed, the patriarch of the herd 
 And straight spy Daphnis. He, espying me 
 In turn, cries, " Meliboeus ! hither, quick ! 
 Thy goat, and kids, are safe. And if thou hast 
 An hour to spare, sit down beneath the shade. 
 Hither unbid will troop across the leas 
 The kine to drink : green Mincius fringes here 
 His banks with delicate bulrush, and a noise 
 Of wild bees rises from the sacred oak." 
 
 What could I do ? Alcippe I had none, 
 Nor Phyllis, to shut up my new-weaned lambs : 
 Then, there was war on foot — a mighty war — 
 Thyrsis and Cory don ! — So in the end 
 I made my business wait upon their sport. — 
 So singing verse for verse — that well the Muse 
 Might mark it — they began their singing-match. 
 Thus Corydon, thus Thyrsis sang in turn. 
 {They sing.) 
 Corydon. " Ye Fountain Nymphs, my loves ! Grant 
 
 me to sing 
 Like Codrus : — next Apollo's rank his lines : — 
 Or here — if all may scarce do everything 
 I '11 hang my pipe up on these sacred pines." 
 TJiyrsis. " Swains ! a new minstrel deck with ivy now, 
 Till Codrus burst with envy ! Or, should he 
 Flatter o'ermuch, twine foxglove o'er my brow, 
 Lest his knave's-flattery spoil the bard to be." 
 Corydon. " ' To Dian, from young Micon : this boar's 
 
 head, 
 And these broad antlers of a veteran buck.' 
 Full-length in marble — ankle-bound with red 
 
 Buskins — I '11 rear her, should to-day bring luck." 
 Thyrsis. " Ask but this bowl, Priapus, and this cake 
 Each year : for poor the garden thou dost keep. 
 Our small means made thee marble : whom we'll make 
 Of gold, should lambing multiply our sheep." 
 Corydon. " Maid of the seas ! more sweet than Hybla's 
 
 thyme, 
 Graceful as ivy, white as is the swan ! 
 
124 
 
 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 When home the fed flocks wend at evening's prime, 
 Then come — if aught thou car'st for Corydon." 
 Tliyvsis. " Hark ! bitterer than wormwood may I be, 
 Bristling as broom, as drifted sea-weed cheap, 
 
 If this day seem not a long year to me i 
 
 Home, home for very shame, my o'er-fed sheep ! " 
 Corydon. " Ye mossy rills, and lawns more soft than 
 
 dreams, 
 Thinly roofed over by these leaves of green : 
 
 From the great heat — now summer's come, now teems 
 The jocund vine with buds — my cattle screen." 
 Thyrsis. " Warm hearth, good faggots, and great fires 
 
 you'll find 
 In my home : black with smoke are all its planks : 
 
 We laugh, who 're in it, at the chill north wind, 
 
 As wolves at troops of sheep, mad streams at banks." 
 Corydon. "Here furry chestnuts rise and juniper: 
 Heapt 'neath each tree the fallen apples lie : 
 
 All smiles. But, once let fair Alexis stir 
 
 From off these hills — and lo ! the streams are dry." 
 Thyrsis. " Thirsts in parched lands and dies the blighted 
 
 grass; 
 Vines lend no shadow to the mountain-height ; 
 
 But groves shall bloom again, when comes my lass ; 
 And in glad showers Jove descend in might." 
 Corydon. " Poplars Alcides likes, and Bacchus vines ; 
 Fair Venus myrtle, and Apollo bay ; 
 
 But while to hazel-leaves my love inclines, 
 Nor bays nor myrtles greater are than they." 
 Thyrsis. "Fair in woods ash; and pine on garden- 
 grass : 
 On tall cliffs fir ; by pools the poplar tree. 
 
 But if thou come here oft, sweet Lycidas, 
 
 Lawn-pine and mountain-ash must yield to thee." 
 Melibazus. All this I 've heard before : remember well 
 
 How Thyrsis strove in vain against defeat. 
 
 From that day forth 't was " Corydon " for me. 
 
 ECLOGUE VIII. 
 
 Alphesiboeus's and Damon's muse — 
 
 Charmed by whose strife the steer forgot to graze ; 
 
 Whose notes made lynxes motionless, and bade 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 125 
 
 Rivers turn back and listen — sing we next : 
 Alphesiboeus's and Damon's muse. 
 
 Winn'st thou the crags of great Timavus now, 
 Or skirtest strands where break Illyrian seas ? 
 I know not. But oh when shall that day dawn 
 When I may tell thy deeds ? give earth thy lays, 
 That match alone the pomp of Sophocles ? 
 With thee began, with thee shall end, my song : 
 Accept what thou didst ask ; and round thy brow 
 Twine this poor ivy with thy victor bays. 
 
 'T was at the hour when night's cold shadow scarce 
 Had left the skies ; when, blest by herdsmen, hangs 
 The dewdrop on the grass ; that Damon leaned 
 On his smooth olive-staff, and thus began. 
 
 " Wake, morning star ! Prevent warm day, and come ! 
 
 While, duped and humbled, I — because I loved 
 
 Nisa with all a husband's love — complain ; 
 
 And call the gods, (though naught their cognizance 
 
 Availed,) at my last hour, a dying man. 
 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
 " There forests murmur aye, and pines discourse ; 
 And lovelorn swains, and Pan, who first reclaimed 
 From idleness the reed, hath audience there, 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
 " Nisa — is aught impossible in love ? — 
 Is given to Mopsus. Griffins next will mate 
 With mares : our children see the coward deer 
 Come with the hound to drink. Go, shape the torch, 
 Mopsus ! fling, bridegroom, nuts ! Thou lead'st a wife 
 Home, and o'er (Eta peers the evening star. 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
 " Oh, mated with a worthy husband ! thou 
 
 Who scorn' st mankind — abhorr'st this pipe, these goats 
 
 Of mine, and shaggy brows, and hanging beard : 
 
 Nor think' st that gods can see what mortals do ! 
 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
126 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 "Within our or chard- walls I saw thee first, 
 
 A wee child with her mother — (I was sent 
 To guide you) — gathering apples wet with dew. 
 Ten years and one I scarce had numbered then ; 
 Could scarce on tiptoe reach the brittle boughs. 
 I saw, I fell, I was myself no more. 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
 " Now know I what love is ! On hard rocks born 
 Tmaros, or Rhodope, or they who dwell 
 In utmost Africa do father him ; 
 No child of mortal blood or lineage. 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
 " In her son's blood a mother dipt her hands 
 At fierce love's bidding. Hard was her heart too — 
 Which harder ? her heart or that knavish boy's ? 
 Knavish the boy, and hard was her heart too. 
 Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! 
 
 " Now let the wolf first turn and fly the sheep : 
 Hard oaks bear golden apples : daffodil 
 Bloom on the alder : and from myrtle-stems 
 Ooze richest amber. Let owls vie with swans ; 
 And be as Orpheus — Orpheus in the woods, 
 Arion with the dolphins — every swain, 
 (Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady ! ) 
 
 " And earth become mid ocean. Woods, farewell ! 
 Down from some breezy mountain height to the waves 
 I '11 fling me. Take this last gift ere I die. 
 Unlearn, my flute, the songs of Arcady ! " 
 
 Thus Damon. How the other made reply 
 Sing, sisters. Scarce may all do everything. 
 
 Alphesiboeus. "Fetch water: wreathe yon altar with 
 soft wool: 
 And burn rich vervain and brave frankincense ; 
 That I may try my lord's clear sense to warp 
 With dark rites. Naught is lacking save the songs. 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 127 
 
 " Songs can bring down the very moon from heaven. 
 Circe with songs transformed Ulysses' crew. 
 Songs shall in sunder burst the cold grass-snake. 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 " Three threads about thee, of three several hues, 
 
 I twine ; and thrice — (odd numbers please the god) — 
 
 Carry thy image round the altar-stones. 
 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 " Weave Amaryllis, in three knots three hues. 
 Just weave and say ' I 'm weaving chains of love.' 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 "As this clay hardens, melts this wax, at one 
 And the same flame : so Daphnis 'neath my love. 
 Strew meal, and light with pitch the crackling bay. 
 Daphnis burns me ; for Daphnis burn these bays. 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 " Be his such longing as the heifer feels, 
 
 When, faint with seeking her lost mate through copse 
 
 And deepest grove, beside some water-brook 
 
 In the green grass she sinks in her despair, 
 
 Nor cares to yield possession to the night. 
 
 Be his such longing : mine no wish to heal. 
 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. 
 
 " Pledges of love, these clothes the traitor once 
 Bequeathed me. I commit them, Earth, to thee 
 Here at my threshold. He is bound by these. 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 " These deadly plants great Mceris gave to me, 
 In Pontus plucked : in Pontus thousands grow. 
 By their aid have I seen him skulk in woods 
 A wolf, unsepulchre the buried dead, 
 And charm to other fields the standing corn. 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 " Go, Amaryllis, ashes in thy hand : 
 
 Throw them — and look not backwards — o'er thy head 
 
 Into a running stream. These next I '11 try 
 
128 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 On Daplinis ; who regards not gods nor songs. 
 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home ! 
 
 " See ! While I hesitate, a quivering flame 
 Hath clutched the wood, self-issuing from the ash. 
 May this mean good ! Something — for Hylas too 
 Barks at the gate — it must mean. Is it true ? 
 Or are we lovers dupes of our own dreams ? 
 Cease, songs, cease. Daphnis comes from the city 
 home ! " 
 
 ECLOGUE IX. 
 
 Lycidas. Moeris, on foot ? and on the road to town ? 
 
 Moeris. Oh Lycidas ! — we live to tell — how one — 
 (Who dreamed of this ?) — a stranger — holds our farm, 
 And says, " 'T is mine : its ancient lords, begone ! " 
 Beaten, cast down — for Chance is lord of all — 
 We send him — bootlessly mayhap — these kids. 
 
 Lycidas. Yet all, I heard, from where we lose yon hills, 
 With gradual bend down-sloping to the brook, 
 And those old beeches, broken columns now, 
 Had your Menalcas rescued by his songs. 
 
 Moeris. Thou heardst. Fame said so. But our songs 
 avail, 
 Moeris, no more mid warspears than, they say, 
 Dodona's doves may, when the eagle stoops. 
 A boding raven from a rifted oak 
 Warned me, by this means or by that to nip 
 This strange strife in the bud: or dead were now 
 Thy Moeris ; dead were great Menalcas too. 
 
 Lycidas. Could such curse fall on man ? Had we so 
 near 
 Lost thee, Menalcas, and thy pleasantries ? 
 Who then would sing the nymphs ? Who strow with 
 
 flowers 
 The ground, or train green darkness o'er the springs ! 
 And oh ! that song, which I (saying ne'er a word) 
 Copied one day — (while thou wert off to see 
 My darling, Amaryllis,) — from thy notes : 
 " Feed, while I journey but a few short steps, 
 Tityrus, my goats : and Tityrus, when they 've fed, 
 Lead them to drink : and cross not by the way 
 The he-goat's path : his horns are dangerous." 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 129 
 
 Moeris. But that to Varus, that unfinished one ! 
 "Varus ! thy name, if Mantua still be ours — 
 (Mantua! to poor Cremona all too near,) — 
 Shall tuneful swans exalt unto the stars." 
 
 Lycidas. Begin, if in thee 's aught. So may not yews 
 Of Cyrnus lure thy bees : so, clover-fed, 
 Thy cattle teem with milk. Me too the muse 
 Hath made a minstrel : I have songs ; and me 
 The swains call "poet." But I heed them not. 
 For scarce yet sing I as the great ones sing, 
 But, a goose, cackle among piping swans. 
 
 Moeris. Indeed, I am busy turning o'er and o'er — 
 In hopes to recollect it — in my brain 
 A song, and not a mean one, Lycidas. 
 " Come, Galatea ! sport'st thou in the waves ? 
 Here spring is purpling ; thick by river-banks 
 Bloom the gay flowers ; white poplar climbs above 
 The caves, and young vines plait a roof between. 
 Come ! and let mad seas beat against the shore ! " 
 
 Lycidas. What were those lines that once I heard thee 
 sing, 
 All uncompanioned on a summer night — 
 I know the music, if I had the words. 
 
 Moeris. " Daphnis ! why watch those old-world planets 
 rise? 
 Lo! onward marches sacred Caesar's star, 
 The star that made the valleys laugh with corn, 
 And grapes grow ruddier upon sunny hills. 
 Sow, Daphnis, pears, whereof thy sons shall eat." 
 
 — Time carries all — our memories e'en — away. 
 Well I remember how my boyish songs 
 Would oft outlast the livelong summer day. 
 And now they 're all forgot. His very voice 
 Hath Moeris lost : on Moeris wolves have looked. 
 
 — But oft thou 'It hear them from Menalcas yet. 
 Lycidas. Thy pleas but draw my passion out. And lo ! 
 
 All husht to listen is the wide sea-floor, 
 And laid the murmurings of the soughing winds. 
 And now we 're half-way there. I can descry 
 Bianor's grave. Here, Moeris, where the swains 
 Are raking off the thick leaves, let us sing. 
 Or, if we fear lest night meanwhile bring up 
 The rain clouds, singing let us journey on 
 
130 PUBLIUS VERGIL1US MARO. 
 
 (The way will seem less tedious) — journey on 
 Singing : and I will ease thee of thy load. 
 
 Maris. Cease, lad ! We '11 do what lies before us now : 
 Then sing our best, when comes the Master home. 
 
 ECLOGUE X. 
 
 Gallus. Oh Arethuse, let this last task be mine ! 
 One song — a song Lycoris' self may read — 
 My Gallus asks : who 'd grudge one song to him ? 
 So, when thou slidest 'neath Sicilian seas, 
 May ne'er salt Doris mix her stream with thine : 
 Begin : and sing — while yon blunt muzzles search 
 The underwood — of Gallus torn by love. 
 We lack not audience : woods take up the notes. 
 
 Where were ye, Naiad Nymphs, in grove or glen, 
 When Gallus died of unrequited love ? 
 Not heights of Pindus or Parnassus, no 
 Aonian Aganippe kept ye then. 
 Him e'en the laurels wept and myrtle-groves. 
 Stretcht 'neath the lone cliff, piny Masnalus 
 And chill Lycseum's stones all wept for him. 
 The sheep stood round. They think not scorn of us ; 
 And think not scorn, priest of song, of them ! 
 Sheep fair Adonis fed beside the brooks. 
 The shepherds came. The lazy herdsmen came. 
 Came, from the winter acorns dripping-wet, 
 Menalcas. " Whence," all ask, " this love of thine ? " 
 Apollo came: and, "Art thou mad," he saith, 
 " Gallus ? Thy love, through bristling camps and snows, 
 Tracks now another's steps." Silvanus came, 
 Crowned with his woodland glories : to and fro 
 Rocked the great lilies and the fennel bloom. 
 Pan came, Arcadia's Pan: (I have seen him, red 
 With elder-berries and with cinnabar:) 
 " Is there no end ? " quoth he : " Love heeds not this : 
 Tears sate not cruel Love : nor rills the leas, 
 Nor the bees clover, nor green boughs the goat." 
 But he rejoins sad-faced : " Yet sing this song 
 Upon your hills, Arcadians ! none but ye 
 Can sing. Oh ! pleasantly will rest my bones, 
 If pipe of yours shall one day tell my loves. 
 Oh ! had I been as you are ! kept your flocks, 
 
THE BUCOLICS. 131 
 
 Or gleaned, a vintager, your mellow grapes ! 
 
 A Phyllis, an Amyntas — whom you will — 
 
 Had been my passion — what if he be dark ? 
 
 Violets are dark and hyacinths are dark. — 
 
 And now should we be sitting side by side, 
 
 Willows around us and a vine o'erhead, 
 
 He carolling, or plucking garlands she. 
 
 — Here are cold springs, Lycoris, and soft lawns, 
 
 And woods : with thee I 'd here decay and die, 
 
 Now, for grim war accoutred, all for love, 
 
 In the fray's centre I await the foe : 
 
 Thou, in a far land — out the very thought ! — 
 
 Gazest (ah wilful !) upon Alpine snows 
 
 And the froz'n Ehine — without me — all alone! 
 
 May that frost harm not thee ! that jagged ice 
 
 Cut ne'er thy dainty feet ! I '11 go, and play 
 
 My stores of music — fashioned for the lyre 
 
 Of Chalcis — on the pipe of Arcady. 
 
 My choice is made. In woods, mid wild beasts' dens, 
 
 I '11 bear my love, and carve it on the trees : 
 
 That with their growth my loves may grow and grow. 
 
 Banded with nymphs I '11 roam o'er Msenalus, 
 
 Or hunt swift boars ; and circle with my dogs, 
 
 Unrecking of the cold, Parthenia's glades. 
 
 Already over crag and ringing grove 
 
 I am borne in fancy : laugh as I let loose 
 
 The Cretan arrow from the Parthian bow : — 
 
 Pooh ! will this heal thy madness ? will that god 
 
 Learn mercy from the agonies of men ? 
 
 'T is past : again nymphs, music, fail to please. 
 
 Again I bid the very woods begone. 
 
 No deed of mine can change him : though I drink 
 
 Hebrus in mid December : though I plunge 
 
 In snows of Thrace, the dripping winter's snows : 
 
 Though, when the parcht bark dies on the tall elm, 
 
 'Neath Cancer's star I tend the iEthiop's sheep. 
 
 Love 's lord of all. Let me too yield to Love." 
 
 — Sung are, oh holy ones, your minstrel's songs 
 Who sits here framing pipes with slender reed. 
 In Gallus' eyes will ye enhance their worth: 
 
132 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 G-allus — for whom each hour my passion grows, 
 As swell green alders when the spring is young. 
 I rise. The shadows are the singer's bane : 
 Baneful the shadow of the juniper. 
 E'en the flocks like not shadow. Go — the star 
 Of morning breaks — go home, my full-fed sheep ! 
 
 — Translation of Charles Stuart Calverly. 
 
 HARVEST STORMS. 
 
 "The Georgics." 
 
 Why should I speak of Autumn's stormy skies, 
 
 And stars that threaten tempest as they rise ? 
 
 Or watchful cautions to the swain repeat, 
 
 When the day shortens and when droops the heat ? 
 
 Or when the showery spring shall rush in vain 
 
 Or the spiked harvest bristle o'er the plain 
 
 And the green beard o'erswell with milky grain ? 
 
 While range the reapers o'er the yellow land 
 
 And cut the brittle stalks with griping hand. 
 
 Oft have I seen, in all their fury driven, 
 
 With battling concourse mix the winds of heaven : 
 
 Snatch from the clinging roots the ponderous corn, 
 
 Sudden aloft in gusty eddies borne : 
 
 Waft the light stems ; in blackening whirls up tear 
 
 The flying stalks and scatter them in the air. 
 
 And oft the immense battalia of the sky 
 
 Brooding dark showers, the thronged cloud stoop from 
 
 high! 
 Air rushes down and deluges the soil ; 
 Floats the high corn and drowns the oxen's toil. 
 The trenches fill ; the channelled rivers rise, 
 And the breathed spray from chafing ocean flies. 
 Himself, the ethereal father, hovering shrouds 
 His presence in a noon-day night of clouds ; 
 The lightnings from his gleaming hand are thrown ; 
 The wide earth shakes ; the beasts are fled and gone ; 
 Fear falls on men and quails their humbled hearts : 
 He smites huge Athos with his flamy darts : 
 The rocks of Rhodope disparted bow, 
 And ruin rives Ceraunia's smouldering brow : 
 
PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE. 133 
 
 Bains dash, in floods ; the gust redoubling roars ; 
 
 And howls, a mighty wind, from forests and from shores ! 
 
 Fear this and mark what monthly sign impends ; 
 
 Mark to what star cold Saturn's transit tends, 
 
 Or to what orbs, amidst the spacious sky, 
 
 Wander conjoined the tires of Mercury. 
 
 Pray, first the Gods ; and, on the herbage green, 
 
 When Spring, at Winter's fall, smiles out serene, 
 
 Bepeat the harvest rite ; and still revere 
 
 The mighty goddess of the golden year. 
 
 Then plump the lamb, then mild the wine, and sleep 
 
 Is soft, upon the mountain woodland's steep. 
 
 Let all the village Ceres' power adore ; 
 
 And milk and luscious wine with honey pour: 
 
 Thrice round the new-sprung corn the victim bear ; 
 
 And, in procession, rend with shouts the air ; 
 
 And Ceres call their humble roof to share. 
 
 Nor be the sickle's circling sweep begun, 
 
 When the ripe ears glow burnisht in the sun 
 
 Ere twisted oak-leaves bind the reaper's head, 
 
 Ere with boon songs the uncouth dance he tread. 
 
 That men, by signs unerring, might behold 
 The rains and heats and wind that waft the cold, 
 The Sire of Nature fixt his rules on high ; 
 Bade us the changes of the noon descry ; 
 By what prognostics winds are known to fall, 
 And swains, with watchful heed, their cattle stall. 
 When winds rise slow ; the sea's heaved surface swells 
 In weltering foam ; shrill crash the mountain dells ; 
 Shores echo deep the beat of distant floods, 
 And a low hollow sound runs murmuring through the 
 woods ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 PBAISES OF A COUNTBY LIFE. 
 
 "The Georgics." 
 
 Oh, peasants, far too blest, if only this 
 Were theirs, the simple knowledge of their bliss ! 
 Far from the din of arm, earth's foodful soil 
 With easy nutriment repays their toil. 
 
134 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Tho' not, at morn, their mansions' portals proud 
 
 Wide disembogue the ebbing flatterer crowd ; 
 
 No pillars chased with shells they rapt behold; 
 
 Busts of fine brass, nor arras wrought with gold ; 
 
 Tho' their white wool no Syrian venom paint, 
 
 And their pure oil no foreign perfume taint ; 
 
 Yet rich in various wealth the peasant knows 
 
 A life ingenuous and a safe repose. 
 
 Calm fields, fresh dells, grots, limpid lakes, the breeze 
 
 Echoing with herds, and slumbers bowered with trees. 
 
 Here beasts of chase the lawn or forest range ; 
 
 Youth, trained to little, toils, nor sighs for change ; 
 
 All to the Gods a solemn reverence pay, 
 
 And holy shine the locks of silver gray ; 
 
 Here Justice lingered, this her last retreat ; 
 
 Here left the print of her departing feet. 
 
 Sweeter than all that rural peace bestows, 
 
 May they, whose love intense within me glows ; 
 
 Whose fillets crown me and whose raptures fire, 
 
 Oh, may the Muses rank me of their quire ! 
 
 Theirs to reveal, before my lifted eye, 
 
 The paths of stars and wonders of the sky : 
 
 Whence sinks the solar disk in shade profound, 
 
 Whence the moon labours and whence rocks the ground ; 
 
 Why, bursting o'er its bounds, heaves high the main, 
 
 And, rolled within itself, is calm again ; 
 
 Why wintry suns dip swift their westering lights 
 
 In Ocean's wave, or slow delay the lingering nights. 
 
 But if these walks of Nature be denied, 
 
 If cold and sluggish creep my vital tide, 
 
 Be woodlands, then, my joy, and bubbling springs 
 
 That down the valleys branch their murmurings ; 
 
 Yes — let me, lost to fond ambition's dreams, 
 
 Inglorious love the forests and the streams. 
 
 Plains, where Spercheus rolls his waters deep. 
 
 Taygetus, above whose craggy steep 
 
 The Spartan maid in Bacchic orgies flies, 
 
 Oh, wherefore are ye hidden from mine eyes ? 
 
 Who now shall lay me down to feel the gale 
 
 That freshening breathes in Hsemus' breezy vale ? 
 
 Stretch broad the giant branches o'er the glade, 
 
 And screen me with immensity of shade ? 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
CAUTION AGAINST SNAKES. 135 
 
 CAUTION AGAINST SNAKES. 
 
 Burn cedar in thy stalls; forth startling shake, 
 With fumes of viscid gum, the fetid snake! 
 Oft, underneath the massive manger bred, 
 The touch-repelling viper skulks his head, 
 Scared at the gloaming sky : the adder crawls, 
 Fostered in gloom and trained to sheltering walls : 
 The bitter plague of herds, with poisonous wound 
 Tainting the flock, he cherishes the ground. 
 Swain ! snatch a stone ; snatch, quick, a sapling oak, 
 Beat down his crest and crush him at a stroke : 
 While threatening to arise, his head ascends, 
 While his swoln throat the rattling hiss distends. 
 See, deep in earth he hides his recreant head ; 
 His middle folds in loosened trailings spread ; 
 Now the last winding of his length retires, 
 And drags in tardy rings its lingering spires. 
 Calabria's forest screens a mortal pest, 
 Kolling its scaly back, and towering on its breast. 
 Spotted with lengthening streaks his belly gleams ; 
 And, while the fountains burst in gushing streams, 
 And the moist spring and showery south winds cool 
 The grassy earth, he haunts the bank and pool ; 
 There ravening gluts his blackening maw, with brood 
 Of croaking frogs and fishes of the flood. 
 When heat the marshes dries and rives the ground 
 He leaps to land and writhes his fiery eyes around; 
 Haggard with thirst, he rages on his way, 
 Scared with the burning agony of day. 
 Ah, may I not beneath the open sky, 
 Behind some wood, on verdure, slumbering, lie 
 When, his cast slough abandoned in the brake, 
 Sleek in new youth, rolls forth the glistening snake ; 
 Starts from his caverned eggs, or scaly young, 
 Soars on the sun and forks his quivering tongue ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
136 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 THE DEAD OX. 
 
 "The Georgics." 
 
 Lo ! smoking in the stubborn plough, the ox 
 Falls, from his lip foam gushing crimson-stained, 
 And sobs his life out. Sad of face the ploughman 
 Moves, disentangling from his comrade's corpse 
 The lone survivor : and its work half-done, 
 Abandoned in the furrow stands the plough. 
 Not shadiest forest-depths, not softest lawns, 
 May move him now : not river amber-pure, 
 That tumbles o'er the cragstones to the plain. 
 Powerless the broad sides, glazed the rayless eye, 
 And low and lower sinks the ponderous neck. 
 What thank hath he for all the toil he toiled, 
 The heavy-clodded land in man's behoof 
 Upturning ? Yet the grape of Italy, 
 The stored-up feast hath wrought no harm to him : 
 Green leaf and taintless grass are all their fare ; 
 The clear rill or the travel-freshened stream 
 Their cup : nor one care mars their honest sleep. 
 
 — Translation of Charles Stuart Calverlt. 
 
 THE AEEIVAL OF .ENEAS AT CAETHAGE. 
 
 "The .Eneid." 
 
 There was an auncient Citty, peopled by 
 The Tyrian Colonies, to Italy, 
 And f arre-remoued Tiber opposite ; 
 Hight Carthage, proud in wealth, and fierce in fight. 
 In Iuno's loue then all on earth more deare ; 
 More pris'd then JSamos : here her charriot, here 
 Her armes she plac't : this foster' d, this had made 
 The Worlds great Head, had Destenyes obayd. 
 But she had heard the Troian Progeny 
 Hereafter should the Tyrian towers destroy : 
 Thence that farre-ruling Eace, in battaile bold, 
 Should Libya wast : This fate the Parce told. 
 This feares, those armes remembers, which before 
 
ARRIVAL OF J2NEAS AT CARTHAGE. 137 
 
 Troys walls she for her much lou'd Argos bore: 
 
 Old seeds of wrath, and bitter griefe, infest 
 
 As yet her mind : deepe rooted in her brest 
 
 Was Paris Iudgement, and the iniury 
 
 Of her despised forme ; His kindred high 
 
 In her distast ; and /cwe-rapt Ganimed 
 
 To honours rais'd : her flame this fuell fed. 
 
 Who f arre from Latium droue the Troians, tost 
 
 On Seaes ; poore Reliques, which the Grecian Hoast 
 
 And dire Achilles fury left vnslaine : 
 
 Wandring through all th' vnhospitable maine 
 
 For many winters, driven by force of Fate. 
 
 A worke so great to raise the Roman state. 
 
 Sicilia yet in sight, they hoise their sailes, 
 
 And plough the f oming brine with prosperous gailes : 
 
 When Iuno, who in rancled bosome bare 
 
 Eternall wounds, thus said ; Must I despaire 
 
 And yeild my selfe as vanquisht ? Cannot I 
 
 This Troian Prince devert from Italy ? 
 
 Because the Fates forbid. Could Pallas tier 
 
 The Grecian Fleete, and drowne them in her ire, 
 
 For one mans sin ; Oileus rapef ull loue ? 
 
 She horrid lightning from the clouds of loue 
 
 Flung on their shippes, and seas with stormes vp-turnd : 
 
 Him, vometing hot flames, his entrailes burnd, 
 
 Her whirlewinds fixt on poynted rocks. But I, 
 
 Ioues sister, wife and empresse of the sky, 
 
 Still with one nation warre : who will adore 
 
 Our Power, or offer on our altars more ? 
 
 She this revolving in her burning brest 
 
 T' JEolia flyes, the land of windes, possest 
 
 By JEolus : who here in fetters bindes 
 
 The howling Tempests, and still strugling windes ; 
 
 Pent in vast caues : they muteny the more, 
 
 And in the hollow mountaine lowdly rore. 
 
 Great ^Jolus, thron'd in a lofty tower, 
 
 With scepter calmes their rage, and curbes their power ; 
 
 Else Sea, Earth, and high heauen, that heady throng 
 
 Would sweepe away, and hurry all along. 
 
 Almighty loue, this fearing, these inclos'd 
 
 In pitchy caues ; high hills thereon impos'd : 
 
 And gaue a King, who knew how to restraine, 
 
 To calme their strife, and when to giue the reine. 
 
138 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Whom Iuno thus intreats. ^Eolus, 
 
 (For vnto thee, the King of men, and vs, 
 
 Giue power to smoothe, and lift the floods on high :) 
 
 A nation, long with me at enmity, 
 
 Now sailes through Tyrrhen Seas ; who Ilium 
 
 Would bring to Italy, and Gods' ore-corn : 
 
 Their ships strike with thy stormes ; or bury these 
 
 In the vast deepe, or scatter on the seas. 
 
 Twice seauen Nymphs serue me, elegantly faire; 
 
 Yet none with Deiopcea may compare : 
 
 Her for this merit, I to thee will ioyne 
 
 In constant wedlock, to be only thine : 
 
 She shall thy bed and boord for euer grace 
 
 And make thee father to a goodly race. 
 
 Then JEolus: Queene, 'tis thine to will; 
 
 My duty thy commaundment to fulfill. 
 
 This kingdom e, scepter, and my grace with Ioue, 
 
 Sprung from thy bounty ; that I feast aboue 
 
 Among the Gods : by thee so potent made 
 
 O're tempests and proud stormes. This hardly said, 
 
 His launce into the hollow mountaine pusht : 
 
 Windes as in troopes through that wide passage rusht. 
 
 Earth rend with whirl windes : on vast seas now raue. 
 
 East, South, South-west windes, ioyntly quit the caue 
 
 In hideous gusts ; high billows driue to shore : 
 
 Shrouds rattle, men cry out, and surges rore. 
 
 Eorth-with darke clowdes from Troians take the sight 
 
 Of Heauen, and Day ; the Sea vsurpt by Night. 
 
 Skies thunder, and quick lightning fires the aire : 
 
 All menace instant mine. Cold despaire 
 
 Dissolues iEneas feoble knees : dismaid, 
 
 He sighs, and hand to heauen erecting said : 
 
 Thrice happy you, who in your parents sight 
 
 Before Troy fell in honourable fight. 
 
 Diomed, of Greefces the most renoun'd, 
 
 Why could not thy strong hand this life confound 
 
 In Phrigian fields ? Where great Sarpedon, where 
 
 Brave Hector fell by fierce Achilles speare : 
 
 Where Simois in his tainted streames o'rewhelmes 
 
 So many worthies, heapes of sheilds and helmes. 
 
 This vtterd, from the North the lowd wind warres ; 
 
 Flats all their sailes ; swolne seas advans'd to starres. 
 
 Ores crack : the winding ships their sides expose 
 
 - 
 
ARRIVAL OF jENEAS AT CARTHAGE. 139 
 
 To crushing floods, which, in huge mountaines rose. 
 
 These on high billowes hang ; the yawning waues 
 
 Shew those their bottom sands, and troubled graues. 
 
 By Southwindes rapt, on hidden rocks three fall, 
 
 (Those fatall rocks th' Italians Altars call) 
 
 The seas all-wracking Ridge : three Eurus spight 
 
 Droue on dire Syi'ts (a lamentable sight) 
 
 Bilgd on the flats, in quick-sands wrapt. Before 
 
 His eyes, a mighty Sea o're that which bore 
 
 Paithfull Orontes and his Licians flew 
 
 And from the Poope the Maister head-long threw : 
 
 Then in swift eddies turnes ; thrice hurries round 
 
 The foundred vessell, in that whirlepit drownd. 
 
 Armes, plancks, and Troian riches, here and there 
 
 Flote on broad seaes. And now these tumults tere 
 
 Iliones strong ship ; the shippes which bold 
 
 Achates held ; which Abas, which the old 
 
 Alethes bore : the hostil water breakes 
 
 Through all their ript-vp seames, and springing leakes. 
 
 Neptune meane while perceiu'd the sea to rore 
 With blustring windes, which from the bottome tore 
 The tost-vp waues, incenst, the cause suspects ; 
 And o're the flood his sacred head erects. 
 There sees JEneas wretched fleet distrest : 
 His Troian friends by seas and skies opprest. 
 Iuno's deceipt and hate her brother knew 
 Who Zephyrus and Eurus hales : Are you 
 (Said he) so confident in your high birth; 
 That dare, without our leaue, mix heauen with earth, 
 And with your tumults swell th' imaged Seas ? 
 Which I — Yet first we will our floods appease : 
 Nor shall like insolencies be forgot. 
 Fly timely hence ; and tell your King, the lot 
 Gaue vs, not him, the empire of the Deepes, 
 And this f ear'd Trident. Ragged rocks hee keepes ; 
 Eurus, your court : there let him domineare ; 
 And o're th' incaued windes his Scepter beare. 
 Sooner then said, he calmes the boistrous maine ; 
 Scatters the cloudes, the Sun restores againe. 
 Cymothoe, Tryton, now their force vnite ; 
 Ships shoue from rocks, rais'd by his Tridents might : 
 He loosens the vast Syrts, the surges raignes ; 
 And rakes with nimble wheiles the liquid Plaines. 
 
140 PUBL1US VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 As when Sedition often flames among 
 A mighty People, the ignoble throng 
 To out-rage fall : then stones and fier-brands fly ; 
 Rage armes provides : when they by chance espy 
 One reverenst for his worth, all silent stay 
 With listening eares ; whose graue perswasions sway, 
 And pacify their mindes : so when the rude 
 Tumultuous Seas their King and Father viewd, 
 Their fury fell. Who vnder clear'd-vp skies 
 With slack rein'd steeds on prosperous charriot flyes. 
 Altering their course, the weary Troians stand 
 For nearest shores, and reach the Libyan strand. 
 Deepe in a Bay and He with stretcht-out sides 
 A Harbor makes, and breakes the iustling tides : 
 The parting floods into a land-lockt sound 
 Their streames discharge, with rocks invirond round : 
 Whereof two, equall lofty, threat the skyes ; 
 Vnder whose lee the safe Sea silent lies : 
 Their browes with darke and trembling woods arayd 
 Whose spreading branches cast a dreadfull shade. 
 Within the hanging rock a caue, well knowne 
 To sacred Sea-nymphs, bencht with living stone, 
 In fountaines fruitfull. Here no hauser bound 
 The shaken shipps, nor anchor broke the ground. 
 Hether JEneas brought seuen ships (no more 
 Were left of all) ; the much-desired shore 
 The Troians now possesse : who land in hast, 
 And on the beach their Sea-sick bodies cast. 
 Then fler from flints Achates strikes : touch -wood 
 The sparks receaues, inlarg'd with flaming food. 
 Corne, in salt water drencht, they spent and pin'd 
 In hast produce ; some parch on coles, some grind. 
 Meanwhile ^Eneas climbes a steepe ascent ; 
 And throws his eyes on all the seas extent, 
 In search of Phrygian ships : for Anthus, chac't 
 In stormes ; for Caphis; for the bright armes plac't 
 On Caicus high poope ; but none descry 'd. 
 Three stragling staggs then on the shore espy'd, 
 Who all the heard, that followed sloly, led ; 
 And now along the ranker vally fed. 
 His bow and quiver, which Achates bore, 
 In hast he snatcht ; and those that stalkt before 
 (Their branched homes aloft advancing) slew : 
 
ARRIVAL OF jENEAS AT CARTHAGE. 141 
 
 Then to the couert they the rest pursew ; 
 
 Nor left, till seauen lay bathed in their blood : 
 
 The number of those ships which scap't the flood. 
 
 Return'd to euery one doth one afford : 
 
 Then wine (by good Acestes laid aboard 
 
 When lately they Trinacria left) imparts 
 
 In flowing bowles ; thus chearing their sad hearts. . . . 
 
 Pious uflneas, hauing spent the night 
 
 In wakefull cares, arose with ea,rly light ; 
 
 To make discouery on what Country cast ; 
 
 Whether by beasts (since all lay wild and wast) 
 
 Or men possest : this seriously intends ; 
 
 And to impart his knowledge to his friends. 
 
 Vnder a hanging rock the Navy lay, 
 
 Conceal'd with trees, which made a night of day. 
 
 With him he bold Achates onely tooke 
 
 And in his hand two steele-tipt iauelins shooke. 
 
 His mother meets him in the silvan shade ; 
 
 Arm'd and accoutred like a Spartan Maid : 
 
 Or like the swift Harpalice of Tlirace; 
 
 Out-stripping steeds, and Hebers heady Race. 
 
 The Huntresse on her shoulder hung her bow ; 
 
 In amarous windes her dangling tresses flow, 
 
 Her spreading garments tuckt aboue the knee ; 
 
 Who thus began : Harke young-men, did you see 
 
 None of my Quiver-bearing sisters, clad 
 
 In Lynxes skinnes ? Nor heard them when they had 
 
 The foming bore in chace, with shouts and cryes ? 
 
 This Venus spake, thus Venus son replies : 
 
 Wee nor thy sisters saw, nor heard their cry. 
 
 But o what art thou ? sure a deity ! 
 
 Such beauty shines not in a mortall face ; 
 
 Nor spake they so that are of humane race ; 
 
 Or Phoebus sister, or a Nymph thou art : 
 
 What ere, o favour ! and relief e impart : 
 
 Say, vnder what strange clime ? In all the round 
 
 Of Earth, what land haue our misfortunes found ? 
 
 Here wander we, the place nor people knowne ; 
 
 By Seas and tempests on this country throwne : 
 
 Thy Alters our fat offering shall imbrew. 
 
 She thus reply'd : Such honours are not dew. 
 The Tyrian virgins quivers vse to beare : 
 
142 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 And purple buskins, bound with ribands, weare. 
 
 The Punick Kealmes, Agenors Citty, man'd 
 
 By Tyrians, know; though in the Lybian land: 
 
 A nation great in arrries. Here Dido raignes ; 
 
 Who fled from Tyrus, and her brothers traines. 
 
 The iniuries and circumstance to tell 
 
 At large, were long : in brief it thus befell. 
 
 JSychceus was her spouse, in wealth aboue 
 
 All that Phoznitia knew ; nor lesse her loue. 
 
 To him her sire, with sacred Auguries, 
 
 In nuptiall bands the modest Virgin tyes. 
 
 And now her brother, dire Pigmalion, held 
 
 The Tyrian scepter : he in ill exceld 
 
 Even men possest with hellish Furies : who 
 
 With trecherous hands before the alter slew 
 
 Secure Sychceus : by the blind desire 
 
 Of gold incenst ; and slights his sisters fire. 
 
 The murder long conceal' d, with many wiles 
 
 And flattering hopes, the louers griefe beguiles. 
 
 When lo, her husbands Ghost (he vninterd) 
 
 In dead of sleepe, with gastly looke appear' d : 
 
 The bloody altar, his deepe wounds displaies ; 
 
 With all the secret murderer bewrayes. 
 
 Then charg'd her to forsake that place with speed : 
 
 And hidden treasure to supply her need 
 
 Eeveales. These motiues Dido's thoughts incite : 
 
 Who mustering vp her friends, prepares for flight. 
 
 Such flock about her, who or hate or feare 
 
 The Tyrant. Now in seaz'd-on ships they beare 
 
 Their wealth to Sea ; with it ill purchased 
 
 Pygmalions treasure ; by a woman led : 
 
 And there arriu'd, where now to lofty skies 
 
 The stately walls and towers of Carthage rise 
 
 The purchas'd soyle called Brisa : built within 
 
 The compasse of a Bulls extended skin. 
 
 But what are you ? Whence come you ? whether bound ? 
 
 He sighing said, his words in passion drownd : 
 Goddesse, should I from their originall 
 Our sufferings tell ; should you giue eare to all 
 The Annals of our toyles, approching Night 
 First in Olympus would inclose the light. 
 We auntient Troians (if that name be knowne) 
 Long tost on sundry seas ; by tempests throwne 
 
ARRIVAL OF jENEAS AT CARTHAGE. 143 
 
 On Lybian shores : ^Eneas is my name, 
 
 Who bring with me my rescu'd Gods ; my fame 
 
 Surmountes the starres : now Italy, the place 
 
 From whence we sprung, we seeke ; Ioues sacred Bace 
 
 Lost Phrygia I with twenty ships forsooke ; 
 
 And by my mother-Goddesse counsell, tooke 
 
 The way which fates preserib'd : seauen, vnbereft 
 
 By seas, and cruell stormes, alone are left. 
 
 Vnknowne, distressed, on the Libyan wast 
 
 We stray ; from Asia and from Europ chast. 
 
 Venus the sad expressions of his hart 
 Thus gently interrupts : What ere thou art, 
 Thou by the favour of the heavenly Powers 
 Surviu'st to see the Cathaginian towers. 
 Goe on to Dido's Court : thy men againe 
 (Vnlesse my skill in Augury be vaine) 
 And scattered ships, thou shalt in safety find ; 
 Borne into harbor by the Northerne wind. 
 Twelue ioyful swans behold, late chased by 
 Ioues towring Eagle through the empty sky ; 
 Which now in ordered files together light 
 On vnder earth ; or thither bend their flight ; 
 How freed from danger, sporting in a ring, 
 They clap their siluer wings, and ioyntly sing : 
 Even so those storme-chas'd ships in glad consort 
 Are entred, or now safely saile to Port. 
 Proceede, and tread that ready path. This said 
 In turning she her rosy neck displayd 
 Her tresses with Ambrosia dewd expire 
 A heauenly odor ; her inlarg'd attire 
 Trailes on the ground : her gate a goddesse showes. 
 He by these signes his flying Mother knowes ; 
 And thus pursuews her : Art thou cruell growne ? 
 Why dost thou, to deceaue thy sod, put on 
 Such varied figures ? O, why may not wee 
 Ioyne hands, discourse, and seem the same we be. 
 Accusing thus, his way to Carthage holds : 
 Whom Venus in a dusky clowd infolds ; 
 That none may see them in that gloomy mask, 
 Hurt, hinder, or their cause of comming ask. 
 The pleased Queene to Paphos then retires, 
 Where stood her Temples : there a hundred tiers 
 (Whose flagrant flames Sabean gums devoures) 
 
14-i PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Blaze on as many altars, crownd with flowers. 
 
 Meanewhile they both the troden path pursue, 
 And from a hill the neighbouring Citty view : 
 That ample Pile (a village late) they then 
 Admire ; the gates, the streets, and noise of men. 
 The Tyrians ply their taskes : some bulwarks reare, 
 Strong walls extend, and stones or roule or beare : 
 Some seats for houses choose, some lawes proiect, 
 Graue Magistrates and Senators elect. 
 Here these an ample Heuen dig ; there they 
 For lofty Theaters foundations lay : 
 Others in quarries mighty Pillars hew, 
 To grace the Spectacles that should ensew. 
 Industrious Bees so in the prime of May 
 By sun-shine through the flowry meddows stray, 
 When they produce their young, or store their hiue 
 With liquid hony, or in cabins stiue 
 That pleasant Nectar : when they take the loads 
 Which others bring, or chase from their aboads 
 The lazy drone ; the hony redolent 
 With flowers of thime : all hot on labour bent. 
 O happy you whose citty thus aspires. 
 (^Eneas said) and her high roofes admires. 
 With that (o wonderful !) wrapt in a clowd, 
 Invisible he mingles with the crowd. 
 A shady groue amidst the Citty stood : 
 Here Tyrians erst, when by the raging flood 
 And furious tempests on those borders throwne, 
 Dig'd vp a Horses head, by Iuno showne : 
 Which never-failing Plenty did fore-tell; 
 And here they should in glorious armes excell. 
 Here Tyrian Dido Iuntfs Temple plac'd ; 
 In offerings rich, by her faire statue grac'd : 
 The staires of brasse, the beames with brasse were bound, 
 The brazen doores on grinding hinges sound. 
 The sights within this sumptuous Fane his feare 
 Did first asswage ; and first tineas here 
 Durst hope for safety, his sad spirits rais'd. 
 
 — Translation of George Sandys (ed. of 1632). 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 145 
 
 THE FUNERAL GAMES FOE, ANCHISES. 
 "^Eneid," V. 
 
 Soon as the vessels to deep sea came, no land with, the 
 
 eye 
 Seen any longer, around them the waters, above them 
 
 the sky, 
 Purple cloud drave over the hero's head, in its womb 
 Carrying darkness and storm, and the waves grew rough 
 
 with the gloom. 
 Even the pilot himself, Palinurus, cries from his post : 
 " Why these clouds that encompass the heavens in a 
 
 gathering host? 
 What doom, lord of the billows, awaits us ? " Then in 
 
 a breath 
 Bids them to reef all canvas, and bend with a will to the 
 
 oars, 
 Now to the tempest trimming his sails : " Great hero," 
 
 he saith, 
 "Even were Jove Immortal to plight me his heavenly 
 
 faith, 
 Never with skies like these can I reach the Italian 
 
 shores. 
 Shifting winds roar contrary ways, from the blackening 
 
 west 
 Eising in force, and the mists of the air into cloud are 
 
 prest ; 
 All too feeble the vessels to strive therewith, or essay 
 Head to the storm. Since Fate is the sovereign, ours to 
 
 obey 
 Turn our course at her bidding ! Methinks not far on the 
 
 sea 
 Sicily's coasts and the kingdoms of brotherly Eryx be, 
 If I aright have remembered the stars observed on the 
 
 way." 
 Quoth JEneas : " In sooth this many an hour, it is plain, 
 Such is the will of the breezes, and all thy labour is vain. 
 Alter the course. What welcomer shore can a Teucrian 
 
 find, 
 More to desire as a shelter for ships outworn by the wind, 
 Than where Acestes of Troy still breathes sweet life, and 
 
 the blest 
 
146 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Ashes and bones of a father in earth are folded to rest ? " 
 So for the haven they make once more, and a following 
 
 gale, 
 Risen from the west inflates with a favouring breath their 
 
 sail. 
 Over the heaving billows the ships of the Teucrians go ; 
 Gladly at last to an anchor are brought on the beach they 
 
 know. 
 High on a neighbouring mountain, Acestes, king of the 
 
 land, 
 Armed with his javelins grim, in the skin of a Libyan 
 
 bear, 
 Saw with amaze Troy's vessels arrive, then sped to the 
 
 strand. 
 Son of the river Crimissus, his mother an Ilian fair, 
 Trojan of race, he remembered his great forefathers, and 
 
 bade 
 Joy to the crews of returning, his rustic treasures dis- 
 played, 
 Aided and solaced the tired. 
 
 When the morrow's morn with her bright 
 Eastern rays first scattered the flying stars of the night, 
 Scouring the sand of the wide sea-shore, iEneas his clan 
 Summoned to council, and thus from a rising hillock 
 
 began: 
 
 " Glorious race of the Dardans ! Immortal sons of the 
 
 sky ! 
 One year, lo ! is complete, one circle of moons gone by, 
 Since all mortal remains of a sainted father we laid 
 Here in the earth, and the sorrowful altars dressed to his 
 
 shade. 
 Soon, if I err not, the day draws dear, that forever shall be 
 Mournful and ever revered — so Destiny wills it — to me. 
 Exile were I to spend it on quick Gaetulian sands, 
 Found at its dawn within Argive seas, or a Danaan's 
 
 lands, 
 Still should annual victims, and solemn pomp for the 
 
 dead 
 Ever be paid, and his altar with funeral offerings spread. 
 Now at his tomb, by his own dear ashes, his children 
 
 stand, 
 Guided hither, methinks, by the Gods' invisible hand. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 147 
 
 Driven to a brotherly shore and its havens by winds of 
 
 the deep, 
 Come, and with cheerful honour the dead in remembrance 
 
 keep. 
 Ask at his tomb for a fair sea-wind. May he grant me 
 
 the joy 
 Gifts like these ere long, in a new-built city of Troy, 
 Year by year on an altar his name has hallowed to place. 
 Two huge oxen, Acestes, the Trojan-born, of his grace 
 Gives unto each of the ships. This night to the banquet 
 
 command 
 Ilion's gods, and the gods of Acestes, king of the land. 
 After the ninth fair morning for mortal men has unfurled 
 Genial day, and the rays of the dawn uncurtained the 
 
 world, 
 I with a race of the vessels will open the Trojan games. 
 Every runner of speediest foot, each hero who claims 
 Praise for his arrow light or his javelin, all who demand 
 Boldly to enter the battle with cestus-gauntleted hand, 
 Let them attend, and aspire each brave to the conqueror's 
 
 palm. 
 Crown ye with boughs; and be hushed, all voices, in 
 
 holiest calm." 
 
 Then with the myrtle of Venus the chieftain wreathes 
 
 him. With joy 
 Helymus, aged Acestes, adorn their foreheads ; the boy 
 Ascan obeys the behest, and the youthful gallants of 
 
 Troy. 
 While from the council assembled, the son with his 
 
 thousands around 
 Strides in the midst of the host to the father's funeral 
 
 mound ; 
 Twain huge flagons of wine unwatered, of new milk 
 
 twain, 
 Pours for libation, and two great bowls of the blood of 
 
 the slain. 
 Scattering bright-hued flowers on the tomb : " All hail," 
 
 he exclaims, 
 "Ashes of one whom vainly I rescued once from the 
 
 flames, 
 Spirit and shade of my sire, all hail ! Not mine the 
 
 emprise 
 
148 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 By thy side to attain to the promised Italian skies, 
 Seeking an unknown Tiber on far Ausonia's soil." 
 
 Ere he had uttered the word, amid sevenfold masses of 
 
 coil, 
 Sliding in seven great rings, from the sacred hollows of 
 
 gloom 
 Trailed an enormous serpent, in peace wreathed over the 
 
 tomb, 
 Silently gliding from altar to altar, his every fold 
 Chequered with dark blue blots ; bright patches of fiery 
 
 gold 
 Burned on his scales, as the bow from a raincloud break- 
 ing anon 
 Flashes a thousand colours, that glance in the distant sun. 
 Spellbound stood iEneas. The serpent in long array 
 Made through flagons and polished cups his sinuous way, 
 Tasted the feast, then, leaving the altars where he had 
 
 fed, 
 Entered in peace once more the sepulchral mound of the 
 
 dead. 
 Whether his sire's familiar, or genius haunting the shore 
 Thus be revealed him, he knows not, renews his rites but 
 
 the more ; 
 Slays, as is meet, twain ewes of the yester year at the 
 
 shrine, 
 Two young heifers with darkening backs, two votive 
 
 swine ; 
 Pours from the bowl libation, and summons back from 
 
 the grave 
 Great Anehises' ghost, set free from the Acheron wave. 
 Gladly his comrades offer, as each can spare of his cheer, 
 Gifts, load every altar, and slaughter many a steer ; 
 Brazen caldrons appoint to the fire, then, stretched on the 
 
 sward, 
 Under the spits live embers place, roast flesh for the 
 
 board. 
 
 THE SHIP RACE. 
 
 ? T was the expected day, and the Sun-god's horses had 
 
 borne 
 Upwards in light unclouded the ninth fair queen of the 
 
 morn. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 149 
 
 Led by the name and the fame of Acestes, king of the 
 
 land, 
 Tribes from the marches gather in concourse gay to the 
 
 strand, 
 Eager some to compete, and the Teucrians some to 
 
 behold. 
 Gifts are arranged in the centre before all eyes to be 
 
 seen ; 
 Tripods meet for the priest and the altar, garlands of 
 
 green, 
 Branches of palm for the conqueror's meed, bright arms 
 
 for the bold, 
 Raiment dipt in the purple, with talents silver and gold. 
 Hark ! from the central hill 't is the trumpet sounds for 
 
 the games ! 
 Pickt from the fleet four equal barks, each ponderous- 
 oared, 
 Enter the watery lists. Here Mnestheus, noblest of 
 
 names, 
 Teucrian warrior now — ere long an Italian lord — 
 Urges the flying Dragon, her crew all keen for the race : 
 Sire of the Memmian house. There Gyas steers to his 
 
 place, 
 Handling the huge Chimsera, immense of bulk and of 
 
 span, 
 Vast as a floating town. Three tiers that his Teucrians 
 
 man, 
 Triple banks uplifted in order over the brine, 
 Drive her. The great Sergestus, from whom our Sergian 
 
 clan, 
 Sails in the Centaur tall; and the dark blue Scylla is 
 
 thine, 
 Haughty Cloanthus, father of Eome's Cluentian line. 
 
 Far in the deep sea facing the foam- white shore is a 
 
 rock; 
 Ever, when stars are veiled and the northern hurricane 
 
 raves, 
 Drowned in the billows, and lashed by the thundering 
 
 water shock ; 
 Silent in summer weather, it springs from the slumbering 
 
 waves 
 Level and bare, and is haunted of sea-gulls loving the sun. 
 
150 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Bough of a liolin-oak green, ere race of the ships has 
 
 begun, 
 Yonder the kind chief sets, as a sign for the mariner oar, 
 Whence to return and to sweep at a distance round to 
 
 the shore. 
 Duly by lot their places are chosen ; in purple and gold 
 High on the stern the commanders shine, all bright to 
 
 behold. 
 Poplar branches for garlands the joyous mariners twine, 
 Bared and anointed shoulders with glistening unguent 
 
 shine. 
 Benches are manned. All arms reach eagerly, grasping 
 
 the oar 5 
 Hearts to the signal strain. Through rioting pulses run 
 Throbbing fear and desire of immortal praise to be won. 
 Then at the ringing sound of the clarion, halting no 
 
 more, 
 Each from the station suddenly bounds; shouts roll to 
 
 the sky ; 
 Under the swing of the shoulders the foam-flakes rapidly 
 
 fly- 
 
 Side by side deep furrows are cloven, the great sea gapes, 
 Rent to a chasm by the blades and the beaks with their 
 
 trident shapes. 
 Not so swiftly the cars in the two-wheeled chariot race 
 Scour the expanse of plain, stream forth from the barrier 
 
 space; 
 Not so plunges the yoke, when the charioteer as he speeds 
 Tosses his flowing reins, and arising, lashes his steeds. 
 
 Thundering voices and loud applause from the wood- 
 lands sound, 
 
 Koll from the land-locked shores, from the mountains 
 echo around. 
 
 Ear to the front shoots G-yas, of crowd and of thunder 
 clear, 
 
 Gliding ahead on the water. Cloanthus follows in rear ; 
 
 Better his service of oars, but his vessel's ponderous size 
 
 Heavily stays him. Behind, at an equal interval, vies 
 
 Dragon with Centaur vast for the foremost lead on the 
 bow. 
 
 Now 't is the Dragon hath it — the Centaur passes her 
 now. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 151 
 
 Beak by beak and together the pair now travel in line, 
 Each with her long keel ploughing in lengthened furrows 
 
 the brine. 
 Nearer the ships had drawn meanwhile to the reef and 
 
 the mark, 
 When, still leading the van, midway on the watery realm, 
 G-yas shouts to Menoetes, the master guiding his bark : 
 " Whither away to the starboard seas ? Turn hither the 
 
 helm ; 
 Cling to the shore, graze lightly the larboard rocks with 
 
 the blade. 
 Leave deep water to others," he spake ; but Menoetes, 
 
 afraid, 
 Sheered to the open, in fear of the shallows, deaf to his 
 
 chief. 
 u Whither away so wildly, Mencetes ? Head for the 
 
 reef ! " 
 Gyas thunders again. For Cloanthus, lo ! is at hand 
 Close on her larboard quarter and holding nearer to land. 
 Edging the shore on the left, in the inner channel 
 
 between 
 Gyas's bark and the loud sea-rocks, his Scylla is seen, 
 Suddenly forges ahead to the front, flies suddenly past, 
 Then rounds swiftly the beacon, and holds safe water at 
 
 last. 
 Eierce grief broke to a flame in the hero's heart ; on his 
 
 cheeks 
 Salt tears rolled; in his anger the tardy Menoetes he 
 
 seeks. 
 All unmindful of honour's voice and the lives of his 
 
 crew, 
 Headlong into the waters the laggard helmsman he 
 
 threw, 
 Strode himself to the rudder, himself assumed the 
 
 command, 
 Cheerily spake to his men, then wrested the helm to the 
 
 strand. 
 Scarcely from under the billows emerging, stricken in 
 
 years, 
 Heavy with dripping raiment, Mencetes slowly appears ; 
 Makes for the dry rock level, and yonder safely he sits. 
 Laughter greeted his fall, and pursued him swimming to 
 
 land; 
 
152 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Laughter follows him still as the salt seawater he spits. 
 Hope at the sight inspirits the hearts of the hindmost 
 
 pair, 
 Ere he recovers, the palm from the lingering G-yas to 
 
 bear. 
 Seizing the vantage water, Sergestus edges the bank, 
 Draws not his Centaur clear of the rival keel on her 
 
 flank; 
 Part of her broadside clears it, a part is prest by the 
 
 prow 
 Still of the jealous Dragom Amidst his mariners now 
 Over his deck strides Mnestheus bold : " Rise all to the 
 
 oar, 
 Brave companions ! " he shouts ; " great Hector's fellows 
 
 of yore, 
 Whom I chose to be mine upon Ilion's funeral night ; 
 Put forth now your spirit, the old inveterate might, 
 Which once nerved ye the sands of the shifting Syrtes to 
 
 brave, 
 Dread Ionia's seas, and the merciless Malean wave. 
 Mnestheus asks no triumph, alas! — no conqueror's 
 
 place. 
 Yea ! let them that are chosen of Neptune win in the 
 
 race! 
 Natheless, deem it reproach to be last. This victory gain, 
 Friends, at the least, and preserve us from shame's 
 
 indelible stain." 
 Every muscle is strained ; they bend to the benches with 
 
 glee, 
 Brass-bound timbers are shaken with huge strokes dealt 
 
 to the sea. 
 Waters recede from beneath them ; the limb and the 
 
 feverish lip 
 Quiver with quick-drawn breath, and the sweat-drops 
 
 over them drip. 
 
 Chance vouchsafed to the gallants the modest fame they 
 
 desire. 
 While in the inner channel Sergestus, all upon fire, 
 Heads for the rock, — as he nears it, for want of an 
 
 ampler sweep, 
 Lo! ill-fated he strikes upon the crags that jut to the 
 
 deep. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 153 
 
 Even the reefs are shaken ; the oars upon splinters of 
 
 rock 
 Catch and crash, and the bows hang helpless and rent 
 
 with the shock. 
 Oarsmen spring from the thwarts, hold fast to the ledge 
 
 with a cry, 
 Busily handle the steel-shod pike, and the boat-hook ply, 
 Then collect from the waters the shattered oars of the 
 
 crew. 
 Mnestheus gaily behind, inspired by his triumph anew, 
 Plies a redoubled stroke and, the breezes now at command, 
 Steers for the shelving seas, sweeps down through the 
 
 open to land. 
 So some dove, from the rock's dark cavern suddenly 
 
 roused, 
 Whose dear home, whose nestlings sweet in its hollows 
 
 are housed, 
 Rushes apace to the fields, and, driven in her terrible 
 
 scare 
 Forth from her cell, beats loudly her sounding pinions in 
 
 air; 
 Reaches unbroken stillness, and floats down silent skies, 
 Sails on her shining journey, and moves no wing as she 
 
 flies. 
 So sped Mnestheus now, and his bark on her voyage held 
 Over the homeward seas, of her own smooth motion 
 
 impelled. 
 
 First in his triumph he passes Sergestus battling amain 
 Still with the rock and the shoals, and for succour 
 
 shouting in vain, 
 Learning feebly to row with his fragments of shattered 
 
 blade. 
 Next for the floating monster, Chimsera, and Gyas he 
 
 made; 
 Place the Chimsera resigns, of her helmsman reft, and at 
 
 last 
 Only Cloanthus remains, as the end draws near, to be 
 
 past. 
 On him he closes, with main might labours, presses the 
 
 race ; 
 Shouts are redoubled, the great crowd cheer as he follows 
 
 in chase — 
 
154 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Heaven with the voices resounds. These glow for 
 
 thought of the shame 
 Should their laurels be stolen, and rivals rob them of 
 
 fame; 
 Even at sweet life's cost for the glory of victory long ; 
 Yonder thrive on success ; their strength is to seem to be 
 
 strong. 
 
 Beak on a level with beak, peradventure both of the 
 
 braves 
 Now had divided the prize, but Cloanthus spreads to the 
 
 waves 
 Both clasped hands, prays loudly, attests all heaven to 
 
 his vow: 
 " Gods, whose royal domain is the sea, whose waters I 
 
 plough, 
 Gladly before your altars a milk-white bull I will lay, 
 Yonder on shore, right gladly a debtor's offerings pay ; 
 Fling to the billows a victim's heart, pour wine from the 
 
 bowl." 
 Lo ! as he spake, he was heard far down in the waves by 
 
 the whole 
 Nereid band, and the Neptune choir, and the ocean maid, 
 Fair Panopea. The sire Portunus graciously laid 
 Hands almighty upon him, and pushed his ship as she 
 
 flew. 
 Swifter than southern gale or a feathered arrow she made 
 Soon to the shore, and was lost in the distant harbour to 
 
 view. 
 
 Summoning all, iEneas by voice of herald proclaims 
 Now his Cloanthus victor of all Troy's fleet in the games ; 
 Crowns with the bay-leaf green his brows ; then gives to 
 
 the crews 
 Largess noble of three steers each, for the winner to 
 
 choose ; 
 Flagons of wine, and of silver a massive talent besides. 
 Special honours apiece for the captains then he provides ; 
 First for the victor a gold-bound scarf, twice round it in 
 
 rows 
 Thick Melibcean purple for border meandering goes. 
 Here inwoven a prince with his hounds and his arrows is 
 
 seen 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 155 
 
 Chasing the fleet-foot deer amid Ida's forests of green ; 
 Eager and breathless seems. There swooping, and talons 
 
 displayed, 
 Jupiter's armour-bearer has borne him aloft from the 
 
 glade. 
 Wildly his aged guards stretch forth vain hands upon 
 
 high; 
 Furious hounds yell vainly with baying throats to the 
 
 sky. 
 Next to the chief who merits the second honour, he told 
 Hauberk woven of polished chain, thrice threaded with 
 
 gold — 
 Spoil that his conquering hands from the slain Demoleos 
 
 tore 
 'Neath high Troy, on the rapidly rolling Simois' shore. 
 Heavy and many its folds ; upon straining shoulders 
 
 to-day 
 Hardly can Sagaris even, or Phegeus, bear it away — 
 Stalwart slaves ; yet of old its lord in his armour-chain 
 Drove Troy's scattering legions in hot flight over the 
 
 plain. 
 Brazen caldrons twain for a third last guerdon he gave ; 
 Bowls from the silver wrought, and engraven with tracery 
 
 brave. 
 
 Now all held their prizes and proud were wending their 
 
 way, 
 Purple ribbons adorning their foreheads bound with the 
 
 bay, 
 When from the wild rock painfully rescued, many an oar 
 Missing, but one tier left his disabled bark, to the shore 
 Home amid jeers Sergestus his way inglorious wrought. 
 As on the crown of the great highway some snake that is 
 
 caught, — 
 Crushed by a wheel as it crosses, or left in torture to lie 
 Mangled and all but slain by the stone of a passer-by, — 
 Seeking idly for shelter, it writhes round slowly, in part 
 Pierce to the last, eyes blazing with fire, throat lifted to 
 
 dart 
 Hiss upon hiss ; — part, lamed with the wound, still keeps 
 
 it in vain 
 Wreathing its spires, and entwining its knotted coils in 
 
 its pain ; — 
 
156 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 So with her oarage crippled, the ship makes slowly her 
 
 way, 
 Nevertheless spreads canvas, and glides full sail to the 
 
 bay. 
 Then for the rescued bark, for the sailors saved from the 
 
 seas, 
 Troy's glad chief to Sergestus the promised guerdon 
 
 decrees ; 
 Gives him Pholoe fair for a slave, in her motherly 
 
 bloom, 
 Cretan of race, twin boys at her bosom, and skilled at the 
 
 loom. 
 
 THE FOOT RACE. 
 
 Ship race o'er, Troy's gracious lord to a meadowy space 
 Leads them, enclosed all round in a darksome forest's 
 
 embrace, 
 Set in the mountains. An oval of green through the 
 
 valley extends, 
 Like some theatre's ring. With his thousands hither he 
 
 wends, 
 Sits on the rude-built throne, then bids by the herald's 
 
 call 
 Those who list to the race, and arrays their prizes for 
 
 all. 
 Trojans hither repair with Sicilians mixed ; in the van, 
 Famed for his beauty, the young Euryalus, budding to 
 
 man; 
 Nisus for noble love that he bare to the beautiful boy. 
 Next them Diores, a prince of the bright blood royal of 
 
 Troy. 
 Patron and Salius follow in rear, an Acarnan the one, 
 One, Tegeaean lineage true, Arcadia's son. 
 Then two youths of Sicanian race, Panopes, and the bold 
 Helymus, foresters both, of Acestes henchmen enrolled. 
 Many besides whose names dim history veils in a cloud. 
 Now ./Eneas on high in the midst of the gathering crowd : 
 " Trojans," he cries, " give ear and attend. This festival 
 
 day 
 None of the number around me shall go ungifted away. 
 Two bright Gnossian arrows of polished steel he shall 
 
 bear ; 
 Each take with him a hatchet of silver chasing to wear. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 157 
 
 All shall be given this guerdon alike ; three winners 
 
 receive 
 Prizes beyond, and of olive pale their garlands inweave. 
 First for the victor a steed, bright trappings on forehead 
 
 and breast ; 
 Next for the second a quiver by Amazon fingers dressed, 
 Filled with Thracian arrows ; a blazing baldric of gold 
 Girds it about, with a gem for a buckle looping its fold. 
 Home with a helmet of Argos shall hie contented the 
 
 third." 
 Places they take ; at the sound of the signal suddenly 
 
 heard 
 Over the racecourse rapidly pour, from the barriers roll 
 Forth as a thunder-shower their keen eyes marking the 
 
 goal. 
 
 First with a flash, ere others can follow, impetuous 
 
 springs 
 Nisus in front, more swift than the wind or the light- 
 ning's wings. 
 Second Salius speeds, at a distance, far in the rear ; 
 Third Euryalus comes, but comes at an interval clear ; 
 Helymus follows ; Diores behind, see ! hard on his trace, 
 Heel upon heel and shoulder to shoulder presses the 
 
 chase. 
 Over a longer reach had the course now finishing ranged, 
 Past he had flown, and a doubtful race to a victory 
 
 changed. 
 Now was the last lap wellnigh gained, spent runners were 
 
 fast 
 Nearing the final goal, when the ill-starred Nisus at last 
 Slid on the blood of the steers at the morning sacrifice 
 
 slain, 
 Where it had drencht in a torrent the green expanse of 
 
 the plain. 
 Lo ! in the hour supreme of his triumph, the youth as he 
 
 trod 
 Kept not his foot on the treacherous soil, but face to the 
 
 sod 
 Fell, in the victims' gore and the ordure meeting with ill ; 
 Yet in his fall he forgot not his loved Euryalus still, 
 Rose, as Salius came, in the midst of the slippery way ; 
 Salius, over him rolled, in the thick sand heavily lay. 
 
158 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 So to the front Euryalus flies, and, thanks to his friend, 
 Victor, amid loud cheers, loud plaudits, reaches the end ; 
 Helymus next him, Diores a third. Now over the great 
 Audience lifted, to where Troy's elders in dignity sate, 
 Rises the loud-tongued clamour of Salius, claiming his 
 
 meed, 
 Robbed of his honours by fraud. For the young Eury- 
 alus plead 
 Chiefly the people's voice, and his boyish tears and 
 
 confest 
 Merit that seems most winning when all in loveliness 
 
 drest. 
 With him Diores sides, of the grievance loud to complain, 
 Who has in vain succeeded, the third prize earned but in 
 
 vain, 
 Should first place in the honours to Salius now be 
 
 restored. 
 Sentence the great iEneas announces: "Each his reward 
 Keeps unchanged ; our order of merit none may displace. 
 Yet may I pity a friend who has fallen untouched by 
 
 disgrace." 
 Then an enormous hide gives Salius, heavy with hair, 
 Loaded with golden claws of an Afric lion, to wear. 
 "If," quoth Nisus, "the vanquisht to gifts so lordly 
 
 attain, 
 If thou pity the fallen on this wise, what will remain 
 Worthy to offer Nisus, who earned with merit the crown, 
 Had not the same chance thrown him that threw thy 
 
 Salius down ? " 
 And as he spake, he discovered his limbs and forehead 
 
 defiled 
 Still with stains of his fall. iEneas graciously smiled, 
 Bade them a buckler bring, Didymaon's cunning design, 
 Trophy by Danaans hung at the portal of Neptune's 
 
 shrine ; 
 With this glittering honour adorns Troy's glorious 
 
 child. 
 
 THE SPARRING CONTEST. 
 
 After the races are ended, the prizes portioned as due : 
 " Breathes there any among ye," proclaims iEneas anew, 
 " Valiant and ready of heart, let him enter yonder the 
 lists, 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 159 
 
 There in the face of his fellows uplift his gauntleted 
 
 wrists." 
 Then as he spake he displayed two prizes reserved for 
 
 the bold: 
 First for the victor a bull, with his horns all ribbons and 
 
 gold; 
 Helmet bright and a sword for the vanquisht, to solace 
 
 defeat. 
 Swiftly the summons is answered. In giant force to his 
 
 feet 
 Leapt great Dares — around him the murmured hum of 
 
 the crowd — 
 Dares accustomed of old to encounter Paris the proud ; 
 Who, at the tomb where Hector illustrious rests with the 
 
 slain, 
 Stretched vast Butes in death on the yellow sand of the 
 
 plain, 
 Son of Bebrycian sires and elate with his champion 
 
 bays. 
 Now once more to the battle the Dares of ancient days 
 Lifts his towering crest, lays broadening shoulders bare, 
 Lunges with arms alternate, and showers his blows on the 
 
 air. 
 Where is another to match him ? From all yon myriad 
 
 bands 
 Who dares challenge him now? Who gloves in defi- 
 ance his hands ? 
 Deeming in bright ambition that all men yield him the 
 
 day, 
 Grasping the horns of the bull impatiently, yonder he 
 
 stands. 
 " Son of a goddess," he thunders, " if none dare join in 
 
 the fray, 
 Am I for ever to wait? How long is it seemly," he 
 
 cries, 
 " Here to detain me ? Command me to go my way with 
 
 the prize." 
 Thundering cheers ring forth from the Trojans ; in com- 
 mon accord 
 All men cry for the brave to be given his promised 
 
 reward. 
 Gravely Acestes turns to rebuke Entellus, who sate 
 Near on a meadow bank : " Entellus, once in thy day 
 
160 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Bravest in vain of the brave, wilt suffer a prize so great 
 Tamely without one blow to be borne by another away ? 
 Where is thine Eryx now, that master and god thy 
 
 tongue 
 Idly proclaims ; thy glory that over Sicily rung ? — 
 All thy trophies hanging around thy halls in array ? " 
 
 " Love of renown and ambition," he answers, " neither is 
 
 fled; 
 Fear has extinguisht neither, but lingering age makes 
 
 dead 
 This chill blood, and my outworn strength grows icy and 
 
 cold. 
 Had I what once was mine, what makes yon blusterer 
 
 bold 
 Vain of his powers, were only my manhood still in its 
 
 youth, 
 Guerdon none were needed, nor bullock goodly in sooth, 
 Hither to draw me. Of gifts I reck but lightly." He 
 
 cast 
 Into the midst, as he spake, two ponderous gauntlets 
 
 vast, 
 Wherewith fiery Eryx was used in the battle to stand, 
 Showering blow upon blow from his mighty and gaunt- 
 
 leted hand. 
 Men stood silent and awed at the seven huge hides of the 
 
 dread 
 Oxen, inbound and stiffened with masses of iron and 
 
 lead. 
 Dares himself is appalled, and declines them, standing 
 
 apart. 
 Even the heroic son of Anchises balances long, 
 Hither and thither turning, the measureless folds of 
 
 thong. 
 Slowly the old man spake with a breath deep drawn 
 
 from his heart : 
 " Ah ! had ye looked on the gauntlets of Hercules, gazed 
 
 on the god 
 Armed, seen yonder on these sad shores that battle of 
 
 blood ! 
 Eryx of old thy brother was harnest thus for the fray ; 
 Still with brains and with gore thou seest they are 
 
 dabbled to-day. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 161 
 
 Gloved in these he confronted the great Alcides ; to 
 
 these 
 I was accustomed in days when a blood less prone to 
 
 repose 
 Succoured still my veins, nor was envious age by degrees 
 Over my forehead sprinkling as yet her whitening snows. 
 Still, if Dares the Trojan mislikes these weapons of mine, 
 Great iEneas desires, my master Acestes approves, 
 I, that the battle be equal, the Eryx gauntlets resign. 
 Thou be afraid no longer, and doff Troy's champion 
 
 gloves." 
 Lightly he flung from his shoulder his folded mantle 
 
 away, 
 Bared his enormous thews, vast bones, huge arms, to 
 
 the day, 
 Then stood forth as a giant, and towered supreme on the 
 
 sands. 
 Gauntlets of even weight Troy's lord brings forth for the 
 
 fray; 
 Cases in equal armour the rival champion hands. 
 
 Each upon tiptoe stood, rose suddenly there to his 
 
 height, 
 Lifting on high with undaunted heart both arms to the 
 
 light, 
 Heads draw loftily back from the reach of the enemy's 
 
 stroke ; 
 Hands in skirmish with hands play quickly, the battle 
 
 provoke. 
 Dares the nimbler-footed, in manhood's confident ease ; 
 Huge Entellus of limb and of weight, — but his tardier 
 
 knees 
 Totter, and troubled breath convulses his towering frame. 
 Wound upon wound unavailing the rival warriors aim, 
 Blows on their hollow flanks rain thickly, the great thuds 
 
 sound 
 Back from the breasts; hands wander, their ears, their 
 
 temples, around. 
 Cheekbones rattle. Astrain, but in posture ever the same, 
 Eirm Entellus stands, and eludes each volley that flies 
 Only with bending body and ever vigilant eyes. 
 Dares, like a commander who storms from his earth-made 
 
 mound 
 
162 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Some tall town, or besieges a mountain fort with his train, 
 Every entrance tries, reconnoitres wisely the ground, 
 Often essays the assault, but essays it ever in vain. 
 Now Entellus his right hand showed as he rose to the 
 
 blow, 
 Showed for a moment, and struck, but his rapid enemy's 
 
 eye 
 Saw it already descending, and, ere it lighted below, 
 Dares darted aside, and it past him harmlessly by. 
 Huge Entellus his strength on the vain wind wasted, and 
 
 prone 
 Earthwards heavily thundered by no man's stroke but his 
 
 own. 
 So upon high Erymanthus, or Ida's mountain incline, 
 Hollow with age, comes crashing, at last uprooted, the 
 
 pine. 
 
 Trojans rise to behold, and the brave Trinacrians rise ; 
 All with conflicting passions fired ; — shouts roll to the 
 
 skies. 
 First on the field of disaster the royal Acestes appears, 
 Lifts from the earth with pity his comrade equal in years. 
 Undismayed, unabated, the hero now to the fight 
 Keener than ever returns ; wild anger rouses his might : 
 Honour inspires him, and sense of a valour yet unrevealed. 
 Furiously Dares he chases in hot flight over the field ; 
 Now with his right hand leads, with his left hand now, 
 
 the attack, 
 Ceaseless, unresting ever. As hailstorms smiting the stack 
 Rattle on turret and roof, so rains Entellus his blow — 
 Plies both hands, drives hither and thither the buffeted 
 
 foe. 
 Further the wise iEneas permits not fury to rage, 
 Leaves not fierce Entellus insatiate battle to wage, 
 Orders a truce forthwith, leads shattered Dares away 
 Far from the battle, and gently consoles him thus by the 
 
 way: 
 " Ill-starred brave ! What madness, alas, thy wit has 
 
 estranged ? 
 Seest thou not thy strength is surpast, Heaven's pleasure 
 
 is changed ? 
 Yield to the Gods." And an end thereon of the duel 
 
 decrees. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 163 
 
 Home to the vessels his faithful friends lead Dares, his 
 
 knees 
 Tottering, and shaken : — his head sways feebly, a crim- 
 soning flood 
 Spurts from his lips in a torrent, and teeth spurt forth 
 
 with the blood. 
 Back to the ships he is led ; his companions, summoned, 
 
 receive 
 Helmet and sword ; to Entellus the bull and the victory 
 
 leave. 
 Now o'erjoyed with his triumph, the victor, proud of his 
 
 prize : 
 "Learn, thou son of the Goddess, and ye, Trojans," he 
 
 cries, 
 " What was the youthful strength of the old Entellus, and 
 
 say 
 From what death ye recover your rescued Dares to-day." 
 Firmly he planted his feet, as he spake, confronting the 
 
 bull 
 "Where as the prize it stood, and, his right hand lifting 
 
 amain, 
 Swinging the stroke and arising, delivered the gauntlet full 
 'Twixt both horns, drove home to the bones, and shattered 
 
 the brain. 
 Thundering down upon earth with a shudder the bull 
 
 drops dead. 
 Loudly the hero shouts : " I remit thee in Dares' stead, 
 Eryx, a nobler victim ; his debt thy warrior pays ; 
 Victor, his art he abandons, and here thy gauntlet he lays." 
 
 THE CONTEST WITH THE BOW. 
 
 Thence iEneas invites all comers to feats of the bow -, 
 Places the prizes in view ; with his own strong hand from 
 
 below 
 Lifts from the ship of Serestus a mast. On its summit 
 
 in air 
 Hangs, as a mark for the archers, a dove made fast in a 
 
 snare. 
 Yonder the concourse gathers. The lots in a helmet are 
 
 flung ; 
 First from the brass amid shouts thy name, Hippocoon, 
 
 sprung ; 
 
164 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Mnestheus second — in race of the vessels victor but 
 
 now — 
 Still with the garland green of an olive bound on his 
 
 brow; 
 Third Eurytion ; brother of thine, bright archer of Troy, 
 Pandarus, chosen of old by a goddess the truce to destroy, 
 First upon Danaan ranks that day thine arrow to cast. 
 Buried deep in the helmet Acestes lay to the last, 
 Beady to vie with the youths, though a veteran. Each 
 
 one strings 
 Cord to the bow, from the quiver himself the artillery 
 
 brings. 
 First from the twanging thong Hippocoon's arrow im- 
 pelled 
 Cleaves as a lash the divided skies, then strikes and is 
 
 held 
 East in the timber; the stricken mast-tree shakes, and 
 
 the bird 
 Flutters with fear : all round them her pinions flapping 
 
 are heard. 
 Next keen Mnestheus placed him, his bowstring drawn 
 
 to the breast, 
 Levelled his eye and his weapon, his keen glance upward 
 
 addrest : 
 Failed in an evil hour to the dove herself to attain, 
 Broke with his shaft but her fetters, the hempen cords of 
 
 the chain, 
 Where by her captive feet from the masthead lofty she 
 
 hung. 
 Into the breezes she flew, to the dark clouds rapidly 
 
 sprung. 
 Now with his bow to the bolt-head drawn and his arrow 
 
 displayed, 
 Swift as a thought to his brother a prayer Eurytion 
 
 prayed ; 
 Eyed her in clear sky sailing, with joy escaping the 
 
 dart, 
 Under a dark cloud flapping her wings — then pierced to 
 
 her heart. 
 Breathless she fell, amid heaven's bright stars left life, 
 
 and restored 
 Home, as she downwards floated, the fatal bolt to its 
 
 lord. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 165 
 
 Only Acestes now was remaining, hope of a prize 
 
 Gone, yet his arrow he still sent forth to the heavenly 
 
 skies, 
 Proudly displaying an old man's art and his resonant 
 
 bow. 
 Sudden a sign was revealed them, as later chronicles 
 
 show, 
 Full of an awful omen ; a great woe pointed the tale ; 
 Prophets of doom long after proclaimed its meaning of 
 
 bale. 
 Lo ! as it rose through cloudlets of glory, the reed took fire, 
 Printing in flames its flight, then, vanishing, seemed to 
 
 expire 
 Lost on the viewless winds, as the stars unfixt from the 
 
 sky 
 Shoot full often across it, and bright hair trails as they 
 
 Awed the Sicilians stood at the sign, and the warriors of 
 
 Tr °y> 
 Praying the Gods immortal ; the great iEneas with joy 
 
 Hails it as omen fair, then folds in a loving embrace 
 
 Happy Acestes, and loads him with gifts excelling in 
 
 grace. 
 " Take them," he cries, " father, for by this marvellous 
 
 sign 
 Heaven's high monarch decrees that especial honours be 
 
 thine. 
 Take what once was bestowed on Anchises aged and 
 
 . gray — 
 This great bowl, all graven with figures, which in his day 
 Thracian Cisseus gave him, a royal gift and a sure, 
 Token and pledge of the love that he bare him, long to 
 
 endure." 
 Then he encircled his brows with the bay-tree green, and 
 
 addrest 
 Royal Acestes as victor beyond all others confest. 
 Naught Eurytion gentle of him who is chosen complains, 
 Though 't was his own good arrow the dove from the skies 
 
 that had cast. 
 Second in order of honour the brave who sundered her 
 
 chains. 
 He who spitted the pole with his feathered reed is the 
 
 last. 
 
166 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 DISPLAY OF THE CAVALIERS. 
 
 Now iEneas the father, or ever the festival ends, 
 Summons Epytides, comrade and guardian true, who 
 
 attends 
 Youthful lulus, and speaks in his faithful ear the com- 
 mand : 
 " Hasten to A scan the prince ; if his boyish cavalry band 
 Ready he hold, with his steeds for the pageant ranged at 
 
 his side, 
 Bid him parade his troop in his grandsire's honour, and 
 
 ride 
 Forth in his armour." Himself the invading throng he 
 
 ordains 
 All to depart from the course, and to clear free space on 
 
 the plains. 
 In Troy's children march, and before their sires in a line 
 Mounted on well-reined horses, a glittering company, 
 
 shine. 
 Murmured applause breaks forth from the allied hosts, as 
 
 they go ; 
 Hair bound down, as the wont is, with leaflets stript from 
 
 the bough. 
 Lances of cornel tipped with steel each carries in rest, 
 Some on the shoulder a quiver smooth. High set on the 
 
 breast 
 Round each throat run twisted a flexible golden chain. 
 Companies three, — three chiefs in command, — prick 
 
 over the plain 
 Twice six glorious children behind each leader arrayed — 
 Equal divisions, a captain for each, — in splendour 
 
 parade. 
 One young squadron is led by a youthful Priam in 
 
 glee, — 
 Named from his grandsire's name, and begotten, Polites, 
 
 of thee, 
 Troy's illustrious son, ere long to be Italy's pride, — 
 Borne on a Thracian courser with white all dappled and 
 
 pied ; 
 White on his pasterns, white on his forehead shines as a 
 
 star. 
 Next rides Atys, from whom our Latin Atians are, 
 Atys, tender of years, and beloved of lulus the boy. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 167 
 
 Last, but before all others in beauty, lulus of Troy, 
 
 Set on a Sidon steed which. Dido lovely of yore 
 
 Gave him as token and pledge of a love to endure ever- 
 more. 
 
 Mounted on Sicily's chargers the rest, and by Sicily's 
 king 
 
 Horsed for the pageant. A cheer from the gathered Teu- 
 crian ring 
 
 Breaks as the shy band enters. The scene with pleasure 
 they view, 
 
 Find in the looks of the children the fathers' faces anew. 
 
 After the joyous riders have made their round of the 
 
 throng 
 Under the eyes of the sires, Troy's herald, standing apart, 
 Shouts the expected signal, and lashes his thundering 
 
 thong. 
 Every company gallops asunder, the three troops part 
 Into retiring halves ; — at a sign each, suddenly, lo ! 
 Wheels to the front, and, with weapons couched, bears 
 
 down on the foe. 
 Now once more they retire — once more with the lance 
 
 they meet — 
 Turn and return their paces — the field to the enemy bar — 
 Circles alternate weave upon circles still incomplete, — 
 "Waking with battle armour the shadowy image of war. 
 Backs now bare in retreat — now point their steel to the 
 
 breast — 
 Now plight truce and together are pacing, lances in rest. 
 Even as the fabled road in the Labyrinth olden of Crete 
 Ban through sunless walls and a thousand paths of deceit, 
 Till all tracks for retracing the journey failed in a maze 
 Whence none came that had entered, for none found clew 
 
 to its ways ; 
 So with inwoven paces the Trojan chivalry bright 
 Bide, and in sportive tangle involve gay battle and flight ; 
 Like some dolphin shoal, that afloat on the watery plain 
 Cleaves Carpathia's billows and distant Libya's main. 
 
 This fair fashion of handling the steed, these trials of 
 
 skill, 
 Ascan revived when he circled with ramparts Alba the 
 
 Long ; 
 
168 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Taught old Latium's father to keep this festival still, 
 As he had kept it himself, and his Trojan chivalry young. 
 Alba her people tutored; from these, imperial Rome 
 Held the tradition, preserving the rites ancestral of home. 
 Troy are the children called ; Troy's squadron the bright 
 
 cavalcade. 
 Thus far funeral games in a father's honour were played. 
 
 THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 
 
 Fortune here grew fickle, to each fair promise untrue. 
 
 While at the tomb they pay him the funeral honours as 
 due, 
 
 Lo ! to the Ilian vessels Saturnian Juno sent 
 
 Forth from the skies bright Iris, and breathed fair winds 
 as she went. 
 
 Deep her mighty designs, and her ancient wrath un- 
 allayed. 
 
 So on a rainbow formed of a thousand colours, the 
 maid, 
 
 Viewless to mortal eyes, ran down heaven's slope in the 
 breeze. 
 
 Over the vast assembly her glances wander ; she sees 
 
 Shores and deserted harbours; the vessels lying un- 
 manned : 
 
 While withdrawn from the rest, Troy's dames on a deso- 
 late strand 
 
 Wept for the lost Anchises, and, as they wept him, the 
 band 
 
 Gazed on the deep great sea. " Still many a water, alas ! 
 
 Many a billowy reach for a toil-worn people to pass ! " 
 
 One cry fills each bosom, on each lip rises the pi^er : 
 
 " for a city ! The toils of the wave are weary to 
 bear ! " 
 
 Straight to the heart of the throng as a spirit of evil she 
 
 flew, 
 Laid her immortal raiment by and her heavenly face, 
 Beroe, aged wife of the Thracian Doryclus, grew, 
 Mother of children once, with a name and a glorious 
 
 race. 
 Thus in the midst of the Trojan dames stood Iris to 
 
 view. 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 169 
 
 " Ah. ! sad sisters," she cries, " why might not a Danaan 
 
 foe 
 Trail us to die beneath. Ilion's walls ? Ah ! people of 
 
 woe, 
 What fierce ruin awaits thee at Fortune's merciless 
 
 hands ? 
 Seven long summers already are closing, since in the war 
 Ilion fell, and we wander, alas ! o'er waters and lands. 
 Wild sea-rocks we encounter, and measure many a star, 
 Seeking on ocean's wastes for an Italy, which as we come 
 Vanishes ever, and always tost on the tumbling foam. 
 Here are the brotherly kingdoms of Eryx, Acestes' halls ; 
 May we not here plant homes, give here to a nation her 
 
 walls ? 
 Land of my fathers ! Penates from foemen rescued in 
 
 vain! 
 Shall Troy call by her name no citadel ever again ? 
 May it not ever be mine on a Hector's rivers to look, 
 Gaze on another Xanthus, another Simois brook ? 
 Come, let us harry with fire the accursed ships. As I 
 
 dreamed, 
 Lo! in a vision the shade of the seer Cassandra, 
 
 meseemed, 
 Gave me the lighted torches : l The Troy ye are seeking 
 
 is here; 
 Here/ she exclaimed, i your home.' ? T is the hour 
 
 already to strike. 
 Portents of heaven brook little delay. Four altars are 
 
 near 
 Kindled to Neptune. Torches and will God gives us 
 
 alike." 
 Leading the way as she spake, she uplifted a terrible 
 
 brand, 
 Swung it around and above her, with main might heaving 
 
 her hand, 
 Wheeled it in flames and flung it. The hearts of the 
 
 women of Troy 
 Throbbed as they saw, spell-bound they stand with a 
 
 furious joy. 
 One theron of the number, a soul well stricken in years, 
 Pyrgo, nurse of the children of Priam, cries to her peers: 
 " Mothers of Troy ! no Beroe this, no consort of thine — 
 Doryclus — here ; mark well yon tokens of beauty divine: 
 
170 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Note those burning glances; the breath that around her 
 
 is shed ; 
 Heavenly look, and immortal tones, and a goddess's tread. 
 'T is but an hour since yonder I left, myself, as I came, 
 Beroe sick and repining, because, disconsolate dame, 
 She of her sisters alone must lay no gift on the grave, 
 Naught to Anchises bring of the honours due to the 
 
 brave." 
 
 Doubtful at first Troy's matrons. With evil eyes they 
 
 survey 
 Ilion's ships, each wavering spirit balanced between 
 Craven desire of the land, and a realm that calls them 
 
 away; 
 When, on her pinions soaring, celestial Iris was seen 
 Cleaving in rainbow-light an enormous arc to the clouds. 
 Scared by the portent now, in bewildered frenzy, the 
 
 crowds 
 Shout in accord ; pluck faggot and fixetorch forth from 
 
 the fire ; 
 Strip each altar, and fling boughs, branches, and brands, 
 
 from the shrine, 
 Piled in disorder. The God of the flames gives reins to 
 
 his ire ; 
 Riots on bench, and on oar, and on rosined timbers of 
 
 pine. 
 
 Swift to the funeral tomb, and the people ranged for the 
 
 show, 
 News of the fleet upon fire Eumelus carries, and, lo ! 
 Yonder behind them the cinders in dark clouds floating 
 
 they see. 
 Forth Ascanius bounds to the front ; as he lately in glee 
 Led his battalion, so to the camp in danger his horse 
 Hotly he spurs, and his panting guards check vainly his 
 
 course. 
 " What strange madness," he thunders, " and what wild 
 
 thing do ye seek, 
 Ill-starred dames ? No enemy this, no tents of the Greek 
 These that ye burn. Your own bright hopes in the fire 
 
 ye destroy. 
 Lo, it is I, 't is the Ascan ye know ! " And his helmet 
 
 the boy 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 171 
 
 Flung dislodged from his temples before their feet as he 
 
 spake — 
 Helmet employed so lately in sport, war's image to wake. 
 Soon iEneas in haste draws near with the Teucrian host. 
 Troy's dames, hither and thither in panic over the coast 
 Scattering, steal to the forests and deep cave hollows 
 
 away; 
 Loathing the deed that is done, and abhorring the light 
 
 of the day. 
 Sobered they know their friends, and the Juno madness 
 
 is spent. 
 Not that unvanquished flames so soon their fury relent, — 
 Under the wetted timbers the tow still smoulders and 
 
 glows, 
 Vomiting thick pent smoke ; heat, gathering strength as 
 
 it goes, 
 Feeds on the keels; fierce fire spreads downward and 
 
 ranges below; 
 Neither can stalwart hero, nor waters, master the foe. 
 
 Then from his shoulders his raiment the chieftain rend- 
 ing in prayer 
 Calls on the Gods for succour ; uplifts clasped hands to 
 
 the air : 
 " Jove Almighty ! if yet one Trojan remain of the race 
 Whom thine hatred assails not, if still thy pitying face 
 Looks upon human sorrows, preserve our vessels from 
 
 fire; 
 Save Troy's feeble nation from perishing, Heavenly Sire ! 
 Else, if death we deserve, with thine awful thunders to 
 
 death 
 Hurl this remnant weak, and thyself o'erwhelm us, " he 
 
 saith. 
 Scarce has the prayer been breathed, when a tempest 
 
 dark as the night 
 Breaks in a streaming shower. Earth trembles on plain 
 
 and on height, 
 Shaken with thunder. From uttermost heaven fall 
 
 rivers of rain, 
 Murky, and black with storms from the southward 
 
 sweeping in train. 
 Every vessel is drowned in the downpour; timbers in 
 
 part 
 
172 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Charred and consumed by the fire at length are soaked 
 
 to the heart. 
 Soon all fiery vapour is quencht, and the vessels of 
 
 Troy — 
 Four of the number missing — are saved from flames 
 
 that destroy. 
 
 THE DEATH OF PALIXURUS. 
 
 Over the heart of the gentle chief joy banishing fear 
 
 Steals in its turn ; and swiftly he bids his mariners rear 
 
 Every mast, stretch every sail on the sail-yards wide. 
 
 All, in accord and together, the ropes make fast to the 
 side; 
 
 Now on the right hand, now on the left, they loosen the 
 sheet, 
 
 Vary the points of the sail. Fair winds waft onward 
 the fleet. 
 
 Foremost rides Palinurus ; in front of the squadron he 
 speeds ; 
 
 Others behind him are bidden to steer their course as he 
 leads. 
 
 Near to the slope of the furthest heavens, night dank 
 with the dew 
 
 Reached already, in peaceful slumber the limbs of the 
 crew 
 
 Gently reposed, each laid on the rude oak bench by his 
 oar; 
 
 When Sleep, lightly descending from heaven's star-glis- 
 tening floor, 
 
 Parted the darksome air, and dispelled night's shadows, 
 in quest, 
 
 Brave Palinurus, of thee. Dire dreams for thine inno- 
 cent breast 
 
 Bore the immortal god, as he sate on the poop of the ship, 
 
 Phorbas in outward shape, these words on his heavenly 
 lip: 
 
 " Iasus-born Palinurus, the sea takes onward the fleet ; 
 Airs breathe evenly ; lo ! 't is an hour when slumber were 
 
 sweet. 
 Pest those brows, let wearied eyes play truant to toil ; 
 I for a little will ply thy task and be pilot awhile." 
 
THE FUNERAL GAMES FOR ANCHISES. 173 
 
 Hardly uplifting his glance, Palinurus answered and 
 
 spake 
 " Is it the old Palinurus thy lips bid thus to mistake 
 Look of a tranquil water, of billows seeming to sleep ? 
 Me, Palinurus, to rest on the faith of the monster deep ? 
 What, trust Troy's ^Eneas to breezes treacherous, I, 
 Duped so oft by the treason of clear and unclouded sky ? " 
 
 Even as he spake, to the tiller he still clung closely, his 
 
 hand 
 Never relaxing, the stars with his eye still steadily 
 
 scanned. 
 Lo ! the immortal god waves over his temples a spray 
 Steeped in a Stygian charm and in Lethe's dews by the 
 
 way, 
 Closes, despite his endeavours, the mariner's swimming 
 
 eyes. 
 Soon as his limbs were slackening in slumber's early 
 
 surprise 
 Stooping, he hurled him below to the shining seas, in his 
 
 fall 
 Trailing shattered planks from the stern and the rudder 
 
 withal, 
 Headlong driven, and invoking his comrades vainly and oft. 
 Then to the viewless breezes the god sailed lightly aloft. 
 
 Not less safely and swiftly the fleet rides over the wave, 
 Travels bold and secure in the promise that Neptune 
 
 gave. 
 Nearly at last to the cliffs of the Sirens now it was blown, 
 Dangerous once, still whitened with many a mariner's 
 
 bone. 
 Hollow with thunder of surge everlasting the great rocks 
 
 sound. 
 Then, perceiving the roll of his vessel, her helmsman 
 
 drowned, 
 Troy's chief helmed her himself through the midnight 
 
 waves and the gloom, 
 Groaning aloud, sore stricken with grief for his follower's 
 
 doom, 
 " Ah ! too readily trusting to calm of waters and sky, 
 Thine upon sands unknown, Palinurus, naked to lie ! " 
 — Translation of Baron Bowen. 
 
174 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 
 "-Eneid," VI. 
 
 Speaking these words with tears, and giving free rein 
 
 to his vessels, 
 Safely he glides at last to the shore of Chalcidian Cumse. 
 Seaward they turn their prows; the stubborn tooth of 
 
 the anchor 
 Firmly secures the ships ; curved sterns are fringing the 
 
 shore-line. 
 Then the young men in troops leap eagerly down from 
 
 the galleys 
 On the Hesperian strand. Some search out the sparks 
 
 that lie hidden 
 Deeply in veins of flint; some plunge into forest and 
 
 jungle 
 Haunted by beasts of prey, and bring tidings of rivers 
 
 discovered. 
 Faithful iEneas, however, ascends to the heights where 
 
 Apollo 
 Dwells, and adventures the gloom of the dread unap- 
 proachable Sibyl, 
 Even the awful abode of her whom the Delian prophet 
 Fills with his own great soul, and the gift of inspired 
 
 divination. 
 Now they draw nigh to the groves and golden halls of 
 
 Diana. 
 Daedalus, fleeing the kingdom of Minos, — so runs the 
 
 tradition, — 
 Trusting himself on swift and adventurous wings to the 
 
 heavens,. 
 Flew through the trackless sky toward the glimmer of 
 
 frosty Arcturus, 
 Never arresting his flight till he gained the Chalcidian 
 
 mountain. 
 Here, first restored to the earth, his feathery oarage, 
 
 Phoebus, 
 Unto thyself he vowed, and built thee a marvellous 
 
 temple ; 
 Carved on its gate is the death of Androgeos ; then, with 
 
 what pathos, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 175 
 
 Stand the Athenians, doomed to surrender in yearly- 
 atonement 
 Maidens and youths, twice seven; behold the dread urn 
 
 standing empty ! 
 Darkly companioning this, looms the island of Crete from 
 
 the ocean. 
 Here is the mad and incestuous passion of Pasiphse 
 
 pictured, 
 Here its unnatural fruit, that monster half brute and half 
 
 human ; 
 Darkly the Minotaur stands monumental of nameless 
 
 dishonour. 
 Here, too, that marvellous maze with its hopelessly 
 
 intricate windings ; 
 Hopelessly ? Nay, for the king hath pitied his love- 
 stricken daughter, 
 And hath himself resolved the bewildering plan of the 
 
 palace, 
 Guiding her lover's return by a thread; thou, Icarus, 
 
 also, 
 Largely hadst shared in a work so grand, had sorrow 
 
 permitted. 
 Twice he essayed in gold to picture thy cruel misfortune ; 
 Twice fell the father's hand. And thus they might long 
 
 have continued 
 Scanning each scene in turn; but, lo! their herald, 
 
 Acestes, 
 Timely appeared, with Deiphobe, daughter of Glaucus, 
 
 and priestess 
 Both of Diana and Phoebus, who spake these words to 
 
 iEneas : 
 " Not such sights as these the present hour is demanding ! 
 Now from the virgin herd to slaughter seven bullocks 
 
 were better, 
 Also as many lambs, selected according to custom." 
 Thus she addressed the king, — nor delayed was the 
 
 sacrifice ordered. 
 Then to her lofty abode the prophetess summons the 
 
 Trojans. 
 Vast is the cavern hewn in the side of the mountain of 
 
 Cumae. 
 Pathways an hundred are there, wide arching, and portals 
 
 an hundred, 
 
176 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Whence, through an hundred mouths, the Sibyl's re- 
 sponses are uttered. 
 Them, at the threshold, the virgin arrests : " To question 
 
 the future, 
 Now is the time. The god ! behold the god ! " and, thus 
 
 crying, 
 Suddenly faces the gate, herself nor in feature nor colour ; 
 Kempt are her tresses no more ; she is gasping, her bosom 
 
 is heaving ; 
 Swells with a frenzy her passionate soul, and tow'ring 
 
 above them, 
 And with no mortal voice, for the god is now breathing 
 
 upon her 
 Nearer and still more near ; " Dost halt in thy vows and 
 
 petitions, 
 Trojan iEneas," she cries ; "Art silent ? Then never the 
 
 mighty 
 Mouths of this awful shrine shall open; " and, thus having 
 
 spoken, 
 Ceased, and an icy chill unnerved the strong limbs of the 
 
 Trojans, 
 While from his inmost heart their king poured forth his 
 
 petitions : 
 "Phoebus, compassionate ever of Troy's overwhelming 
 
 disasters ; 
 Thou who didst guide the hand and Dardanian arrow of 
 
 Paris 
 'Gainst Achilles' frame, my pilot o'er many dark billows, 
 Breaking on boundless shores; my guide to Massylian 
 
 peoples, 
 Par remote; and to lands far fringed by the Libyan 
 
 Syrtes, 
 Now that at last we are come to fugitive Italy's sea- 
 coast, 
 Let it suffice that the Fates of Troy thus far have pur- 
 sued us. 
 Ye, too, well may be reconciled now to the Purgamene 
 
 nation, 
 Gods and goddesses all, whom Ilium e'er hath offended, 
 Or the great Dardan name. And thou, priestess most 
 
 holy, 
 Thou that foreknowest the future, grant (and I ask for 
 
 no kingdom 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 177 
 
 Promised me not by fate) that Latium harbour the Trojans, 
 Sheltered their wandering gods and Teucria's troubled 
 
 Penates ; 
 Trivia, then, to thee and to Phoebus a temple of massive 
 Marble will I erect, and games shall be named for Apollo ; 
 Thee, too, Sibyl benign, great shrines await in our king- 
 dom; 
 For I will treasure thy oracles there, and the mystic 
 
 arcana 
 Unto our race revealed ; and chosen men to thy service 
 I will ordain. But, oh, write not upon leaves thy re- 
 sponses, 
 Lest, at the sport of the wind, they fly disturbed from 
 
 their order ; 
 Sing them thyself, I pray." Then, closing his lips, he is 
 
 silent. 
 Not submissive, however, as yet to Apollo, the fearful 
 Prophetess raves in the cavern, and still the great god 
 
 from her bosom 
 Hopes to be able to drive; her frenzied lips the more 
 
 sternly 
 Ruling, Apollo curbs and masters her furious spirit. 
 Now, of their own accord, the ponderous doors of the 
 
 temple 
 Open their hundred mouths, and utter the word of the 
 
 Sibyl. 
 " Hail to thee, finally done with the sea and its manifold 
 
 perils ! 
 Graver, however, of land remain. The Dardans shall 
 
 enter 
 Into Lavinian realms; dismiss this care from thy bosom, — 
 But they shall likewise repent of their coming, for battles, 
 
 grim battles 
 Now I behold, and the Tiber all foaming with blood and 
 
 with carnage ! 
 Neither shall Simois fail thee, nor Xanthus, nor Doric 
 
 encampments ; 
 Cradled already in Latium rises a second Achilles ; 
 Goddess-born, too, is he ; nor e'er will implacable Juno 
 Far from the Teucrians be ; while thou, as a suppliant 
 
 beggar, 
 Where shalt thou wander not, among Italy's nations or 
 
 cities ? 
 
178 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Sorely the Trojans shall suffer again from a foreign alli- 
 ance, 
 And from an alien bride. 
 Yield not thou to misfortunes, but go the more bravely 
 
 to meet them, 
 Up to the limit thy Fates permit. The first way of safety, 
 What will surprise thee most, from a town of the Grecians 
 
 will open." 
 Thus from her hidden shrine the Sibyl of Cumse replying, 
 Chanted her fearful enigmas, and thundered them forth 
 
 from her cavern, 
 Darkly involving the truth ; such force, while she rages, 
 
 Apollo 
 Uses to urge her on, and goads her wild spirit to frenzy. 
 Soon as her raving subsides, and her furious lips become 
 
 silent, 
 Answers ^Eneas the hero : " maiden, not one of my trials 
 Rises before my view as a startling or strange apparition ; 
 I have already imagined them all, and endured them in 
 
 spirit ; 
 Only since here, we are told, are the gates of the monarch 
 
 infernal, 
 Also the murky pool of the fountain of Acheron, be it 
 Mine to look once more on the face of my father beloved ; 
 Show me the path to take, throw wide the terrible portals ! 
 Him on my shoulders I hurried through flames and a 
 
 thousand pursuing 
 Weapons, and bore him away unharmed from the midst 
 
 of his foemen. 
 Long he companioned my way ; he shared all the perils 
 
 of ocean; 
 Patiently suffered with me all the threats of the sea and 
 
 the heavens, 
 Weak as he was, and beyond an old man's lot or endur- 
 ance. 
 Nay, it was he who implored and enjoined me to go to 
 
 thy threshold 
 Seeking thy favour. I humbly entreat thee, kind maiden, 
 
 to pity 
 Father and son, for power unbounded is thine, and not 
 
 vainly 
 Hecate set thee here to govern the groves of Avernus. 
 If, upon tuneful lyre and Thracian cithern relying, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 179 
 
 Orpheus was able to charm Eurydice's spirit from Hades, 
 
 If, by dying alternately, Pollux, redeeming his brother, 
 
 Trod and retrod the path so often, why call to remem- 
 brance 
 
 Theseus or Hercules mighty ? I, too, have a birthright 
 in Heaven." 
 
 While he was praying thus, and holding the horns of the 
 altar, 
 
 Thus did the Sibyl begin her reply : " O child of Immor- 
 tals, 
 
 Trojan son of Anchises, descent to Avernus is easy ; 
 
 Both by night and by day the gates of grim Pluto stand 
 open; 
 
 But to retrace the step, to get back to the air and the 
 sunlight, 
 
 This is labour and toil. A few have been able to do it, 
 
 Heirs of the gods, whom Jove hath graciously loved, or a 
 quenchless 
 
 Valour restored to earth. The space intervening vast 
 forests 
 
 Guard, and Cocytus surrounds with sunless and wander- 
 ing waters. 
 
 Yet, if so deep the desire of thy heart, if so urgent thy 
 longing 
 
 Twice on the Stygian wave to embark, if twice upon 
 gloomy 
 
 Tartarus thou wouldst gaze, if this labour of madness 
 delight thee, 
 
 Hear what must first be done. There 7 s a tree in the 
 heart of a forest, 
 
 Hiding within its gloom a branch all golden in leafage, 
 
 Golden in stem, and held to be sacred to Stygian Juno. 
 
 This the whole wood surrounds, and buries in valleys of 
 shadow. 
 
 Yet, before any have leave to descend to the earth's dark 
 abysses, 
 
 First he must ravish away from the tree her golden- 
 haired children ; 
 
 This for her own delight hath fair Proserpina ordered 
 
 Brought to herself. The first no sooner is plucked, than 
 a second 
 
 Branch of like metal appears, as golden of leaf as the 
 other. 
 
180 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Search for it, therefore, with eyes uplifted, and when 
 
 thou hast found it, 
 Grasp it with reverent hand, for thee will it willingly 
 
 follow, 
 Needing no force, if the fates are calling thee ; otherwise 
 
 never 
 Shalt thou by strength or by toughness of iron be able to 
 
 move it. 
 More than all this, the corse of a comrade of thine lieth 
 
 lifeless, — 
 Thou, alas, knowing it not! — and pollutes the whole 
 
 fleet by its presence, 
 While thou art questioning fate, and lingering here at 
 
 our threshold. 
 Him, to his place of rest, first bear, and bury the body ; 
 Lead black sheep to the altar ; let this be thy first expia- 
 tion; 
 So shalt thou look, at last, on the Stygian groves, and the 
 
 kingdom 
 Trackless to living feet." She spake, closed her lips, and 
 
 was silent. . . . 
 
 THE DESCENT TO AVERNUS. 
 
 There was a bottomless pit, wide yawning with frightful 
 
 abysses, 
 Jagged, and guarded by darkening waves and shadowy 
 
 forests, 
 Over which none of the birds that fly had ever been 
 
 able 
 Safely to wing their way, so deadly and dense exhalations 
 Rose from its murky throat to the lofty dome of the 
 
 heavens ; 
 Wherefore this dismal lake had been named by the Gre- 
 cians, Avernus. 
 Here hath the priestess at first ranged four black bullocks 
 
 in order, 
 Then on the brow of each a libation of wine is outpouring, 
 And from between the horns, the hairs that are uppermost 
 
 plucking, 
 These on the sacred fire she lays as the first expiation, 
 Hecate loudly invoking, who rules both in Hell and in 
 
 Heaven. 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 181 
 
 Others draw knife to the throat, and catch the hot blood 
 in their goblets ; 
 
 While iEneas himself a black-fleeced lamb with his sword- 
 blade, 
 
 Unto the Mother of Furies and unto her powerful sister 
 
 Slays, and a barren cow, to thee, O Proserpina, offers. 
 
 Then to the Stygian king he consecrates altars at mid- 
 night, 
 
 Laying upon the flames the inward parts of the bullocks, 
 
 Firm and unbroken, and pouring rich oil on the hot blaz- 
 ing vitals. 
 
 But, as the first faint flush of morning foretokened the 
 sunrise, 
 
 Bumbled the earth beneath, and a waving began in the 
 topmost 
 
 Boughs of the forest, and hounds bayed loud in the dark- 
 ness to herald 
 
 Hecate's advent. " Avaunt ! Avaunt, ye profane," cried 
 the Sibyl; 
 
 " Far be your feet withdrawn ; depart one and all from 
 the forest ! 
 
 But, do thou dare the way, thy sword pluck forth from 
 the scabbard ; 
 
 Now hadst thou needs be bold, now steadfast of heart, 
 iEneas ! " 
 
 Speaking no more, she hath flung herself frenziedly into 
 the cavern. 
 
 He, with resolute step, keeps pace with the stride of his 
 escort. 
 Gods, whose dominion is over the dead ! and ye, voice- 
 less shadows! 
 
 Chaos, and Phlegethon, too, ye realms far silent in dark- 
 ness, 
 
 Sanction me now to reveal the things I have heard ; let 
 me open 
 
 Mysteries hid in the depths of the earth beneath her dark 
 vapour. 
 Under the shield of the silent night they went through 
 the shadow, 
 
 Through the unpeopled abodes of Dis, and his ghostly 
 dominions, 
 
 As by the treacherous light of the faithless moon, in a 
 forest, 
 
182 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Travellers pass when Jove hath buried the heavens in 
 
 shadow, 
 And dark night hath stolen the colour from every object. 
 Hard by the mouth of Hell, where yawn the wide portals 
 
 infernal, 
 Grief and avenging Care have fixed their slumberless 
 
 couches ; 
 Here wan Sickness dwells, with wretched Age for a 
 
 neighbour, 
 Sordid Penury, too, and Pear, and desperate Famine ; 
 Shapes that affright the eye ; and Death and Labour and 
 
 Slumber, 
 Dull twin brother to Death, and the guilty Joys of the 
 
 spirit. 
 Near to the opposite portal, lo! death-dealing War is 
 
 abiding ; 
 There are the iron cells of the Furies, and Discord, in 
 
 frenzy 
 Binding together her viperous tresses with blood-crim- 
 soned fillets. 
 Midway, a gloomy elm vast boughs and centuried branches 
 Giant-like stretches abroad, and there false dreams have 
 
 their dwelling, — 
 So it is said, — and beneath all the leaves they are swarm- 
 ing and clinging. 
 There are the phantoms besides of a myriad monsters 
 
 prodigious ; 
 Centaurs are stalled in the entrance, with Scylla, half 
 
 beast and half human, 
 Hundred-handed Briareus, too, and the Dragon of Lerna, 
 Horribly hissing ; and, armed with breathings of flame, 
 
 the Chimsera; 
 Gorgons, and Harpies dire, and Geryon's three-headed 
 
 spectre. 
 Then, in sudden alarm, iEneas, unsheathing his dagger, 
 Flashes the naked blade in defiance of all who approach 
 
 him; 
 And did his wiser guide not warn him that light, unsub- 
 stantial 
 Beings are flitting about in the shadowy semblance of 
 
 bodies, 
 He would rush on, and in- vain with steel strike shadows 
 
 asunder. 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 183 
 
 THE RIVER OF ACHERON. 
 
 Hence is the way that leads to Tartarean Acheron's 
 billows ; 
 
 Here, aroil with slime, and with vortex vast, is a whirl- 
 pool, 
 
 Seething, and all its mud disgorging into Cocytus. 
 
 Guarding these waters and floods is a boatman, beheld 
 with a shudder, 
 
 Charon, of terrible filth, whose great gray beard all 
 neglected 
 
 Flows from his chin; his eyes outstanding like fiery 
 torches, 
 
 Dingy the mantle and foul that hangs in a knot from his 
 shoulders. 
 
 Poling his barge himself, he handles the sails unassisted, 
 
 While in his dusky skiff: he ferries the dead o'er the 
 river ; 
 
 Old, even now, but a god's old age is ruddy and rugged. 
 
 Hither a straggling crowd were all rushing down to the 
 margin, — 
 
 Matrons and men, and the souls, discharged from life's 
 duty, of heroes 
 
 Valiant of heart, and of boys, and unmarried girls, and 
 of children 
 
 Laid on funeral pyres before the sad eyes of their parents, 
 
 Many as are the leaves that fall at the first cold of autumn 
 
 Far in the forest, or thick as the birds that from Ocean's 
 deep waters 
 
 Gather in flight to land when icy Winter pursues them 
 
 Over the billows, and urges them on to a sunnier climate. 
 
 Standing there, then, they begged to be first in making 
 the crossing ; 
 
 Stretching out their hands to the further shore in en- 
 treaty ; 
 
 But the inflexible ferryman, choosing now one, now an- 
 other, 
 
 Drives the others away far back from the banks of the 
 river. 
 
 Moved and amazed by the tumult, iEneas cries, " Tell 
 me, O maiden, 
 
 What is the will of this multitude thronging the bank of 
 the river ? 
 
184 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 What do these souls desire ? Or say with what discrimi- 
 nation 
 These retire from the shore, while those are swept o'er 
 
 the dark waters ? " 
 Briefly the prophetess old replied to the question as 
 
 follows : — 
 " Son of Anchises, assuredly sprung from the gods, thou 
 
 art looking 
 Down on the Stygian lake, and the slumbering depths of 
 
 Cocytus, 
 Taking an oath in whose name e'en the gods are afraid 
 
 to be faithless. 
 All this throng thou beholdest are poor and unfuneralled 
 
 people ; 
 Yonder old ferryman, Charon ; those crossing the river, 
 
 the buried ; 
 None may he bear across these dreadful shores and 
 
 hoarse waters, 
 Till in their quiet graves their bodies are peacefully 
 
 sleeping, 
 Near to these banks for an hundred years they wander 
 
 and hover, 
 Then are permitted once more to return to the coveted 
 
 waters." 
 
 THE CROSSING OF THE STYX 
 
 So they continue their journey begun, and draw nigh to 
 
 the river. 
 Now as the Stygian ferryman looked from the wave, and 
 
 perceived them 
 Threading the silent wood, and shoreward bending their 
 
 footsteps, 
 Straightway attacking with words, he angrily challenged 
 
 their coming : — 
 " Thou, whoever thou art, who bravest our stream with 
 
 thy weapons, 
 Speak ! Why comest thou ? Halt ! Reply, but advance 
 
 at thy peril. 
 This is the region of shades, of sleep, and of slumberous 
 
 midnight. 
 Living bodies to bear in our Stygian craft is forbidden. 
 When I received on the lake Alcides himself at his. 
 
 coming, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 185 
 
 It was no joy to me; nor Pirithous pleased me, nor 
 Theseus, 
 
 Though they were sprung from the gods and were also by 
 mortals unvanquished. 
 
 That one seized with his hands the warder of Hell, and 
 he dragged him 
 
 Forth from the very throne of the King, enchained and 
 affrighted ; 
 
 These attempted to force the Queen from the chamber of 
 Pluto." 
 
 Briefly to him replied the Amphrysian Sibyl as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 "No such insidious plots are here — thy fear is un- 
 grounded ; 
 
 Nor do our arms bring force. Lo, still in his den your 
 gigantic 
 
 Warder may bark his fill, and frighten pale shadows for- 
 ever ; 
 
 Still by her uncle's door may chaste Proserpina linger. 
 
 Trojan iEneas, renowned alike for his faith and his valour, 
 
 Through the profoundest shades of Erebus goes to his 
 father. 
 
 If thou art not constrained by so noble a proof of devo- 
 tion, 
 
 Yet this branch " — and she showed him the branch that 
 lay hid in her bosom — 
 
 "Thou mayest know." His heart then sinks from its 
 tumult of passion ; 
 
 Speaking no more, and awed by the mystical gift of the 
 fateful 
 
 Branch not seen before for many a year, the dull coloured 
 
 Vessel he turned about, and pushed in close into the 
 margin. 
 
 Then, the unbodied shades, that on the long benches were 
 huddled, 
 
 Eouting, he cleared the boat, at the same time into its 
 hollow 
 
 Taking unwieldy iEneas, beneath whose weight the 
 stitched shallop 
 
 Groaned, and its leaky sides drank deep of the trickling 
 water. 
 
 Over the stream at last, unharmed, both Sibyl and hero 
 
 Beep in a dismal swamp, mid sea-green sedges he landed. 
 
186 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 THE REALMS OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Cerberus, stretching his monstrous bulk in an opposite 
 cavern, 
 
 Makes these regions resound with the noise of his three- 
 throated howling. 
 
 Now, as she sees his neck upbristling with serpents, the 
 seeress 
 
 Flings him a sop imbrued with honey and somnolent 
 juices. 
 
 He, with hunger mad, his three throats widely distend- 
 ing,. 
 
 Catches it ere it falls, and, relaxing his powerful haunches, 
 
 Prone on the earth lies huge along the whole length of 
 the cavern. 
 
 Seizing the pass, while its keeper is buried in slumber, 
 iEneas 
 
 Swiftly withdraws from the brink of the river none ever 
 recrosses. 
 
 Presently cries are heard, and the sound of a great lam- 
 entation, 
 
 And, at the outer gate, the wailing spirits of children, 
 
 Babes unsharing in life's delight, and torn from the 
 bosom, 
 
 Whom a dark day bore away, and plunged into Death's 
 bitter waters. 
 
 Next abide those condemned to death upon false accusa- 
 tion; 
 
 Nor are these places assigned without formal allotment 
 of judges ; 
 
 Minos, presiding, impanels a jury, assembling a silent 
 
 Council of ghosts, and investigates fully their lives and 
 transgressions. 
 
 Stations next these are reserved for the sorrowing spirits, 
 who guiltless, 
 
 By their own hands found death, and hurled their souls 
 into darkness, 
 
 Loathing the light. But, ah ! how willingly now would 
 they suffer 
 
 Hunger and bitter toil, if restored to the land of the 
 living ! 
 
 Heaven forbids, and the. mournful ooze of desolate 
 marshes 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 137 
 
 Holds, and the Styx restrains, nine times enfolded around 
 
 them. 
 Near by, also, are shown the Plains of Lamentation, — 
 Such is the name they bear, — extending far over the 
 
 valley. 
 Here lone pathways hide, and groves of myrtle o'er- 
 
 shadow 
 Those whom pitiless love hath wasted with cruel repin- 
 ing; 
 Not in death itself are they freed from the thraldom of 
 
 passion. 
 Phaedra and Procris he saw, and there he saw sad Ery- 
 
 phyle, 
 Showing the wounds received from her cruel son ; and 
 
 Evadne, 
 Pasiphae, also; with whom Laodamia went as com- 
 panion ; 
 Caeneus, too, now changed once more from a man to a 
 
 maiden, 
 Dowered again by fate with the vanished grace of her 
 
 girlhood ; 
 Compassed about by whom, her bosom still bleeding, 
 
 Phoenician 
 Dido came wandering on in the boundless wood, and the 
 
 Trojan 
 Hero, soon as he stood by her side and distinguished her 
 
 shadowed 
 Eorm, as one who sees, or thinks he hath seen, in the 
 
 early 
 Dawn of the month, amid clouds, a glimmer of silvery 
 
 moonlight, 
 Burst into tears, and spoke with tenderest words of 
 
 affection : 
 " Then were the tidings true that reached me, unfortunate 
 
 Dido? 
 ' Dido is dead ; by the sword she hath ended her life and 
 
 her trouble.' 
 Ah, and have I been the cause of thy death ? I swear 
 
 by the heavens, 
 By the great gods above, by whatsoe'er oath Hell regard- 
 
 eth, 
 Not of mine own desire, Queen, did I loose from thy 
 
 harbour ; 
 
188 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 But the commands of the gods, that are driving me now 
 
 through these shadows, 
 Through this wilderness tangle of thorn and midnight 
 
 darkness, 
 By their own power constrained ; nor could I at all have 
 
 imagined 
 That I should bring thee by going so grievous a burden 
 
 of sorrow. 
 Stay thine impatient feet ! withdraw thyself not from 
 
 our presence. 
 Whom dost thou flee ? These words are the last fate 
 
 grants us forever." 
 Thus did iEneas endeavour to soothe her implacable spirit, 
 And bring tears to the eyes where fierce indignation was 
 
 burning. 
 She, with averted face, remained looking fixedly down- 
 ward, 
 Changed in expression no more, as iEneas began to en- 
 treat her, 
 Than if hard flint she stood, or a rock on the mount of 
 
 Marpessa. 
 Finally, breaking away, unrelenting, she hurries for refuge 
 Into the shadowy grove, and there her first lover, Sy- 
 
 chseus, 
 Comforts her every care, and answers her heart's deepest 
 
 longing. 
 Nevertheless, dismayed by her undeserved anguish, 
 
 iEneas 
 Follows her far on her way with tears of compassion and 
 
 sorrow. 
 
 THE HEROES OF TROY. 
 
 Thence his allotted way he toils; and now they are 
 
 gaining 
 Those most distant fields reserved for illustrious heroes. 
 Tydeus meets him here, and Parthenopaeus, distinguished 
 Highly in war; here, too, appears the pale shade of 
 
 Adrastus ; 
 Here, lamented on earth, the Dardanians fallen in battle, 
 Whom, in a long array, beholding, he groaned in his 
 
 spirit, 
 Glaucus he recognized "there, Thersilochus also, and 
 
 Medon, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 189 
 
 Three of Antenor's line, Polyphaetes, the servant of Ceres, 
 Also Idseus, who still retained both his car and his armonr. 
 Frequent to right and left the spirits come thronging 
 
 about him, 
 Nor does one look suffice; they are ever delighted to 
 
 linger, 
 Eager to walk by his side, and question the cause of his 
 
 coming. 
 Ah! but the chiefs of the Greeks, and Agamemnon's 
 
 battalions, 
 When they behold the man and his glittering arms 
 
 through the shadows, 
 Tremble with deadly fear ; and some turn their backs 
 
 in confusion, 
 Or, as of yore, retreat to their ships ; others raise una- 
 vailing 
 Cries ; their voices die on lips wide parted, but silent. 
 Here Deiphobus, too, son of Priam, he sees, with his 
 
 body 
 Wounded from head to foot, his features all cruelly 
 
 mangled ; 
 Marred are his face and his hands ; his temples are robbed 
 
 of their beauty ; 
 Shorn are his ears, and his nose by a hideous cut is 
 
 disfigured. 
 Hardly he knew him at all, as he trembling covered his 
 
 frightful 
 Wounds, yet he instantly spoke in his well-known voice 
 
 to the hero : — 
 " Valiant and mighty Deiphobus, sprung from the proud 
 
 blood of Teucer, 
 Who hath desired to inflict so cruel a punishment on 
 
 thee ? 
 Who hath been suffered to injure thee thus ? It was 
 
 rumoured among us 
 During that fatal night, that exhausted by killing so 
 
 many, 
 Thou hadst fallen at last on a mound of Pelasgian 
 
 corpses. 
 Then on the Ehoetian shore, by a cenotaph raised in thine 
 
 honour, 
 Taking my stand, I called three times and aloud on thy 
 
 spirit ; 
 
190 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Now thy name and thine arms are guarding the place ; 
 
 thee, my comrade, 
 Vainly I sought, ere departing, to lay in the soil of thy 
 
 country." 
 Answered the son of Priam: "My friend, thou hast 
 
 nothing neglected ; 
 Thou hast done all for Deiphobus, all for the spirit 
 
 departed. 
 Naught but my fate and the murderous crime of the 
 
 Spartan hath plunged me 
 Into these ills ; it is she that hath left me these marks 
 
 of remembrance ; 
 For, how that fatal night we passed in ill-founded 
 
 rejoicing, 
 Well dost thou know, too well to need any word of 
 
 reminder. 
 Soon as the fatal horse leaped over our towering 
 
 ramparts, 
 Pregnant with steel, and filled with a legion of soldiers 
 
 in armour, 
 She, on pretence of a festival, marshalled the Phrygian 
 
 matrons, 
 Dancing with Bacchanal songs, herself in the midst with 
 
 a flaming 
 Torch, and she called to the Greeks from the loftiest 
 
 point of the fortress. 
 Me, with care forespent, and buried in sleep, my ill omened 
 Chamber was sheltering then ; and a deep and delectable 
 
 slumber, 
 Likest the stupor of death, was weighing me down as I 
 
 lay there. 
 Meanwhile my excellent wife had removed all my arms 
 
 from the palace, 
 Even my faithful sword she had stolen from under my 
 
 pillow ; 
 Into the palace she called Menelaus ; my door she threw 
 
 open, 
 Hoping, forsooth, to bestow a most precious reward on 
 
 her lover, 
 Ay ! and that thus might be purged all the sin and the 
 
 shame of her lifetime. 
 Why do I linger? They "burst my door; one comrade is 
 
 added, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 191 
 
 Even that father of crime, Ulysses. Ye gods ! to the 
 
 Grecians 
 Recompense grant in kind, if I with clean lips demand 
 
 vengeance ! 
 But, in return, say, now, what chances have brought 
 
 thee, still living, 
 Into this place ? Dost come by ocean wanderings 
 
 driven ; 
 Or by the gods' decree ? or what is the fortune constrains 
 
 thee 
 Saddened and sunless abodes and realms of confusion to 
 
 visit?" 
 While they exchanged these words, already Aurora 
 
 had traversed, 
 High in her rosy car, the meridian line of the heavens. 
 All their allotted time might perhaps have been spent in 
 
 this manner, 
 But their companion gave warning, and briefly the Sibyl 
 
 admonished : — 
 " Night rushes on, iEneas ; we squander our moments 
 
 in weeping ; 
 This is the place where the path divides into opposite 
 
 courses ; 
 One on the right to the city- of Pluto the mighty 
 
 extending : — 
 We to Elysium thus; — but that on the left retri- 
 bution 
 Brings to the damned, and sends them down to regions 
 
 infernal." 
 Answered Deiphobus, "Nay, great priestess, give over 
 
 thine anger, 
 I will depart, I will fill the roll, and return to the 
 
 shadows : 
 Onward, our Glory, on! Improve thine happier 
 
 fortunes ! " 
 So much only he spake, and speaking turned backward 
 
 his footsteps. 
 Quickly ^Eneas looks back, and sees a broad city 
 
 extending 
 Under a cliff to the left, surrounded by triplicate 
 
 bulwarks. 
 Eound it the swift flowing stream of Tartarean Phlege- 
 
 thon rushes, 
 
192 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Surging with flames of fire, and roaring through rock- 
 laden channel. 
 Huge was the gate in front, with impregnable adamant 
 
 columns, 
 So that no might of man, nor e'en the battalions of 
 
 Heaven 
 Warring against it prevail ; high looms the grim fortress 
 
 of iron ; 
 While Tisiphone, girt with her blood-dripping mantle, is 
 
 crouching, 
 Guarding the entrance by night and by day with no 
 
 respite of slumber. 
 Hence from afar deep groans were heard, and the echo 
 
 of cruel 
 Scourging, and dragging of chains, and the sound of the 
 
 clanking of iron. 
 Halted ^Eneas, and stood dismayed by the noise, and 
 
 bewildered. 
 "What are these forms of crime? Speak boldly, 
 
 maiden, and answer. 
 What are the pains they bear ? Why rises this wailing 
 
 to heaven ? " 
 Thus, then, the priestess replied : " glorious chief of 
 
 the Trojans, 
 No pure spirit is suffered to pass that threshold infernal; 
 But, when great Hecate placed the Avernian grove in my 
 
 keeping, 
 She, herself, showed me all Hell, and taught me the 
 
 judgments of Heaven. 
 Over these stern domains, Ehadamanthus, the Cretan, 
 
 presiding, 
 Tortures hypocrisy true, and forces the false to confes- 
 sion 
 Even of crime committed on earth, whose late expiation 
 Any deferred until death, exulting in futile deception. 
 Armed with her scourges, avenging Tisiphone lashes the 
 
 guilty, 
 Ceaselessly taunting their woe, her left hand lifting her 
 
 cruel 
 Serpents on high, and she calls her pitiless army of 
 
 sisters. 
 Then, with a creaking of "harsh, grating hinges, the ter- 
 rible portals . 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 193 
 
 Open before them at last. Dost see what manner of 
 
 warden 
 Sits in the outer porch, what a shape is on guard at the 
 
 threshold ? 
 Hydra, more cruel and huge, her fifty dark mouths gaping 
 
 open, 
 Watches the gate within ; then Tartarus, yawning before 
 
 Plunges as far again sheer down into the regions of dark- 
 ness 
 As to our upward gaze high tower the crests of Olympus. 
 
 THE HORRORS OF TARTARUS. 
 
 "Here do the first-born children of Earth, her off- 
 spring Titanic, 
 Hurled by the thunder down, still writhe in its deepest 
 
 abysses. 
 Here, too, I saw the Aloidan twins, gigantic of stature, 
 Who with their hands essayed to rend the vast arch of 
 
 the heavens, 
 And to thrust Jupiter down from his throne of celestial 
 
 dominion, 
 There, too, I witnessed the fearful atonement Salmon eus 
 
 rendered, 
 Daring to imitate Jupiter's fire, and Olympian thunder, 
 Borne in a four-horse car, and brandishing torches, he 
 
 proudly 
 Passed through the tribes of Greece, and the principal 
 
 city of Elis. 
 Madman ! to claim for himself the honour due only to 
 
 Heaven, 
 Counterfeiting with brass and the horny hoofs of his 
 
 horses 
 Cloud, and tempest, and hail, and the matchless voice of 
 
 the thunder ! 
 But, from an angry sky, one bolt the omnipotent Pather 
 Hurling, • — not firebrands, he, nor flaring and smouldering 
 
 torches, — 
 Dashed him headlong down by the awful breath of his 
 
 lightning. 
 Tityos, son of all-mothering earth, could be recognized 
 
 also, 
 
194 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Stretched on the ground, his frame o'er nine whole acres 
 
 extending, 
 While, with its curving beak, a ravenous vulture forever 
 Tearing his undying liver and vitals prolific of torment, 
 Worries about for its food, and under his ribs' lofty 
 
 arches 
 Ever abides, and allows no rest to the burgeoning fibres. 
 Why of the Lapithse speak, of Pirithous, or of Ixion, 
 Whom a dark rock overhangs, ever slipping, and trem- 
 bling, and seeming 
 Certain to fall; the frames of grand and luxurious 
 
 couches 
 Glitter with gold, and feasts that a monarch might envy 
 
 are standing 
 Full in their view ; but the chief of the Furies, couching 
 
 beside them, 
 Instantly leaps to her feet if they stretch forth their 
 
 hands to the tables. 
 Beating them back with her torch, and thundering curses 
 
 upon them. 
 Here, whoever on earth hath been guilty of hating a 
 
 brother, 
 Whoso hath beaten a parent, or broken faith with a 
 
 client, 
 All who have selfishly clung to treasure unearthed by 
 
 good fortune, 
 Setting apart no share for their friends — and this throng 
 
 is the greatest — 
 All for adultery slain, and all who have joined in 
 
 sedition, 
 Daring to break their oaths and plighted vows of alle- 
 giance ; 
 All, here imprisoned, await their reward. Seek not to 
 
 discover 
 What that punishment is, or what manner of doom hath 
 
 o'erwhelmed them. 
 Some a huge rock must roll, or, immovably fastened, are 
 
 hanging 
 Stretched by the spokes of wheels ; there sits, and shall 
 
 sit through the ages, 
 Heart-broken Theseus, while Phlegyas mournfully cries 
 
 through the shadows, ' 
 Testifying aloud, and admonishing all who will listen, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 195 
 
 ' Learn from my fate to be just, and hold not the gods in 
 
 derision/ 
 This one hath bartered his country for gold, and a power- 
 ful tyrant 
 Placed on the throne, and laws for a price hath ordained 
 
 and abolished ; 
 This with unholy desire hath dishonoured the name of a 
 
 daughter; 
 All have dared some infamous crime, and daring, achieved 
 
 it. 
 Not, if an hundred tongues were mine, if mine were an 
 
 hundred 
 Mouths, and an iron voice, could tell all the forms of 
 
 transgression, 
 Or all the names rehearse of the retributions they suffer." 
 Soon as the reverend priestess of Phoebus had ended 
 
 her story, 
 " Speed on your way," she cried ; " now finish the course 
 
 undertaken. 
 Hasten we onward ! The walls wrought out in the forge 
 
 of the Cyclops 
 Now I behold, and the gate in the arching rock that con- 
 fronts us, 
 Where we are now required to surrender the gift we are 
 
 bearing." 
 Silently, then, pressing forward together through shadowy 
 
 pathways, 
 Swiftly they cover the space that remains, and draw nigh 
 
 to the portal. 
 Quickly iEneas approaches the entrance, and over his 
 
 body 
 Sprinkles pure water, and fastens the branch to the lintel 
 
 before him. 
 
 THE REALM OF THE BLEST. 
 
 Finally, when this was done, and the rites of the god- 
 dess completed, 
 
 Into glad places they come, and delectable meadows, 
 embosomed 
 
 Deep in delightful groves, the blessed abode of the 
 righteous. 
 
 Here a sublirner air over-mantles the valleys with purple ; 
 
196 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Here their own stars they know, and their own sun shineth 
 
 above them. 
 Some, in grassy courts, are training their disciplined 
 
 bodies, 
 Or, on the yellow sand, are contending in friendly 
 
 encounter ; 
 Others are treading a dance, and marking the measure 
 
 with carols ; 
 Nor does the Thracian bard, apparelled in long flowing 
 
 garments, 
 Pail to awake from his lyre the varying notes of the 
 
 octave, 
 Striking them now with his fingers, and now with an 
 
 ivory plectrum. 
 Here is the ancient line of Teucer's illustrious children, 
 Heroes noble of soul, and nurtured in happier ages : 
 Ilus, Assaracus also, and Dardanus, Ilium's founder. 
 Yonder the arms and the empty cars of the heroes delight 
 
 him; 
 Spears stand fixed in the earth, and, ranging at large 
 
 and untethered, 
 Horses are grazing the plain. All the fondness for car 
 
 and for armour 
 Ever confessed in life, their delight in the care of their 
 
 shining 
 Steeds, abides unchanged long after the body is buried. 
 Others to right and left along the bright sward are 
 
 discovered 
 Feasting, and chanting hymns of glad thanksgiving in 
 
 chorus, 
 Deep in a fragrant grove of laurel, from whence to the 
 
 valley 
 Kolls the abundant tide of Eridanus down through the 
 
 forest. 
 Here are the heroes who fell while fighting the wars 
 
 of their country, 
 Here are the holy priests whose lives upon earth were 
 
 unsullied, 
 Here the poets divine, who sang as inspired by Apollo, — 
 All who have dignified life by the arts they have won by 
 
 invention, 
 All who have worthily earned the lasting regard of their 
 
 fellows, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 197 
 
 All these, having their brows encircled with snow-white 
 
 fillets, 
 Scattered in various groups, the Sibyl addresses as 
 
 follows — 
 Chiefly Musaeus, for him the most numerous band of 
 
 companions 
 Gather about and revere, as he stands head and shoulders 
 
 above them : — 
 "Tell us, ye fortunate souls, and thou most illustrious 
 
 poet, 
 Where is the region, and where the place that is holding 
 
 Anchises ? 
 Tor, for his sake are we come, and have crossed the great 
 
 river of Darkness." 
 Thereupon, briefly the hero replied to the questioning 
 
 Sibyl : — 
 "None hath a changeless abode; we dwell in the 
 
 shadowy forests, 
 Couch by the banks of streams, and wander through rill- 
 freshened meadows ; 
 Yet if your hearts are so eagerly bent on fulfilling your 
 
 mission, 
 Traverse this ridge, and soon I will set a smooth pathway 
 
 before you." 
 Speaking, and taking the lead, he showed them, far down 
 
 in the valley, 
 Sunlighted plains, and then they left the tall hilltops 
 
 behind them. 
 But, in the midst of the green and hill-sheltered valley, 
 
 Anchises 
 Chanced to be fondly reviewing the spirits imprisoned, 
 
 and destined 
 Soon to the light of earth. Yes ! there he stood reckon- 
 ing over 
 All the long roll of his line, and all his beloved 
 
 descendants, 
 Reading the fortune and fate, and the conduct and wars 
 
 of the heroes. 
 When he discovers iEneas approaching across the green 
 
 meadow, 
 Eagerly both his arms are opened wide to receive him ; 
 Wet are his cheeks with tears, and his lips break forth 
 
 in rejoicing: — 
 
198 PUBLIUS VERGIL1US MARO. 
 
 " Oqinest thou, then, at last, and thy long-trusted love for 
 
 &&y father, 
 Hath it the hard way won ? Am I suffered to gaze on 
 
 thy features, 
 O my son ; may we speak in the voices of old to each 
 
 other ? 
 This I kept ever in mind, for this I was trusting the 
 
 future, 
 Counting the lingering days ; nor hath my heart's longing 
 
 deceived me. 
 Borne over how many lands, and o'er what expanses of 
 
 ocean, 
 Thee I receive, and by perils how great hath my son 
 
 been encompassed ! 
 How have I feared lest harm should befall thee in Libya's 
 
 kingdom ! " 
 He, however, "O father, thine image, thy sorrowful 
 
 image, 
 Fronting me often, constrained to continue my course to 
 
 thy dwelling ; 
 Moored is our fleet in the Tuscan sea. O give me, my 
 
 father, 
 Give me thy hand to grasp ; forbid thou me not to em- 
 brace thee ! " 
 Wet were his cheeks with tears, while thus he stood 
 
 earnestly pleading ; 
 Thrice, he attempted to throw his arms 'round the neck 
 
 of his father, 
 Thrice, unavailing clasped, the image denied his embraces 
 Like the light kiss of the wind, still more like a dream 
 
 in its swiftness. 
 Meanwhile iEneas perceives a lonely grove in a distant 
 Part of the valley, and hears the whispering leaves of a 
 
 forest, 
 Also peaceful abodes on the shore of the river of Lethe. 
 Hovering round about were peoples and tribes without 
 
 number ; 
 And, as in meadows where bees, in the cloudless sunshine 
 
 of summer, 
 Cluster on varied flowers, and swarm about snow-white 
 
 lilies, 
 So the whole plain is filled with the murmur of shadowy 
 
 legions. 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 199 
 
 Dazed by so wondrous a sight, and knowing not what it 
 
 portended, * ^ 
 
 Straightway, iEneas inquired the name of the far distant 
 
 river, 
 Who were the men that were thronging its banks in so 
 
 mighty a concourse. 
 Father Anchises replied : " The souls to whom fate hath 
 
 appointed 
 Eeincarnation are there, on the shore of the river of 
 
 Lethe, 
 Endless release from care, and eternal oblivion quaffing. 
 These have I long desired to marshal in order before thee, 
 Naming thee all their names, and rehearsing our line of 
 
 descendants, 
 So that in Italy won, thy joy and mine own may be 
 
 greater." 
 " Must we, my father, believe that hence to the air and 
 
 the daylight 
 Some of the souls will arise, and return into burden- 
 some bodies ? 
 What so dread desire have sorrowful spirits for living ? " 
 " Surely, my son, I will answer, and leave thee no longer 
 
 in darkness," 
 Father Anchises replies, and discusses each question in 
 
 order. 
 " In the beginning the air, and the earth, and the waters 
 
 of ocean, 
 Also the moon's bright orb, the sun, and the great con- 
 stellations, 
 Thrilled with an indwelling soul ; and a spirit, pervading 
 
 each atom, 
 Stirred the whole mass, and informed each part of the 
 
 boundless creation : 
 Whence the race of men, and beasts, and birds was 
 
 engendered, — 
 Yea, and the monsters that breed 'neath the marble plain 
 
 of the ocean. 
 Theirs is the vigour of fire, and celestial the source of 
 
 their being, 
 Save as inimical bodies embarrass their freedom, and 
 
 earth-born 
 Frames and corruptible members have deadened the fire 
 
 of the spirit. 
 

 *w 
 
 
 * f 
 
 m f .1 ■ 
 
 
 m 
 
 W»' 
 
 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 • . 'a • - : * He^^^*e their fears and hopes, their griefs and their 
 
 4 ^flfs ; ano ^> in darkness, 
 
 Prisoned in sightless cw, they attain not the heavenly 
 
 vision : jM& 
 
 Nay, when the lastrXint glimmer of life shall have 
 
 gone from the body, 
 Not even then shall all ills, nor all traces of carnal 
 
 corruption, 
 Leave the unhappy soul ; and it must be that manifold 
 
 evils, 
 Slowly and deeply acquired, are ingrained in a marvellous 
 
 manner. 
 Therefore by pain are they pu^aed, and penance for 
 
 former transgression 
 Pay to the uttermost; some, suspended, are spread to 
 
 the fleeting 
 Winds; from others the stain of sin is washed by a 
 
 whirling 
 Torrent of water away, or the spirit is chastened by 
 
 burning ; 
 Each his own chastisement bears ; thence unto Elysium's 
 
 i freedom 
 We are dismissed, and we few in the fields of the blest 
 
 are abiding 
 Till, when our cycle be ended, a day in the far distant 
 
 future 
 Purge from the purified soul the last lingering vestige of 
 w>*-. evil, 
 
 Leaving a deathless flame of pure uncontaminate spirit. 
 
 ^v After these souls have completed a full millennial circle, 
 
 . God calls them all in a numberless band to the river of 
 
 - # Lethe, 
 
 Jp. That as the future dawns, the past may be wholly forgotten, 
 
 And that again may be born a desire for the life of the 
 
 * SjjKnt Anchises became, then guided his son and the 
 
 Jlibyl 
 Th»ugh the gathering throng to the midst of the mur- 
 
 W muring concourse. 
 Then he selected a mound from whence to survey the 
 ' -■, ^ long column 
 
 Threading the distant plain, and study the faces ap- 
 proaching. 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 201 
 
 THE HEROES OF HOME. 
 
 " Come, now, let me unfold in words what glory the 
 
 future 
 Holds for the Dardan race, what descendants in Italy 
 
 wait thee, 
 Souls of illustrious heroes predestined thy name to 
 
 inherit ; 
 Listen, and I will reveal thy fate and the fate of thy 
 
 people. 
 Seest thou yonder youth, who leans on an ironless spear- 
 shaft ? 
 Fate hath assigned him the earliest place in the light ; 
 
 he shall soonest 
 Rise to the air above, old Troy with new Italy 
 
 blending, — 
 Silvius, Alban the name, the latest born of thy children, 
 Whom in the years of thine age a Lavinian wife shall 
 
 have borne thee ; 
 Child of the forest he, a king, with kings for descendants, 
 Whence o'er the long white city our line shall inherit 
 
 dominion. 
 Next after him is that Procas, the pride of the Ilian 
 
 nation, 
 Capys, and Numitor, too, and, reviving thy name and 
 
 thy glory, 
 Silvius, surnamed iEneas, as famous for faith as^jfor 
 
 fighting, 
 If he shall ever attain his rightful dominion in Alba 
 Ah ! what youths they are ! behold, what a vision of 
 
 valour ! )^";^ ,jM 
 
 Proudly they lift their brows with civic oak over- \W. ^t- ■ *$\ : 
 
 shadowed! ~**| ■" !0$- : 
 
 These shall establish Nomentum, Fidena, and Gabii, for > 
 
 thee; A, ,^" r ' 
 
 Those shall set on the hills the crown of Collatia's * 
 
 castles ; m 
 
 Castrum Inui, too, Pometia, Bola, and Cora ; 
 Lands that are now unnamed shall bear these names in 
 
 the future. 
 Ay ! and the son of Mars shall forever be named with 
 
 his grandsire; 
 Romulus, he who shall call Assaraealfe Ilia mother 
 
 -< 
 
202 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. * 
 
 Seest thou how twin plumes stand forth as a crest from 
 
 his helmet ? 
 How the great Father hath set his own seal of divinity 
 
 on him ? 
 Lo, my son, thine illustrious Borne shall, under his 
 
 sceptre, 
 Measure her empire with earth, and measure her valour 
 
 with Heaven ! 
 She, for herself and alone, seven hills shall surround with 
 
 her ramparts, 
 Blest in her brood of men: as the Berecynthian 
 
 mother, 
 Crowned with her turrets, is borne in her car through 
 
 Phrygian cities, 
 Glad in the birth of gods, and embracing an hundred 
 
 descendants, 
 Habitants all of the sky, all dwelling on lofty Olympus. 
 Hitherward, now, concentre thy gaze ; look forth on this 
 
 nation ; 
 These, thy Bomans, behold! Lo, Caesar and all the 
 
 Itilian 
 Line, predestined to rise to the infinite spaces of heaven. 
 This, yea, this is the man, so often foretold thee in 
 
 promise, 
 Caesar Augustus, descended from God, who again shall a 
 
 golden 
 Age in Latium found, in fields once governed by Saturn. 
 Further than India's hordes, or the Garymantian 
 
 peoples, 
 He shall extend his reign ; there's a land beyond all of 
 
 our planets, 
 'Yond the far track of the year and the sun, where sky- 
 bearing Atlas 
 Turns on his shoulders the firmament studded with bright 
 
 constellations ; 
 Yea, even now, at his coming foreshadowed by omens from 
 
 Heaven, 
 Shudder the Caspian realms, and the barbarous Scythian 
 
 kingdoms, 
 While the disquieted harbours of sevenfold Nile are 
 
 affrighted ! 
 Verily, neither Alcides e'er traversed so much of this 
 
 planet, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 
 
 203 
 
 Though lie hath, slaughtered the brazen-hoofed stag, and 
 
 secured Erymanthus 
 Peace in his forest glades, though his bow hath made 
 
 Lerna to tremble ; 
 Nor, who triumphantly guideth his coursers with vine- 
 wreathed bridle. 
 Bacchus, down-driving his tigers from Nysa's precipitous 
 
 mountains. 
 And do we hesitate still to broaden our prestige by 
 
 valour ? 
 Or shall we yield to fear, and withdraw from Ausonia's 
 
 borders ! 
 Ah, but who yonder is he, distinguished by branches of 
 
 olive, 
 Sacred insignia bearing ? The locks and gray beard of 
 
 the Roman 
 King I recognize there, who first shall establish a city 
 Founded in law; he shall rise from the poor, narrow 
 
 acres of Cumse 
 Unto an empire vast. Then quickly shall come to suc- 
 ceed him 
 Tullus, predestined to break the repose of his country, 
 
 and rally 
 Slumbering heroes, and troops unacquainted with con- 
 quest, to battle. 
 Next after him, behold vainglorious Ancus advancing, 
 Already, even now, too dependent on popular favour. 
 Seest thou, too, the Tarquinian kings, and the proud 
 
 Roman spirit 
 Breathing in Brutus, th' avenger ? behold ye the fasces 
 
 recovered ? 
 Consular power he first shall assume, and the terrible 
 
 axes ; 
 And, in fair Liberty's name, this father shall sentence 
 
 his children 
 Unto the pains of death for conspiring against the 
 
 Republic. 
 Ill-fated hero! However his deeds may be judged in 
 
 the future, 
 Love for his country and boundless ambition for glory 
 
 shall conquer ! 
 Nay, but the Decii see, and the Drusi beyond, and 
 
 Torquatus, 
 

 204 PUBLIUS VERGfylUS MARO. 
 
 Pitiless with his axe, and Camillus jestofangr* the 
 
 standards. 
 Those, however, whose arms thou seest are equal in 
 
 splendour, 
 Spirits harmonious now, and as long as the-^arkness 
 
 constrains them, *S 
 
 How great a war, alas, shall they -wag^^fcliSach other, 
 
 if ever f^ ..■-. ' 
 
 They shall attain to the lignt oTli'fe ; what battle, what 
 
 carnage ! 
 Down from the Alpine heights and the walls of Monoecus, 
 
 the father 
 Rushes to meet the son arrayed with Eastern battalions. 
 Suffer ye not, my lads, your souls to grow used to such 
 
 conflicts ; 
 Turn not your stalwart might against the life of your 
 
 country ! 
 And do thou first forbear, who tracest th^ line to 
 
 Olympus. 
 Fling from thy hand the spear, thou blood of my 
 
 blood ! 
 That one, renowned for the Greeks he hath slain, shall 
 
 drive his triumphant— 
 Car to the Capitol's height, when the city of Corinth is 
 
 conquered ; 
 That one shall Argos destroy, and Agamemnon's 
 
 Mycenae, 
 Capturing Perseus himself, the descendant of warlike 
 
 Achilles, 
 Venging the sires of Troy, and the shrine of dishonoured 
 
 Minerva. 
 Who can great Cato forget, or pass thee, Cossus, in 
 
 silence ? 
 Who the two Gracchi, or Scipios twain, twin lightnings 
 
 of battle, 
 Libya's scourge, or Fabricius, poverty crowning with 
 
 honour ? 
 Or who would name thee not, as thou sowest thy furrow, 
 
 Serranus ? 
 Whither, ye Fabii, bear ye the wearied? That Maxi- 
 
 mus art thou 
 Who dost alone reestablish our prestige in war by 
 
 delaying. 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 205 
 
 Others may fashion the breathing bronze with more 
 
 delicate ringers; 
 Doubtless they also will summon more lifelike features 
 
 from marble ; 
 They shall more cunningly plead at the bar; and the 
 
 mazes of heaven 
 Dra^f to the scale, and determine the march of the swift 
 
 constellations ; 
 Thine be the care, O Rome, to subdue the whole world 
 
 to thine empire ; 
 These be the arts for thee, the order of peace to establish, 
 Them that are vanquished to spare, and them that are 
 
 haughty to humble ! " 
 Thus spake Father Anchises, and thus, as they marvel, 
 
 continued : — 
 " See how Marcellus advances, adorned with rich trophies 
 
 of conquest ! 
 How as a victor he comes, surpassing all heroes in glory ! 
 Knightly defender of Rome, he shall save her from 
 
 deadliest peril, 
 Crushing the armies of Carthage, and quelling the Gallic 
 
 rebellion, 
 Offering trophies thrice in the temple of Father Quirinus." 
 Then did ^Eneas exclaim, — for he saw, by the side of 
 
 Marcellus, 
 Wondrous in beauty, a youth, arrayed in glittering 
 
 armour, 
 Yet with joyless brow, sad eyes, and sorrowful fea- 
 tures : — 
 " Who, my father, is he, who follows yon hero so closely ? 
 Is he his son, or one of his glorious line of descendants ? 
 Round him what comrades are surging ! Himself, how 
 
 inspiring a presence ! 
 Yet is dark night brooding over his head with the 
 
 shadow of sorrow." 
 Then, with a burst of tears, doth Father Anchises make 
 
 answer : — 
 " Ah ! seek not, my son, to learn the deep grief of thy 
 
 people ; 
 Fate shall vouchsafe to the world but a glimpse of his 
 
 glory, nor suffer 
 Earth to detain him long. Too great in your eyes 
 
 would the Roman 
 
206 PUBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO. 
 
 Nation appear, ye gods, were gifts such as these to be 
 
 lasting ! 
 What lamentation of men shall arise from yon plain to 
 
 the mighty 
 City of Mars ! and what funeral rites shalt thou witness, 
 While by his new-made grave thou shalt mournfully 
 
 ripple, O Tiber! 
 Neither shall ever a son of the Ilian line raise the Latin 
 Fathers to hope so high, nor e'er shall the land of the 
 
 Roman 
 Glory so proudly again in any one of her children. 
 Ah, what devotion, what freshness of faith, and, uncon- 
 
 quered in battle, 
 What a right arm were his ! There were none who 
 
 could safely withstand him, 
 Whether with arms he should march on foot to encoun- 
 ter his foemen, 
 Or should he plunge the spur in the flank of his foam- 
 dappled charger. 
 Ah ! thou child of our tears, if thou breakest from fate's 
 
 bitter bondage, 
 Thou, Marcellus shalt be ! Bring lilies, full handfuls of 
 
 lilies, 
 Let me strew blossoms of purple ; at least, let me offer 
 
 thy spirit 
 These little tokens of love, and render this trivial 
 
 tribute ! " 
 So, throughout all that bright country, they wandered 
 
 on hither and thither 
 Over wide, airy plains, and noted each, mountain and 
 
 valley. 
 After Anchises hath guided his son through the vistas 
 
 of Heaven, 
 When he hath kindled his soul with desire for a glorious 
 
 future, 
 Then of the wars that are soon to be waged he speaks 
 
 to the hero ; 
 Tells of Laurentian tribes, and tells of the town of 
 
 Latinus ; 
 Teaching both how to avoid and how to endure each 
 
 misfortune. » 
 Twain are the gates of Sleep, and of these, by common 
 
 tradition, 
 
THE ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 207 
 
 One is of horn, whereby true visions pass easily upward ; 
 Fashioned of ivory fair, the other is white and resplen- 
 dent, 
 Yet are the dreams untrue that the Spirits release 
 
 through its portals. 
 Here, having spoken these words to his son and the 
 
 Sibyl, Anchises 
 Halted his steps, and then, through the ivory gateway 
 
 dismissed them. 
 He by the speediest way returns to his ships and his 
 
 comrades. 
 Coasting the shore to the right he comes to the port of 
 
 Cajeta; 
 Anchor from prow is dropped, and the sterns are at rest 
 
 on the seashore. 
 
 — Translation of Harlan Hoge Ballard. 
 
 (By courteous permission. Published by Houghton, Mifflin, & Co. ) 
 
MANILIUS. 
 
 Manilius, Manlius, or Mallius was the author of an 
 astrological poem in five books entitled " Astronomica." 
 He is supposed to have lived in the age of Augustus, but 
 nothing whatever is known about him. His style was 
 harsh and obscure, but offers some curious details of 
 ancient scientific notions. 
 
 THE MILKY WAY. 
 
 Nor will we hide what ancient Fame profest : 
 How milke which gusht from Iuno's whiter brest 
 In heaven that splendent path and circle drew ; 
 From whence the name, as erst the colour grew. 
 Or troopes of vnseene starres there ioyne their light ; 
 And with vnited splendour shine more bright. 
 Or Soules of Heroes, from their bodies freed, 
 Exchanging Earth for Heaven, (their vertues meede) 
 Shine in that Orbe, their proper place of rest ; 
 And liue aetheriall liues, of heauen possest. 
 
 — Translation of George Sandys (1632). 
 
 208 
 
QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 Horace, the most popular of all the Eoman poets, was 
 born at Venusia, in Apulia, on the 8th of December, 65 
 B.c. His father, formerly a slave, had been manumitted 
 before he was born, and occupied the unpopular calling 
 of tax-gatherer. From its profits he bought his farm in 
 the romantic region south of the River Aufidus, and was 
 enabled to give his talented son the best education then 
 possible. He took him to Rome, probably about the age 
 of twelve, and put him into the most fashionable schools ; 
 one of his teachers, Orbilius Pupillus, as notorious for 
 his severities in flogging as Dryden's Dr. Busby, is com- 
 memorated by Horace in his " Epistles," where he is called 
 plagosus. Horace studied Greek and Latin and in his 
 eighteenth year went to Athens, where he took courses in 
 philosophy at the famous Academy. Later in life he be- 
 came an adherent to the doctrines of Epicurus. In the 
 year 43, after the assassination of Caesar, when Brutus 
 took refuge in Athens, Horace joined his army and was 
 given command of a legion with the rank of military 
 tribune. He shared in the battle of Philippi, and the 
 disgraceful part which he, in common with the republican 
 army, took in running away after their defeat, was made 
 the subject of a playful allusion in the seventh ode of 
 the second book. He obtained pardon, returned to Rome, 
 and was appointed a clerk in the questor's office, where 
 he managed to live by great economy, his paternal estate 
 having been confiscated. Some of his poems attracted 
 the attention of Vergil and others, and he was introduced 
 to Maecenas, the generous patron of literature. They 
 became intimate friends. In 37 Horace accompanied 
 Maecenas on that famous journey to Brundisium so charm- 
 ingly described in the fifth satire. Three years later 
 Maecenas gave the poet a delightful little farm in the 
 valley of Ustica, about fifteen miles from Tibur — the 
 present town of Tivoli. This Sabine farm, with its beau- 
 tiful situation and romantic scenery, is often mentioned 
 
 209 
 
210 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 in Horace's poems. He had a home at Tibur also, and 
 during the latter years of his life when he was not at 
 Home he was at one of these two places. 
 
 The first book of Horace's " Satires " appeared in 35. 
 Two years later he brought out his second book of them. 
 He scores the follies of vice with keen wit, but without 
 lofty moral indignation. The " Epodes," in which he is 
 supposed to have got his inspiration from Archilochus, ap- 
 peared in the year 31. Seven or eight years later, when 
 he had passed his fortieth year, came the three books 
 of "Odes." Full of epigrammatic and felicitous turns 
 of expression, they have always appealed to the scholar. 
 His love poems are delicate and graceful, but they have 
 no depth of passion or feeling. Horace never married. 
 
 The first book of his " Epistles " was published in 20 
 or 19, and with the second book, the date of which is 
 uncertain, are regarded as the most perfect remains of 
 Koman verse. Two years later came the " Carmen Secu- 
 lare " ; and shortly after Horace had reached his fiftieth 
 year he brought out the fourth book of " Odes," the tone 
 of which is far more serious and dignified than the earlier 
 ones. The " Ars Poetica," which may have been written to 
 dissuade one of the younger Pisos from devoting himself 
 to poetry, by holding up its difficulties, especially when 
 one has no calling for it, appeared at some uncertain 
 date toward the end of the author's life. Horace, who 
 was never of very robust health, and had grown stout, 
 died suddenly November 17, 8 b.c. He left no will, and 
 the Emperor Augustus, who was his friend and patron, 
 took charge of his estate and saw that he was buried 
 near Maecenas, who had died a few weeks previously. 
 Horace's philosophy rested on three general maxims in- 
 culcating moderation in all things, present content, and 
 courage in facing an unknown future. He was of gay 
 and buoyant disposition, but possessed of a fine dignity 
 and spirit of independence. His delightful personality 
 seems to breathe from his verses, and no poet ever lived 
 who came nearer to the hearts of more readers. The 
 number of editions of the original and of translations 
 runs up into the thousands. Few scholars have been able 
 to resist the temptation of trying to translate the elusive 
 beauty and cleverness of his poetry. The choice is very 
 great. 
 
TO AUGUSTUS CAESAR. 211 
 
 CIVIL WAR. 
 Epode VII. 
 
 Whither, whither rush ye in fell wrath ? 
 
 Why fit the sheathed sword to red right hands ? 
 Too little hath there yet of Thracian death 
 
 Crimsoned the seas and lands ? 
 
 Not that the envious Punic citadel 
 
 Should fall in fire on Rome's victorious day, 
 
 Or the chained Briton, once invincible, 
 Move down the sacred way. 
 
 But that thou mayest the Parthian prayer fulfil, 
 A self-destroying city. Not such mind 
 
 Have wolves or lions, such a thirst to kill ; 
 They war not with their kind. 
 
 Doth some blind fury, or a spur more keen, 
 
 Urge you, or crime ? I pray you, let me know. 
 
 None answers — their pale stupor may be seen ; 
 Their stricken blood beats low. 
 
 This is it : evil bitter fates impel 
 
 Rome's children, the fraternal murder's crime, 
 Our deep inheritance, since Remus fell, 
 
 Of curse unto all time. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Stanhope Worsley. 
 
 TO AUGUSTUS OESAR. 
 
 Ode II., Book I. 
 
 Enough of snow and hail in tempests dire 
 Have poured on earth, while heaven's eternal Sire 
 With red right arm at his own temples hurled 
 His thunders, and alarmed a guilty world. 
 
 Lest Pyrrha should again with plaintive cries 
 Behold the monsters of the deep arise, 
 When to the mountain summit Proteus drove 
 His sea-born herd, and where the woodland dove 
 
212 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 Late percht, his wonted seat, the scaly brood 
 Entangled hung upon the topmost wood, 
 And every timorous native of the plain, 
 High floating, swam amid the boundless main. 
 
 We saw, pusht backward to his native source, 
 The yellow Tiber roll his rapid course ; 
 With impious ruin threatening Vesta's fane, 
 And the great monuments of Nuina's reign ; 
 
 With grief and rage while Ilia's bosom glows, 
 Boastful, for her revenge, his waters rose ; 
 But now the uxorious river glides away, 
 So Jove commands, smooth-winding to the sea. 
 
 And yet, less numerous by their parents' crimes, 
 Our sons shall hear, shall hear to latest times, 
 Of Roman arms with civil gore imbrued, 
 Which better had the Persian foe subdued. 
 
 Among her guardian gods, what pitying power 
 To raise her sinking state shall Eome implore ? 
 Shall her own hallowed virgins' earnest prayer 
 Harmonious charm offended Vesta's ear ? 
 
 To whom shall Jove assign to purge away 
 The guilty deed ? Come, then, bright god of day, 
 But gracious veil thy shoulders, beamy bright, 
 Oh ! veil in clouds the unsuff erable light. 
 
 Or come, sweet queen of smiles, while round thee rove 
 On wanton wing, the powers of mirth and love ; 
 Or hither, Mars, thine aspect gracious bend, 
 And, powerful, thy neglected race defend. 
 
 Parent of Eome, amidst the rage of fight 
 Sated with scenes of blood, thy fierce delight, 
 Thou, whom the polisht helm, the noise of arms 
 And the stern soldier's frown with transport warms : 
 
 Or thou, fair Maia's winged son, appear, 
 And human shape in prime of manhood wear ; 
 Declared the guardian of the imperial state, 
 Divine avenger of great Caesar's fate : 
 
TO THE SHIP BEARING VERGIL. 213 
 
 Oh ! late return to heaven, and may thy reign 
 With lengthened blessings fill thy wide domain ! 
 Nor let thy people's crimes provoke thy flight 
 On airy pinions to the realms of light. 
 
 Great prince and father of the state, receive 
 The noblest triumphs which thy Rome can give ; 
 Nor let the Parthian with unpunished pride, 
 Beyond his bounds, O Caesar, dare to ride. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Fkancis. 
 
 TO THE SHIP BEAKING VERGIL TO ATHENS. 
 
 Ode III., Book I. 
 
 So may the Queen of Cyprian heights, 
 So Helen's brethren, starry lights, 
 So speed thy course the Lord of wind, 
 And all, save Zephyr, f astly bind : 
 
 O Ship, thou hast a debt to pay, 
 Our Vergil; hold him well, I pray, 
 Unharmed to Attic bounds consign, 
 And save that life, the half of mine. 
 
 ? T was armed with oak and triple brass, 
 His breast, who first made bold to pass 
 In fragile bark the truculent seas, 
 Nor feared the boding Hyades, 
 
 Nor southwest wind at war with north, 
 Nor headlong Notus blustering forth, 
 Like whom no tyrant Adria sways 
 The tempest to allay or raise. 
 
 All forms of death will he defy 
 Who views rude waves with tearless eye, 
 Sea-monsters, and thy deadly sweep, 
 Thou sheer Acroceraunian steep. 
 
214 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 Of purpose Heaven by severing main 
 Divided lands ; but all in vain 
 If rebel ships, in Heaven's despite, 
 May leap the waves, and lands unite. 
 
 For men, o'erbold to do and dare, 
 Eight down the heavenly barriers tear, 
 And Japhet's race, portentous birth, 
 By guilty theft bring fire to earth. 
 
 That crime achieved, a strange array 
 Of Fevers, and unknown Decay, 
 Swept down on man, and Death perforce 
 Made speedier his appointed course. 
 
 The might of Hercules destroyed 
 Hell's bars, and in the airy void 
 With lawless wings, not given to man, 
 The flight of Daedalus began. 
 
 In naught, we think, can mortals fail : 
 We seek, like fools, high heaven to scale ; 
 With crime so rife, Jove cannot lay 
 The bolts, that speak his wrath, away. 
 
 — Translation of William Ewart Gladstone. 
 
 TO LUCIUS SESTIUS. 
 
 Ode IV., Book I. 
 
 Conquee'd with soft and pleasing Charms, 
 
 And never-failing Vows of her Return, 
 
 Winter unlocks his frosty Arms 
 
 To free the joyful Spring ; 
 
 Which for fresh Loves with youthful Heat does burn ; 
 
 Warm South- Winds court her, and with fruitful Showers 
 
 Awake the drowsie Flowers 
 
 Who haste and all their Sweetness bring 
 
 To pay their yearly offering. 
 
TO LUCIUS SESTIUS. 215 
 
 No nipping White is seen, 
 
 But all the Fields are clad in pleasant Green, 
 
 And only fragrant Dews now fall ; 
 
 The Ox forsakes his once warm Stall 
 
 To bask i' th' Sun's much warmer Beams ; 
 
 The Ploughman leaves his Fire and his Sleep, 
 
 Well pleased to whistle to his labouring Teams ; 
 
 Whilst the glad Shepherd pipes to 's frisking Sheep. 
 
 Nay, tempted by the smiling sky 
 
 Wreckt Merchants quit the Shore ; 
 
 Resolving once again to try 
 
 The Wind and Sea's Almighty Power ; 
 
 Chusing much rather to be Dead than Poor. 
 
 Upon the flowery Plains, 
 
 Or under shady Trees, 
 
 The Shepherdesses and their Swains 
 
 Dance to their rural Harmonies ; 
 
 Then steal in private to their covert Groves, 
 
 There finish their well-heightened Loves. 
 
 The City Dame takes this Pretence 
 
 (Weary of Husband and of Innocence) 
 
 To quit the Smoke and Business of the Town, 
 
 And to her Country-House retires, 
 
 Where she may bribe and grasp some Country Clown, 
 
 Or her appointed Gallant come 
 
 To feed her loose Desires ; 
 
 Whilst the poor Cuckold by his Sweat at home 
 
 Maintains her Lust and Pride ; 
 
 Blest as he thinks with such a beauteous Bride. 
 
 Since all the World 's thus gay and free, 
 
 Why should not we ? 
 
 Let 's then accept our Mother Nature's Treat 
 
 And please ourselves with all that 's sweet ; 
 
 Let 's to the shady Bowers, 
 
 Where, Crowned with gaudy Flowers, 
 
 We '11 drink and laugh away the gliding Hours. 
 
 Trust me, Thyrsis, the grim Conqueror Death 
 
 With the same freedom snatches a King's Breath, 
 
 He hurtles the poor fettered Slave 
 
 To 's unknown Grave. 
 
 Though we each Day with Cost repair, 
 
 He mocks our greatest Skill and utmost Care ; 
 
 Nor loves the Fair, nor fears the Strong, 
 
216 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 And he that lives the longest dies but young ; 
 
 And once deprived of Light, 
 
 We 're wrapt in mists of endless night. 
 
 Once come to those dark cells, of which we 're told 
 
 So many strange romantick Tales of old 
 
 (In things unknown Invention 's justly bold), 
 
 No more shall Mirth and Wine 
 
 Our Loves and Wit refine. 
 
 No more shall you your Phyllis have, 
 
 Phyllis so long you 've prized ; 
 
 Nay she too in the Grave 
 
 Shall lye like us despised. 
 
 — Translation of the Eael of Roscommon. 
 
 TO PYKRHA. 
 Ode V., Book I. 
 
 To whom now, Pyrrha, art thou kind ? 
 
 To what Heart-ravisht lover 
 Dost thou thy golden locks unbind, 
 
 Thy hidden sweets discover, 
 And with large bounty open set 
 All the bright stores of thy rich cabinet ? 
 
 Ah, simple youth, how oft will he 
 Of thy changed faith complain ! 
 
 And his own fortunes find to be 
 So airy and so vain : 
 
 Of so camelion-like an hue, 
 
 That still their colour changes with it too ! 
 
 How oft, alas, will he admire 
 
 The blackness of the skies ! 
 Trembling to hear the winds sound higher, 
 
 And see the billows rise : 
 Poor unexperienced he, 
 Who ne'er, alas, before had been at sea ! 
 
 He joys in thy calm sunshine now, 
 And no breath stirring hears ; 
 
TO LYDIA. 217 
 
 In the clear heaven of thy brow 
 
 No smallest cloud appears. 
 He sees thee gentle, fair, and gay, 
 And trusts the faithless April of thy May. 
 
 Unhappy ! Thrice unhappy he, 
 
 T' whom thou untried dost shine ! 
 But there 's no danger now for me, 
 
 Since o'er Loretto's shrine, 
 In witness of the shipwreck past, 
 My consecrated vessel hangs at last. 
 
 — Translation of "William Cowley. 
 
 TO LYDIA. 
 
 Ode VIII., Book I. 
 
 Enchanting Lydia ! prithee, 
 By all the gods that see thee, 
 
 Pray tell me this : must Sybaris 
 Perish, enamoured with thee ? 
 Lo ! wrapt as in a trance, he 
 Whose hardy youth could fancy 
 
 Each manly feat, dreads dust and heat, 
 All through thy necromancy ! 
 
 Why rides he never, tell us, 
 
 Accoutred like his fellows, 
 Eor curb and whip, and horsemanship, 
 
 And martial bearing zealous ? 
 
 Why hangs he back, demurrent 
 
 To breast the Tiber's current, 
 Prom wrestlers' oil, as from the coil 
 
 Of poisonous snake, abhorrent ? 
 
 No more with iron rigour 
 
 Rude armour-marks disfigure 
 His pliant limbs, but languor dims 
 
 His eye and wastes his vigour. 
 
 Gone is the youth's ambition 
 
 To give the lance emission, 
 Or hurl adroit the circling quoit 
 
 In gallant competition. 
 
218 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 And his embowered retreat is 
 
 Like where the Son of Thetis 
 Lurked undivulged, while he indulged 
 
 A mother's soft entreaties, 
 
 Eobed as a Grecian girl, 
 
 Lest soldier-like apparel 
 Might raise a flame, and his kindling frame 
 
 Through the ranks of slaughter whirl. 
 
 — Translation of Fkancis Mahoney. 
 
 TO THE THALIAECH. 
 
 Ode IX., Book L 
 
 Behold yon Mountain's hoary height, 
 Made higher with new Mounts of Snow ; 
 Again behold the Winter's weight 
 Oppress the lab'ring Woods below : 
 And Streams with Icy Fetters bound, 
 Benumbed and crampt to solid Ground. 
 
 With well heapt Logs dissolve the Cold, 
 And feed the genial heat with Fires ; 
 Produce the Wine, that makes us bold, 
 And sprightly Wit and Love inspires ; 
 For what hereafter shall betide, 
 God, if 't is worth his Care, provide. 
 
 Let Him alone with what He made, 
 
 To toss and turn the World below ; 
 
 At His Command the Storms invade ; 
 
 The Winds by his Commission blow ; 
 
 Till with a Nod He bids 'em cease, 
 
 And then the Calm returns, and all is Peace. 
 
 To-morrow and her Works defy, 
 Lay hold upon the present Hour, 
 And snatch the Pleasures passing by, 
 To put them out of -Fortune's Pow'r: 
 Nor Love, nor Love's Delights disdain. 
 Where'er thou gett'st To-day is Gain. 
 
TO THE SPRING OF BANDUSIA. 219 
 
 Secure those Golden early Joys, 
 
 That Youth unshow'red with sorrow bears, 
 
 Ere withering Time the taste destroys, 
 
 With Sickness and unwieldy Years ! 
 
 For active Sports, for pleasing Rest, 
 
 This is the time to be possest, 
 
 The Best is but in Season best. 
 
 The 'pointed Hour of promist Bliss, 
 The pleasing Whisper in the Dark, 
 The half unwilling willing Kiss, 
 That Laugh that guides thee to the Mark, 
 When the kind Nymph wou'd Coyness feign, 
 And hides but to be found again, 
 These, these are Joys the Gods for Youth ordain. 
 — Paraphrase of John Dryden. 
 
 TO THE SPRING OF BANDUSIA. 
 
 Ode XIII. , Book III. 
 
 O Bandusian Spring, clearer than clearest glass, 
 Worthy the sweetest of wine and garlands of fragrant 
 flowers, 
 
 To-morrow I will bring thee 
 
 A kid, whose forehead, 
 
 Swollen with budding horns, doth love and battle fore- 
 tell,— 
 Vainly, alas! — the youngling, pride of the wanton flock, 
 
 With crimson must ensanguine 
 
 Thy clear cold ripples. 
 
 The fiery midsummer noon never can pierce thy shade, 
 Grateful coolness thou hast to glad the wandering kine, 
 
 And the slow-stepping oxen 
 
 With ploughshare wearied. 
 
 Among the fountains of fame I will make room for thee, 
 Singing thine ilex-trees that spread their sheltering boughs 
 
 Over thy rocky hollows 
 
 And babbling runnels. 
 
 — Translation of Margaret Foster Herrick. 
 
220 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 THE SHIP OF STATE. 
 
 Ode XIV., Book I. 
 
 Oh Ship ! new billows sweep thee out 
 
 Seaward. What wilt thou ? Hold the port, be stout. 
 
 See'st not thy mast 
 How rent by stiff Southwestern blast ? 
 
 Thy side, of rowers how forlorn ? 
 
 Thine hull, with groaning yards, with rigging torn, 
 
 Can ill sustain 
 The fierce, and ever fiercer main ; 
 
 Thy gods, no more than sails entire, 
 
 From whom yet once thy need might aid require, 
 
 Oh Pontic Pine, 
 The first of woodland stocks is thine, 
 
 Yet race and name are but as dust. 
 
 Not painted sterns give storm-tost seamen trust ; 
 
 Unless thou dare 
 To be the sport of storms, beware. 
 
 Of old at best a weary weight, 
 
 A yearning care and constant strain of late, 
 
 O shun the seas 
 That gird those glittering Cyclades. 
 
 — Translation of William Ewakt Gladstone. 
 
 THE PEOPHECY OF NEEEUS. 
 Ode XV., Book I. 
 
 As the treacherous shepherd bore over the deep 
 
 His hostess, fair Helena, Kereus arose, 
 Husht the war of the winds for a season to sleep, 
 
 And thus sang the doom of retributive woes : 
 
 " Thou bearest her home with an omen of dread, 
 
 Whom Greece shall reclaim, with her myriads vowed 
 
 To tear, by the sword, thy false mate from thy bed, 
 And crush Priam's empire, the ancient, the proud. 
 
THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS. 221 
 
 " Horse and man, how they labour ! What deaths shall 
 overwhelm, 
 
 And all for thy crime, the Dardanians in night ! 
 See Pallas preparing her aegis and helm, 
 
 Her chariot, and all the fierce frenzy of fight ! 
 
 " Go, trim as thou wilt, boy, thy loose flowing curls, 
 Go, vaunt thee, that Venus shall shield thee from 
 wrong, 
 
 And, laid with thy lute 'midst a bevy of girls, 
 Troll thy measures effeminate all the day long. 
 
 " Ay, hide an thou may'st in the couch of thy lust 
 
 From the death-dealing spear, and the arrows of Crete, 
 
 From the roar of the battle, its carnage, its dust, 
 And Ajax pursuing, remorseless and fleet ! 
 
 " Yet in gore thy adulterous locks shall be rolled, 
 
 Though late be thy doom. Lo, the scourge of thy race, 
 
 Laertiades ! Dost thou not see him ! Behold ! 
 And Pylian Nestor ! — And see, on thy trace 
 
 " Rushes Teucer of Salamis, dauntless and fell, 
 And Sthenelus, skilful in combat, nor less 
 
 In ruling the war-steed expert to excel, 
 
 And close on thy track, too, shall Merion press. 
 
 " Lo, Tydides, surpassing his father in might, 
 Athirst for thy lifeblood, with furious cheer 
 
 Is hunting thee out through the thick of the fight, 
 While before him thou fly'st, like a timorous deer, 
 
 " Who, espying a wolf on the brow of the hill, 
 
 Flies far from the pasture, with heart-heaving pants ; 
 
 Is it thus that thy leman shall see thee fulfil 
 The promise of all thy presumptuous vaunts ? 
 
 " The wrath of Achilles shall stay for a while 
 The downfall of Ilion, and Phrygians dames, — 
 
 Yet a few winters more, and her funeral pile 
 In ashes shall fall 'midst Achaian flames ! " 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
222 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 THE RECANTATION. 
 
 Ode XVI., Book I. 
 
 Lovely mother's lovelier daughter, 
 
 Those sharp verses, edged with blame, 
 
 Hurl into the Adrian water, 
 
 Cancel, if thou wilt, with name, 
 
 Rhea from her mountain-hollow, 
 
 Liber at his royal feasts, 
 
 Erom his Delphian shrine Apollo, 
 
 Shake the spirit of their priests. 
 
 Hark, the votaries loud and often 
 
 Shrilly clanging cymbals ring — 
 
 These are savage, but may soften — 
 
 Anger is a sterner thing. 
 
 Not the ship-destroying ocean, 
 
 Noric steel, or flaming fire, 
 
 Not the storm-god's mighty motion 
 
 Fright it from its purpose dire. 
 
 When Prometheus first transmuted 
 
 Atoms culled for human clay, 
 
 Deep the lion's rage he rooted 
 
 In our breast, as legends say. 
 
 Anger with a grievous ruin 
 
 Smote Thyestes and his line ; 
 
 This, the fount of sheer undoing, 
 
 Left of cities scarce a sign, 
 
 When among the sworded nations, 
 
 Armies flusht with pride and spoil 
 
 Ploughed up many a State's foundations 
 
 Planted in imperial soil. 
 
 Curb thy soul with juster measures — 
 
 Me youth's sweetness, prone to wrong, 
 
 Heated into quick displeasures, 
 
 And an ill-directed song. 
 
 Now my bitterness would mellow ; 
 
 I annul the trenchant strain ; 
 
 Be once more my true love-fellow ; 
 
 Take me to thy heart again. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Stanhope Wobsley. 
 
TO CHLOE. 223 
 
 TO TYNDAKIS. 
 Ode XVTL, Book I. 
 
 Oft Eaunus leaves Arcadia's plain, 
 
 And to the Sabine hill retreats : 
 He guards my flocks from rushing rain, 
 
 From piercing winds, and scorching heats, 
 Where lurks the thyme, or shrubs appear, 
 
 My wanton kids securely play ; 
 My goats no poisonous serpent fear, 
 
 Safe wandering through the woodland way. 
 No hostile wolf the fold invades ; 
 
 Ustica's pendant rocks rebound 
 My song ; and all the sylvan shades, 
 
 By echo taught, return the sound. 
 The gods my verse propitious hear, 
 
 My head from every danger shield : 
 For you o'erflows the bounteous year, 
 
 And plenty's horn hath heaped my field. 
 Responsive to the Teian string 
 
 Within the Sun-defended vale, 
 Here, softly warbling, you shall sing 
 
 Each tender, tuneful, amorous tale. 
 No rival here shall burst the bands 
 
 That wreathe my charmer's beauteous hair, 
 Nor seize her weakly struggling hands ; 
 
 But love and Horace guard the fair. 
 
 — Translation of Marriott. 
 
 TO CHLOE. 
 Ode XXIII. , Book I. 
 
 You shun me, Chloe, wild and shy, 
 
 As some stray fawn that seeks its mother 
 
 Through trackless woods. If spring winds sigh 
 It vainly strives its fears to smother. 
 
 Its trembling knees assail each other 
 When lizards stir the brambles dry ; — 
 
 You shun me, Chloe, wild and shy, 
 
 As some stray fawn that seeks its mother. 
 
224 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 And yet no Libyan lion I, — 
 
 No ravening thing to rend another ; 
 
 Lay by yonr tears, your tremors dry, 
 A husband's better than a brother ; 
 
 Nor shun me, Chloe, wild and shy, 
 
 As some stray fawn that seeks its mother. 
 
 — Paraphrase of Austin Dobson. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 Ode XXXI., Book I. 
 
 What asks the poet, who adores k 
 
 Apollo's virgin shrine, 
 What asks he, as he freely pours 
 
 The consecrating wine ? 
 
 Not the rich grain, that waves along 
 
 Sardinia's fertile land, 
 Nor the unnumbered herds, that throng 
 
 Calabria's sultry strand ; 
 
 Not gold, nor ivory's snowy gleam, 
 
 The spoil of far Cathay, 
 Nor fields, which Liris, quiet stream, 
 
 Gnaws silently away. 
 
 Let fortune's favoured sons the vine 
 
 Of fair Campania hold ; 
 The merchant quaff the rarest wine 
 
 From cups of gleaming gold ; 
 
 For to the gods the man is dear 
 
 Who scathlessly can brave, 
 Three times or more in every year, 
 
 The wild Atlantic wave. 
 
 Let olives, endive, mallows light 
 
 Be all my fare ; and health 
 Give thou, Latoe, so I might 
 
 Enjoy my present wealth ! 
 
TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS. 225 
 
 Give me but these, I ask no more, 
 
 These, and a mind entire — 
 And old age, not unhonoured, nor 
 
 Unsolaced by the lyre ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. 
 
 TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS. 
 Ode XXXIII, Book I. 
 
 Nay, Albins, a truce to this sighing and grieving ! 
 
 Is Glycera worth all this tempest of woe ? 
 Why flatter her, lachrymose elegies weaving, 
 
 Because she is false for a youthfuller beau ? 
 
 There's Lycoris, the maid with the small rounded 
 forehead, 
 
 For Cyrus is wasting by inches away; 
 Whilst for Pholoe he, with a passion as torrid, 
 
 Consumes, and to him she '11 have nothing to say. 
 
 The she-goats, in fact, might be sooner expected 
 Apulia's wolves for their partners to take, 
 
 Than a girl so divine to be ever connected 
 With such an abandoned and pitiful rake. 
 
 Such caprices hath Venus, who, rarely propitious, 
 
 Delights in her fetters of iron to bind 
 Those pairs whom she sees, with a pleasure malicious, 
 
 Unmatched both in fortune, and figure, and mind. 
 
 I, myself, wooed by one that was truly a jewel, 
 In thraldom was held, which I cheerfully bore, 
 
 By that common chit, Myrtale, though she was cruel 
 As waves that indent the Calabrian shore. 
 
 — Anonymous. 
 
226 QUINT US HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 TO HIMSELF. 
 
 Ode XXXIV., Book I. 
 
 Amid a herd of learned fools, 
 I traced old Epicurus' rules, 
 Through all the mazes of the schools, 
 
 And seldom deigned to pray : 
 But now no more his schemes prevail, 
 I veer to catch a different gale, 
 And to religion's harbour sail, 
 
 As reason points the way. - 
 
 Arrayed in all the pomp of war, 
 The god ascends his burning car, 
 Quiver the lightnings from afar, 
 
 And the big clouds divide. 
 Involved in horrid gloom he flies 
 Impetuous, down the passive skies, 
 While, round his throne, loud tempests rise, 
 
 And fires before him glide. 
 
 Heaven shrinks beneath his rolling wheels, 
 His thunder shakes the eternal hills, 
 And the vast flood her bed reveals, 
 
 To shun the approaching god. 
 E'en the deep vaults of hell below, 
 Where streams of endless torments flow, 
 Tremble, while horrid lightnings glow 
 
 Through all the dark abode. 
 
 Almighty God ! Eternal King ! 
 Who can thy matchless glories sing ? 
 Erom thee, the fates of nations spring, 
 
 • And tyrants own thy sway ; 
 Whose power can pull the mighty down, 
 Exalt the peasant to a throne, 
 And place the deeds of hands unknown, 
 Amid the blaze of day. 
 
 — Anonymous Philadelphia Version. 
 
TO FORTUNE. 227 
 
 TO FORTUNE. 
 
 Ode XXXV., Book I. 
 
 O goddess, whose power and absolute sway 
 The fair town of Antimn delights to obey ! 
 Whose hand from despair can the suppliant save, 
 Or change the gay triumph of joy to a grave ! 
 
 To thee, the poor rustic, who labours the soil, 
 Prefers his petition to prosper his toil ; 
 The sailor who braves the loud storm-troubled sea, 
 Thou mistress of ocean, bows humbly to thee. 
 
 The rough, hardy Dacian and Scythian untaught, 
 By Rome's warlike sons are thy auspices sought ; 
 Mother-queens, cities, nations, thy blessings implore, 
 And tyrants, with trembling, thy godhead adore. 
 
 Forbear then, in anger, with ruinous tread, 
 To crush the bright column, or humble its head ! 
 Nor rouse from sweet peace the fierce nations to arms, 
 Convulsing the empire with civil alarms. 
 
 Before thee Necessity marches in state, 
 With wedges and nails, and dire emblems of fate ; 
 Aloft in her hand is each torture displayed, 
 The hook sore-tormenting, and hot-molten lead. 
 
 Kind friendship and Hope in white robes still remain, 
 Attend on thy glories, and add to thy train ; 
 Though angry you change the bright garb of your state. 
 And fly, in mean garments, the courts of the great. 
 
 The base needy vulgar, and false-swearing whore, 
 Will slight the cold friendship of him that is poor ; 
 When poverty threats will ungratefully fly 
 Whose coffers are empty, and casks all are dry. 
 
 On Ccesar's brave arms, ! propitiously smile, 
 Now forcing his march to Britannia's far isle ; 
 Preserve our young soldiers, and may they succeed, 
 Spread terror through Asia, and humble the Mede ! 
 
228 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 What slaughters and murder our bodies disdain ; 
 See brother, by brother, inhumanly slain ! 
 What altar, or shrine, has escaped from the rage 
 Of faction and crimes, in this curst iron age ? 
 
 Then brighten, goddess ! our weapons once more, 
 Besmeared with rank murder and citizen's gore, 
 Let our swords be unsheathed 'gainst the foes of the state, 
 The vagabond Arab, and treacherous Gete. 
 
 — Valley Forge paraphrase (1778). 
 
 TO CBISPUS SALLUSTIUS CKISPUS. 
 Ode II. , Book II. 
 
 Yes, you deservedly despise 
 
 The wealth that use ne'er taught to shine, 
 That rusting in the coffer lies 
 Like ore yet buried in the mine ; 
 For gold, my friend, no lustre knows 
 But what a wise well-tempered use bestows. 
 
 Thee, Proculeius ! distant days 
 
 Will bless, and make thy virtues known, 
 Conspiring tongues will sound thy praise, 
 A father's love to brethren shown : 
 Transcendent worth, like thine, will fly 
 On Fame's unflagging pinions through the sky. 
 
 A monarch far more potent he 
 
 Who subject keeps his wayward soul ; 
 Who lives from sordid avarice free, 
 And dares each fiercer lust control, 
 Than he whose universal sway 
 Wide earth's extremes, her East and West obey. 
 
 That sensual self-indulgent wretch 
 
 Whose skin the panting dropsy strains, 
 Still must the watery languor stretch, 
 And only Temperance ease his veins ; 
 So growing wealth prompts new desire, 
 And Fortune's breeze but fans the wasting fire. 
 
TO QUINTUS DELLIUS. 229 
 
 The Persian hails the public voice 
 
 Decked with the crown that Cyrus wore ; 
 But virtue sanctions not the choice ; 
 She calls Phraates, blest no more : 
 Can tyrant hands, denied with sin, 
 The fair, the spotless mind of virtue win ? 
 
 Virtue, their rule perverse, shall own 
 
 Which bliss to wealth and grandeur leaves, 
 From virtue he and he alone, 
 The wreath and diadem receives 
 Who dares the glittering heap pass by 
 With steadfast mien and unreverted eye. 
 
 — Translation of Gilbert Wakefield. 
 
 TO QUINTUS DELLIUS. 
 Ode III., Book II. 
 
 When dangers press, a mind sustain 
 Unshaken by the storms of Pate ; 
 
 And when delight succeeds to pain, 
 With no glad insolence elate ; 
 
 Por death will end the various toys 
 
 Of hopes, and fears, and cares, and joys. 
 
 Mortal alike, if sadly grave 
 
 You pass life's melancholy day, 
 
 Or, in some green retired cave 
 Wearing the idle hours away, 
 
 Give to the Muses all your soul, 
 
 And pledge them in the flowing bowl : 
 
 Where the broad pine, and poplar white, 
 To join their hospitable shade 
 
 With intertwisted boughs delight ; 
 And, o'er its pebbly bed conveyed, 
 
 Labours the winding stream to run, 
 
 Trembling, and glittering to the sun. 
 
230 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 Thy generous wine, and rich perfume, 
 And fragrant roses hither bring, 
 
 That with the early zephyrs bloom, 
 And wither with declining spring, 
 
 While joy and youth not yet have fled, 
 
 And Fate still holds the uncertain thread. 
 
 You soon must leave your verdant bowers 
 And groves, yourself had taught to grow ; 
 
 Your soft retreats from sultry hours, 
 Where Tiber's gentle waters flow, 
 
 Soon leave ; and all you call your own 
 
 Be squandered by an heir unknown. 
 
 Whether of wealth and lineage proud, 
 A high patrician name you bear, 
 
 Or pass ignoble in the crowd 
 
 Unsheltered from the midnight air, 
 
 ? T is all alike ; no age or state 
 
 Is spared by unrelenting Fate. 
 
 To the same port our barks are bound ; 
 
 One final doom is fixt for all : 
 The universal wheel goes round, 
 
 And, soon or late, each lot must fall, 
 When all together shall be sent 
 To one eternal banishment. 
 
 — Translation of John Herman Merivale. 
 
 TO XAOTHIAS PHOCEUS. 
 
 Ode IV., Book II. 
 
 Nat, if thou lov'st thy handmaid, Xanthias, blush not 
 Long since the slave Brisei's, with white beauty 
 O'ermastering him who ne'er before had yielded, 
 Conquered Achilles ; 
 
 So, too, the captive form of fair Tecmessa 
 Conquered her captor Telamonian Ajax ; 
 And a wronged maiden, in the midst of triumph, 
 Fired Agamemnon, 
 
THE MEAN. 231 
 
 What time had fallen the barbarian forces 
 Before the might of the Thessalian victor, 
 And Hector's loss made easy to worn Hellas 
 Troy's mighty ruin. 
 
 How dost thou know but what thy fair-haired Phyllis 
 May make thee son-in-law to splendid parents ? 
 Doubtless she mourns the wrong to race and hearth-gods 
 Injured, but regal. 
 
 Believe not thy beloved of birth plebeian ; 
 A girl so faithful, so averse from lucre, 
 Could not be born of an ignoble mother 
 Whom thou wouldst blush for. 
 
 That lovely face, those arms, those tapering ankles — 
 Nay, in my praises never doubt my honour : 
 The virtuous man who rounds the age of forty 
 Hold unsuspected. 
 
 — Translation of Lord Lttton. 
 
 THE MEAN. 
 
 Ode X., Book II. 
 
 This is the better life, dear friend, 
 Not always in mid sea to wend, 
 Nor yet distrustfully portend 
 
 Storms hourly near, 
 And hug, not wisely in the end, 
 
 111 shores in fear. 
 
 That man, who in his soul hath seen 
 How lovely is the golden mean, 
 He lacks the wretchedness unclean 
 
 Of used-up walls ; 
 He lacks, in soberness serene, 
 
 Wealth's envied halls. 
 
232 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 Pines of a stature proud and vast 
 Shake oftener when the winds rush past, 
 Down to the earth high towers are cast 
 
 With heavier fall, 
 And still the fiery lightnings blast 
 
 The hill-tops tall. 
 
 The breast, that wisdom's rule obeys, 
 Hopes for a change in evil days, 
 And fears it amid prosperous ways 
 
 Remote from ill ; 
 Since God both causes and allays 
 
 Our storms at will. 
 
 If fortune fail thee now, yet know 
 It will not evermore be so ; 
 Apollo may his lute forego, 
 
 But not forever, 
 Nor bears he always a strung bow 
 
 And armed quiver. 
 
 Thou, when adversities ensue, 
 
 Prove thyself constant, brave and true, 
 
 And when the risks seem far and few, 
 
 Mid favouring gales 
 Purl in good hour, with caution due, 
 
 Thy swelling sails. 
 — Translation of Philip Stanhope Worslet. 
 
 TO POSTUMUS. 
 
 Ode XIV., Book II. 
 
 How swiftly glide our flying years ! 
 Alas ! nor piety, nor tears 
 
 Can stop the fleeting day ; 
 Deep-furrowed wrinkles, posting age, 
 And death's unconquerable rage, 
 
 Are strangers to delay. 
 
TO POSTUMUS. 233 
 
 Though every day a bull should bleed 
 To Pluto, bootless were the deed, 
 
 The monarch tearless reigns, 
 Where vulture-tortured Tityus lies, 
 And triple Geryon's monstrous size 
 
 The gloomy wave detains. 
 
 Whoever tastes of earthly food 
 Is doomed to pass the joyless flood, 
 
 And hear the Stygian roar ; 
 The sceptred king, who rules the earth, 
 The labouring hind, of humbler birth, 
 
 Must reach the distant shore. 
 
 The broken surge of Adria's main, 
 Hoarse-sounding, we avoid in vain, 
 
 And Mars in blood-stained arms ; 
 The southern blast in vain we fear, 
 And autumn's life-annoying air 
 
 With idle fears alarms j 
 
 For all must see Cocytus flow, 
 Whose gloomy water sadly slow 
 
 Strays through the dreary soil. 
 The guilty maids, an ill-famed train! 
 And, Sisyphus, thy labours vain, 
 
 Condemned to endless toil. 
 
 Your pleasing consort must be left, 
 And you of villas, lands, bereft, 
 
 Must to the shades descend ; 
 The cypress only, hated tree ! 
 Of all thy much-loved groves, shall thee, 
 
 Its short-lived lord, attend. 
 
 Then shall your worthier heir discharge, 
 And set th' imprisoned casks at large, 
 
 And dye the floor with wine, 
 So rich and precious, not the feasts 
 Of holy pontiffs cheer their guests 
 
 With liquor more divine. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Francis. 
 
234 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 TO DELLIUS. 
 Ode III., Book III. 
 
 The man resolved and steady to his trust, 
 Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just, 
 May the rude rabble's insolence despise, 
 Their senseless clamours and tumultuous cries ; 
 
 The tyrant's fierceness he beguiles, 
 And the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies, 
 
 And with superior greatness smiles. 
 Not the rough whirlwind that deforms 
 Adria's black gulf, and vexes it with storms, 
 The stubborn virtue of his soul can move ; 
 Nor the red arm of angry Jove, 
 That flings the thunder from the sky, 
 And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly. 
 Should the whole frame of Nature round him break, 
 
 In ruin and confusion hurled, 
 He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack, 
 
 And stand secure amidst a falling world. 
 Such were the godlike arts that led 
 
 Bright Pollux to the blest abodes ; 
 Such did for great Alcides plead, 
 
 And gained a place amongst the gods ; 
 Where now Augustus, mixt with heroes, lies, 
 And to his lips the nectar bowl applies : 
 His ruddy lips the purple tincture show, 
 And with immortal stains divinely glow. 
 By arts like these did young Lyaeus rise : 
 His tigers drew him to the skies ; 
 
 Wild from the desert, and unbroke, 
 In vain they foamed, in vain they stared, 
 In vain their eyes with fury glared ; 
 He tamed them to the lash, and bent them to the yoke. 
 
 Such were the paths that Rome's great founder trod, 
 When in a whirlwind snatcht on high, 
 He shook off dull mortality, 
 
 And lost the monarch in the god. 
 Bright Juno then her awful silence broke, 
 And thus the assembled deities bespoke : 
 " Troy," says the goddess, " perjured Troy has felt 
 The dire effects of her proud tyrant's guilt ; 
 
TO DELLIUS. 235 
 
 The towering pile, and soft abodes, 
 
 Walled by the hand of servile gods, 
 
 Now spreads its ruins all around, 
 
 And lies inglorious on the ground. 
 
 An umpire partial and unjust, 
 
 And a lewd woman's impious lust 
 
 Lay heavy on her head, and sank her to the dust. 
 
 Since false Laomedon's tyrannic sway 
 
 That durst defraud the immortals of their pay, 
 
 Her guardian gods renounced their patronage, 
 
 Nor would the fierce invading foe repel ; 
 To my resentment, and Minerva's rage, 
 
 The guilty king and the whole people fell. 
 And now the long-protracted wars are o'er, 
 The soft adulterer shines no more ; 
 No more does Hector's force the Trojans shield, 
 That drove whole armies back, and singly cleared the 
 
 field. 
 My vengeance sated, I at length resign 
 To Mars his offspring of the Trojan line : 
 Advanced to godhead, let him rise, 
 And take his station in the skies : 
 There entertain his ravisht sight 
 With scenes of glory, fields of light : 
 Quaff with the gods immortal wine, 
 And see adoring nations crowd his shrine. 
 
 The thin remains of Troy's afflicted host 
 In distant realms may seats unenvied find, 
 
 And flourish on a foreign coast ; 
 But far be Rome from Troy disjoined, 
 Removed by seas from the disastrous shore, 
 May endless billows rise between, and storms unnumbered 
 
 roar. 
 Still let the curst detested place 
 Where Priam lies, and Priam's faithless race, 
 Be covered o'er with weeds, and hid in grass. 
 There let the wanton flocks unguarded stray ; 
 
 Or, while the lonely shepherd sings, 
 Amidst the mighty ruins play, 
 
 And frisk upon the tombs of kings. 
 May tigers there, and all the savage kind 
 Sad solitary haunts and deserts find ; 
 In gloomy vaults and nooks of palaces, 
 
236 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 May the unmolested lioness 
 
 Her brindled whelps securely lay, 
 
 Or, couched, in dreadful slumbers waste the day. 
 
 While Troy in heaps of ruins lies, 
 
 Eome and the Roman Capitol shall rise ; 
 
 The illustrious exiles unconfmed 
 
 Shall triumph far and near, and rule mankind. 
 
 In vain the sea's intruding tide 
 
 Europe from Afric shall divide, 
 
 And part the severed world in two : 
 
 Through Af ric's sands their triumphs they shall spread, 
 And the long train of victories pursue 
 
 To Nile's yet undiscovered head. 
 Riches the hardy soldiers shall despise, 
 And look on gold with undesiring eyes, 
 Nor the disbowelled earth explore 
 In search of the forbidden ore ; 
 Those glitterings ills, concealed within the mine 
 Shall lie untoucht, and innocently shine. 
 To the last bounds that nature sets 
 The piercing colds and sultry heats, 
 The godlike race shall spread their arms ; 
 Now fill the polar circle with alarms, 
 Till storms and tempests their pursuits confine ; 
 Now sweat for conquest underneath the line. 
 This only law the victor shall restrain ; 
 On these conditions shall he reign : 
 If none his guilty hand employ 
 To build again a second Troy, 
 If none the rash design pursue, 
 Nor tempt the vengeance of the gods anew. 
 A curse there cleaves to the devoted place, 
 That shall the new foundations raze ; 
 Greece shall in mutual leagues conspire 
 To storm the rising town with fire, 
 And at their armies' head myself will show 
 "What Juno, urged to all her rage, can do. 
 Thrice should Apollo's self the city raise, 
 And line it round with walls of brass ; 
 Thrice should my favourite Greeks his works confound, 
 And hew the shining fabric to the ground : 
 Thrice should her captive dames to Greece return, 
 And their dead sons and slaughtered husbands mourn." 
 
 
LOVE RENEWED. 237 
 
 But hold, my muse, forbear thy towering flight, 
 
 Nor bring the secrets of the gods to light : 
 
 In vain would thy presumptuous verse 
 
 The immortal rhetoric rehearse ; 
 
 The mighty strains, in lyric numbers bound, 
 
 Forget their majesty, and lose the sound. 
 
 — Translation of John Addison. 
 
 LOVE KENEWED. 
 Ode IX., Book m. 
 
 Horace. While to thee no other name was nearer, 
 
 Ere a rival youth aspired to fling 
 Round thy snow-white neck embraces dearer, 
 
 I lived richer than a king. 
 
 Lydia. Ere a new flame to thy false heart beckoned, 
 When the elder passion seemed divine, 
 
 Nor was Lydia yet to Chloe second, 
 Eoman Ilia's glory paled to mine. 
 
 Horace. Now lute-learned, skilled in measures tender, 
 Thracian Chloe doth my heart enslave, 
 
 Life for her I dread not to surrender, 
 If the Fates my other soul will save. 
 
 Lydia. Child of Thurian Ornytus I cherish ; 
 
 Mutual flames to me doth Calais bear. 
 Twice for him will I consent to perish, 
 
 If the Fates my darling boy will spare. 
 
 Horace. What if yet the ancient love returning, 
 
 Eeunite in brazen yoke us twain, 
 If this door, the gold-haired Chloe spurning, 
 
 Welcome cast-off Lydia once again ? 
 
 Lydia. He is fairer than a star in heaven, 
 Thou more fierce than Adria's restive sea, 
 
 Light as cork — yet, oh, since choice is given, 
 Let me live and love and die with thee ! 
 
 — Translation of Philip Stanhope Worslet. 
 
238 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 TO NEOBULE. 
 
 Ode XII., Book III. 
 
 Unhappy the maidens forbidden to prove 
 The bumper's full joy, or the raptures of love ; 
 Unhappy the girls, who are destined to hear 
 The tedious rebukes of old uncles severe. 
 
 Cytheraea's winged son now bids thee resign 
 The toils of Minerva, the spinster divine ; 
 For now, Neobule, with other desires 
 The brightness of Hebrus thy bosom inspires ; 
 When he rises with vigour from Tiber's rough waves, 
 Where the oil of his labours athletic he laves, 
 Like Bellerophon skilful to rein the fierce steed, 
 At cuffs never conquered, nor outstripped in speed, 
 And dextrous with darts never flying in vain, 
 To wound the light stag, bounding over the plain, 
 Or active and valiant the boar to surprise, 
 Transfixt with his spear, as in covert he lies. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Francis. 
 
 TO THE FOUNTAIN BANDUSIA. 
 Ode XIII, Book III. 
 
 font ! with fair unruffled face, 
 More clear than crystal and more bright than glass ; 
 
 To thee my only bowl shall pour 
 The sweet libation crowned with many a flower. 
 
 To thee a sportive kid shall bleed, 
 Proud of the spreading honours of his head ; 
 
 Who meditates the angry shock, 
 For some first love the fairest of the flock. 
 
 In vain ! for Venus will not save — 
 His youthful blood shall tinge thy azure wave. 
 
 Not Phoebus, with his summer beams, 
 Can penetrate thy shade, and gild thy streams ; 
 
 But ever from the dog-star's heat 
 The wearied herds require thy green retreat. 
 
TO MAECENAS. 239 
 
 Let other bards their fountains sing, 
 A bard shall love and celebrate thy spring, 
 
 The secret shelter of thy wood, 
 And bubbling rills that fall into thy flood, 
 
 — Translation of John Cam Hobhouse. 
 
 TO MAECENAS. 
 Ode XVI., Book III. 
 
 Long in her tower had languished Danae, 
 Fast caged by massive heavy-bolted doors, 
 And guarded safe by savage-baying hounds 
 From midnight lovers' vows : 
 
 But Jupiter and Venus laughed to scorn 
 The anxious jailer of the hidden maid, 
 Acrisius, — for the quest would easy prove 
 To gold-disguised god. 
 
 Through armed guards gold loves to thread its way, 
 And stronger than the thunder-bolt, break through 
 Thick walls of rock. The Argive augur's house 
 For love of lucre fell, 
 
 In ruin plunged ; the man of Macedon 
 Cleft city-gates and undermined the power 
 Of rival thrones with bribes : and bribes will buy 
 The navy's doughty lords. 
 
 Care follows growing wealth, and in its tracks 
 Comes thirst for greater things ; hence have I shrunk 
 From lifting high my head above the throng, 
 Maecenas, flower of knights. 
 
 The more that man shall manfully forego, 
 The more the gods shall give. Naked I seek 
 The camp of the contented, and with joy 
 Desert the ranks of wealth. 
 
240 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 More glorious as the lord of things despised 
 Than if within my granaries lay the crops 
 For which the Apulian toils with plough and scythe, 
 Mid wide possessions, poor. 
 
 A limpid stream, a narrow strip of woods, 
 And my unshaken hope of ripening grain, 
 To him who shines with sunny Afric's crown 
 Seem not a fairer lot. 
 
 Though not for me Calabrian bees hive sweets, 
 Nor wine grows mellow in its Eormian jars, 
 Nor flocks for me graze in the Gallic meads, 
 With ever-thickening fleece, 
 
 Prom poverty's insistence am I free, — 
 Nor, did I long for more, wouldst thou deny. 
 Better can I by limited desires 
 Extend my scanty means, 
 
 Than if I added to Alyattes' realm 
 
 The Phrygian fields, who yearns for much lacks much, 
 
 Blessed is he to whom, with sparing hand, 
 
 God giveth just enough. 
 
 — Translation of Margaret Foster Herrick. 
 
 AGAINST AVABICE AND LUXURY. 
 
 Ode XVIII., Book III. 
 
 No walls with ivory inlaid 
 Adorn my house ; no colonnade 
 Proudly supports my citron beams, 
 Nor rich with gold my ceiling flames ; 
 Nor have I, like an heir unknown, 
 Seized upon Attalus's throne ; 
 Nor dames, to happier fortunes bred, 
 Draw down for me the purple thread ; 
 Yet with a firm and honest heart, 
 Unknowing or of fraud or art, 
 
AGAINST AVARICE AND LUXURY. 241 
 
 With liberal vein of genius blessed, 
 I 'in by the rich and great caressed. 
 My patron's gift, my Sabine field, 
 Shall all its rural plenty yield ; 
 And happy in that rural store, 
 Of Heaven and him I ask no more. 
 
 Day presses on the heels of day, 
 And moons increase to their decay ; 
 But you, with thoughtless pride elate, 
 Unconscious of impending fate, 
 Command the pillared dome to rise, 
 "When, lo ! thy tomb forgotten lies ; 
 And, though the waves indignant roar, 
 Forward you urge the Baian shore ; 
 While earth's too narrow bounds in vain 
 Your guilty progress would restrain, 
 The sacred landmark strives in vain 
 Your impious avarice to restrain : 
 You break into your neighbour's grounds, 
 And overleap your client's bounds. 
 Driven out by thee, to new abodes 
 They carry their paternal gods ; 
 The wife her husband's sorrow shares, 
 And on her breast her squalid infant bears. 
 
 Yet destined by unerring fate, 
 Shall death this wealthy lord await : 
 Then whither tend thy wide domains ? 
 For Earth impartial entertains 
 Her various sons, and in her breast 
 Princes and beggars equal rest. 
 
 Nor gold could bribe, nor art deceive 
 The gloomy life-guard of the grave, 
 Backward to tread the shadowy way, 
 And waft Prometheus into day. 
 Yet he, who Tantalus detains, 
 With all his haughty race in chains, 
 Invoked or not, the wretch receives, 
 And from the toils of life relieves. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Francis. 
 
242 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 TO DIANA. 
 
 Ode XXIX, Book in. 
 
 Chaste goddess of the radiant night 
 Who lov'st the airy mountain's height 
 
 And guard' st the sylvan bower ; 
 Who thrice invoked with pious prayers 
 Reliev'st the teeming matron's cares 
 
 Saved by thy triple power : 
 Accept this vow ! henceforth the pine 
 That shades my humble roof is thine ; 
 
 Where, menacing the sight 
 Slain by my hand a boar shall stain 
 Each year, thy consecrated fane, 
 
 On this returning light. 
 
 — Translation of "William Boscawen. 
 
 TO MELPOMENE. 
 
 Ode XXX., Book HI. 
 
 More durable than brass, in height 
 
 Surpassing far the regal site 
 
 Of pyramids, I've raised a tower 
 
 That shall defy the cankering shower, 
 
 Nor northern blast, nor lapse of time 
 
 Shall mar the beauties of its prime. 
 
 I shall not wholly die, for still shall live 
 
 My better part for aye, to give 
 
 Freshness and vigour to the praise 
 
 That I shall reap in after days. 
 
 Long as the priest the Capitol ascends, 
 
 And her chaste steps the silent vestal bends : 
 
 Famous, though sprung of lowly birth, 
 
 O'er thirsty Daunus' sterile earth ; 
 
 Where Aufidus' hoarse waves resound, 
 
 There shall my name with fame be crowned 
 
 As the first poet who had sung 
 
 jEolian verse in Latin tongue. 
 
 Melpomene! usurp thy sway, 
 
 My temples wreathe with Delphic bay. 
 
 — Translation of Herbert Grant. 
 
TO TORQUATUS. 243 
 
 TO TORQUATUS. 
 Ode VII., Book IV. 
 
 The snows are past away, the field renews 
 
 Its grassy robe, the trees with leaves are crowned ; 
 
 All nature feels a change ; the streams unloose 
 Their bands of ice, and bathe the meads around ; 
 
 The sister Graces with the Nymphs advance 
 
 In light attire, weaving the joyous dance. 
 
 Warned by the varying year and hastening day, 
 Expect not thou, my friend, immortal joys : 
 
 Spring's zephyr melts the winter's frost away, 
 And spring the summer's hotter breath destroys, 
 
 Soon forced to wait on autumn's mellow train, 
 
 Till cold and sluggish winter rules again. 
 
 The seasons' difference rolling moons repair ■ 
 But we, if once to that sad shore conveyed 
 
 Where the great manes of our fathers are, 
 Shall be but empty ashes and a shade. 
 
 Who knows if they that rule this mortal clime 
 
 Will add to-morrow to our sum of time ? 
 
 Thy generous soul can best improve the hours 
 Of the short life allowed by partial Heaven ; 
 
 Yet thee, Torquatus, in those gloomy bowers 
 Where Minos' last tremendous doom is given, 
 
 Not all thy pride of honourable birth, 
 
 Nor wit, nor virtue, can restore to earth ! 
 
 Not e'en the huntress of the silver bow. 
 
 Who made the chaste Hippolytus her care, 
 Could bring his spirit from the realms below : 
 
 Nor Theseus armed with force immortal tear 
 His loved Perithous from the triple chain 
 That bound his soul to that infernal plain. 
 
 — Translation of John Herman Merivale. 
 
244 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 TO CENSOKINUS. 
 
 Ode VIII. , Book IV. 
 
 With liberal heart to every friend 
 A bowl or caldron would I send ; 
 Or tripods, which, the Grecians gave, 
 As rich rewards, to heroes brave ; 
 Nor should the meanest gift be thine, 
 If the rich works of art were mine, 
 By Scopas, or Parrhasius wrought, 
 With animating skill who taught 
 The shapeless stone with life to glow, 
 Or bade the breathing colours flow, 
 To imitate, in every line, 
 The form or human or divine. 
 
 But I nor boast the curious store, 
 And you nor want, nor wish for more ; 
 'T is yours the joys of verse to know, 
 Such joys as Horace can bestow, 
 While I can vouch my present's worth, 
 And call its every virtue forth. 
 
 Nor columns, which the public raise, 
 Engraved with monumental praise, 
 By which the breath of life returns 
 To heroes, sleeping in their urns : 
 Nor Hannibal, when swift he fled, 
 His threats retorted on his head ; 
 Nor impious Carthage wrapt in flame, 
 From whence great Scipio gained a name, 
 Such glories round him could diffuse 
 As the Calabrian poet's muse ; 
 And should the bard his aid deny, 
 Thy worth shall unrewarded die. 
 
 Had envious silence left unsung 
 The child from Mars and Ilia sprung, 
 How had we known the hero's fame, 
 From whom the Roman empire came ? 
 The poet's favour, "voice and lays, 
 Could J^acus from darkness raise, 
 Snatcht from the Stygian gulfs of hell, 
 Among the blissful isles to dwell. 
 
TO MARCUS LOLLIUS. 245 
 
 The Muse forbids the brave to die, 
 The Muse enthrones him in the sky ; 
 Alcides, thus, in heaven is placed, 
 And shares with Jove the immortal feast ; 
 Thus the twin-stars have power to save 
 The shattered vessel from the wave, 
 And vine-crowned Bacchus with success 
 His jovial votaries can bless. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Francis. 
 
 TO MAKCUS LOLLIUS. 
 Ode IX., Book IV. 
 
 Think not those strains can e'er expire, 
 
 Which, cradled mid the echoing roar 
 Of Aufidus, to Latium's lyre 
 
 I sing with arts unknown before. 
 Though Homer fill the foremost throiie, 
 
 Yet grave Stesichorus still can please, 
 And fierce Alcseus holds his own 
 
 With Pindar and Simonides. 
 The songs of Teos are not mute, 
 
 And Sappho's love is breathing still : 
 She told her secret to the lute, 
 
 And yet its chords with passion thrill. 
 Not Sparta's queen alone was fired 
 
 By broidered robe and braided tress, 
 And all the splendours that attired 
 
 Her lover's guilty loveliness : 
 Not only Teucer to the field 
 
 His arrows brought, nor Ilion 
 Beneath a single conqueror reeled : 
 
 Not Crete's majestic lord alone, 
 Or Sthenelus, earned the Muses' crown : 
 
 Not Hector first for child and wife, 
 Or brave Deiphobus, laid down 
 
 The burden of a manly life. 
 Before Atrides men were brave : 
 
 But ah ! oblivion, dark and long, 
 Has lockt them in a tearless grave, 
 
 For lack of consecrating song. 
 
246 QUINTUS H0RAT1US FLACCUS. 
 
 'Twixt worth, and baseness, lapt in death, 
 
 What difference ? You shall ne'er be dumb, 
 While strains of mine have voice and breath : 
 
 The dull neglect of days to come 
 Those hard-won honours shall not blight : 
 
 No, Lollius, no : a soul is yours, 
 Clear-sighted, keen, alike upright 
 
 When fortune smiles, and when she lowers : 
 To greed and rapine still severe, 
 
 Spurning the gain men find so sweet : 
 A consul, not of one brief year, 
 
 But oft as on the judgment-seat 
 You bend the expedient to the right, 
 
 Turn haughty eyes from bribes away, 
 Or bear your banners through the fight, 
 
 Scattering the foeman's firm array. 
 The lord of boundless revenues, 
 
 Salute not him as happy : no, 
 Call him the happy, who can use 
 
 The bounty that the gods bestow, 
 Can bear the load of poverty, 
 
 And tremble not at death, but sin : 
 No recreant he when called to die 
 
 In cause of country or of kin. 
 
 — Translation of John Conington. 
 
 THE SECULAR ODE. 
 
 TO APOLLO AND DIANA. 
 
 Phoebus, and thou, Diana, sylvan Power ! 
 Blest pair — revered, and still to be revered — 
 Bright gems of ether ! grant the suit preferred 
 At this fixed hour 
 
 Of hallowed joy, when (as the Sibyl's lays 
 Ordained) chaste Youths and Virgins to the Powers 
 That guard the city and her seven-hilled towers 
 Pour songs of praise ! 
 
THE SECULAR ODE. 247 
 
 Thou genial Sun ! whose orb in heaven's high dome 
 Reveals and shrouds the day — still rising new 
 And still the same — may nothing meet thy view, 
 Greater than Rome ! 
 
 And thou, Lucina ! lenient to disclose 
 
 The ripened birth — whatever name best please 
 
 Thine ear — Natalis ! Ilithyia! — ease 
 
 Our matron's throes! 
 
 Grant large increase, and speed the Senate's cause, 
 Who strengthen (studious of their country's good) 
 Pure wedlock's bands, and to recruit her brood 
 Stamp nuptial laws : 
 
 That oft as years, to decades full eleven 
 Revolving, shall renew with solemn rite 
 This Jubilee, glad anthems day and night 
 May rise to heaven. 
 
 And you, whose verdict, once declared, stands fast, 
 Linked in Necessity's eternal chain, 
 Ye Destinies ! with future blessings deign 
 To crown the past ! 
 
 May Earth, boon parent, rich in flocks and fruit, 
 Grace Ceres with a wreath of golden ears 
 While the soft shower and gale salubrious rears 
 Each budding shoot ! 
 
 Placid and mild, thy shafts of vengeance sheathed, 
 Hear thou the Youths, majestic Lord of light ! 
 Hear thou the prayer, bicorned Queen of night, 
 By Virgins breathed ! 
 
 Blest twain ! if Rome from you derived her birth ; — . 
 
 If hither, led by you, the Trojan bands 
 
 Urged a safe course, what time for distant lands 
 
 They changed their hearth ; 
 
 To whom, unscathed, through Ilium wrapt in flame, 
 The brave survivor of the land he lost 
 Oped a free path, to found on Latium's coast 
 A nobler name : 
 
248 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 Grant to our docile youth each virtuous grace ! 
 To weary veterans grant serene repose ! 
 Grant health, wealth, issue, all that Heaven bestows 
 To Rome's whole race ! 
 
 And may the Prince, who at your shrine bids flow 
 The milk-white heifer's blood, Anchises' heir, 
 Long rule, to crush the rebel and to spare 
 The prostrate foe ! 
 
 The Mede, now quelled by land as on the wave, 
 Has to our arms and Alban Axes bowed ; 
 The Scythian hordes, and Indian (late so proud) 
 Our mercy crave. 
 
 Truth, Honour, generous Shame (repelled with scorn), 
 Mild Peace, and Virtue that to heaven had flown, 
 Dare to return, and Plenty hastes to crown 
 Her brimming Horn. 
 
 Be sure, the golden-quivered God, who sees 
 Pate's awful mysteries, whom the warbling Nine 
 Hail as their leader, and whose arts benign 
 Assuage disease, 
 
 Will, if he smile on his own sacred towers, 
 Prolong the Roman weal and Latium's bliss 
 Prom age to age, and still improve from this 
 To happier hours : 
 
 Nor less will She, so long on Aventine 
 And Algidus enshrined, her votaries now 
 Propitious heed, and to our youthful vow 
 Kind ears incline. 
 
 We, then, the band who jointly tune their praise, 
 Bear home a sure and cheering hope, that Jove 
 Lists and approves, with all the Host above, 
 
 These choral lays. 
 
 — Translation of Canon Howes. 
 
TOWN LIFE AND COUNTRY LIFE. 249 
 
 TOWN LIFE AND COUNTKY LIFE. 
 
 "The Satires." 
 
 I felt a wish for one small lot 
 Of meadow land, a garden plot, 
 Beside a clump of wood, and near 
 My door a rivulet running clear. 
 This sum of all imagined bliss 
 The Gods have given, and more than this. 
 Enough ; if, Hermes ! thou consign 
 The boon, for life to call them mine ! 
 If ne'er I sought to make my store 
 Though scant, by means dishonest, more ; 
 Nor shrank the little I possess 
 By careless thrift or loose excess : 
 If ne'er to heaven I bend my knees 
 With fond petitions, such as these : — 
 " Oh, that the owner would but yield 
 That nook which so misshapes my field ! " 
 " Oh, that my clinking plough had found 
 A pot of silver under ground ; 
 Like him, who with the treasure bought 
 The field in which for hire he wrought; 
 At one kind hit, to wealth and ease 
 Lifted, by help of Hercules." 
 If pleased and grateful for my lot, 
 This, Mercury, deny me not : 
 May cattle thrive on my domains, 
 And all be fat — except my brains ! 
 And still, as usual, deign to guard 
 Your most devoted slave and bard. 
 When out of town I haste to dwell 
 Snug in my mountain citadel ; 
 What better pastime can I choose 
 Than satire and the prose-like Muse ? 
 No visits pester me to death ; 
 No flagging winds weigh down my breath ; 
 No sickly Autumn agues give, 
 Whence crabbed undertakers live. 
 Father of Morn ! or Janus, hear ! 
 .Whichever name may catch thine ear; 
 Since 't is the will of God, that all 
 
250 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 On thy protection duly call, 
 
 Who take in hand some weighty matter, 
 
 From thee will I begin my satire. 
 
 Bail for a friend yon bid me fly 
 
 To Borne, i' th' twinkling of an eye ; 
 
 " Use your best speed and mend your pace ; 
 
 Some other else will take your place." 
 
 Whether the sweeping North-wind blow, 
 
 Or Winter dim the air with snow, 
 
 And shrink the daylight in a span, 
 
 I needs must hurry, as I can. 
 
 In court I hasten to appear, 
 
 Where terms of law precise and clear, 
 
 Bind, to my cost, whate'er I say ; 
 
 Tost in the crowd I squeeze my way, 
 
 And jostle those that sluggish move ; 
 
 "How now? " or "Whither would you shove, 
 
 Mad-pated fool ? " some waspish wight • 
 
 Bawls with a curse ; and then, in spite, 
 
 " When to Maecenas post you ride, 
 
 You care not whom you push aside ! " 
 
 Now this I like ; to own the truth, 
 
 It is as honey to my tooth. 
 
 When to the Esquilian palace come, 
 
 The gloomy burial-place of Rome, 
 
 A hundred people's matters din 
 
 My tingling ears and hem me in ! 
 
 " My master Eoscius begs you '11 lend 
 
 His cause assistance, and attend 
 
 The Court of Common Pleas ere eight 
 
 To-morrow " — " The committee wait 
 
 Your presence on some state affair ; 
 
 And hope you'll to the board repair" — 
 
 " Persuade Maecenas, Sir, I pray 
 
 To seal these papers " — If I say 
 
 " I '11 try : " he hangs and teases still 
 
 With a — " You can, Sir, if you will." 
 
 Seven years or nearer eight have flown 
 
 Since to Maecenas I was known. 
 
 Not for such purposes and ends 
 
 He ranked me with his humble friends. 
 
 But, to be seated at his side, 
 
 When in his chariot he would ride 
 
TOWN LIFE AND COUNTRY LIFE. 251 
 
 Abroad for air ; as one whom just 
 
 With chit-chat trifles he would trust. 
 
 As " What 's o'clock ? " as wagers ran, 
 
 " Which gladiator 's the better man ? " 
 
 " This is a nipping morning wind 
 
 For those who leave their cloaks behind." 
 
 Such secrets as, for aught appears, 
 
 May safely drop in chinky ears. 
 
 Yet every day and every hour, 
 
 I 'm envied for my fancied power. 
 
 " Our old acquaintance near him sat 
 
 In the amphitheatre ; mark that." 
 
 " They played together in the ring " — 
 
 " Fortune's spoilt child " 's the tune they sing. 
 
 Some vapouring news about the street 
 
 Is cried ; and every fool I meet 
 
 Refers to me : " Good Sir ! relate — 
 
 For you must know, that haunt the great — 
 
 What of the Dacians ? Have you heard 
 
 Some hostile tidings ? " Not a word. — 
 
 " Ah ! how you dearly love to jest." 
 
 By all that 's sacred, I protest 
 
 It is a secret still, to me ! — 
 
 " Then tell us, will Augustus fee 
 
 With Latian farms the veteran bands, 
 
 Or quarter on Sicilian lands ?" 
 
 And, when most solemnly I swear 
 
 I 'm in the dark, they wink and stare ; 
 
 Of all queer mortals ever known, 
 
 For close reserve I stand alone. 
 
 My day of life exhausted flies 
 
 Amidst these petty miseries. 
 
 Yet oft my lips the wish repeat : 
 
 When shall I view my country-seat ? 
 
 And books and sleep and leisure drown 
 
 In sweet f orgetfulness the town ? 
 
 When shall Pythagoras' relations, 
 
 Fresh-gathered beans, supply my rations ? 
 
 And cabbage, from my garden soil, 
 
 On bacon served and dript with oil ? 
 
 Oh, suppers ! and oh, nights divine ! 
 
 When snug at home, both I and mine 
 
 Regale ; and of the broken meat 
 
252 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. 
 
 My saucy slaves contented eat. 
 
 No senseless rules ; we fill, at pleasure, 
 
 In goblets of unequal measure ; 
 
 Whether more strong of head, my guest 
 
 In ample cup delights him best, 
 
 Or sips the glass of moderate size 
 
 And in his merriment is wise. 
 
 The conversation circles free 
 
 In this our cheered sobriety. 
 
 'T is not, if such a person own 
 
 A country house or house in town ; 
 
 "Not yet ! if such a dancer show 
 
 An elasticity of toe : 
 
 But what concerns our bosoms nigh 
 
 Where ignorance were injury : 
 
 If bliss on wealth or worth depend ; 
 
 If truth or interest fix a friend ; 
 
 If the essential good we know 
 
 And what the sum of good below. 
 
 While these grave matters we pursue, 
 
 My neighbour Servius takes his cue, 
 
 And chimes in with some old wife's fable ; 
 
 Thus, if some simpleton at table 
 
 Praise rich Arellius' large estate, 
 
 Our friend runs on in moral prate : 
 
 Once on a time, as stories tell, 
 
 A country mouse, in homely cell, 
 
 Received an old friend bred in town ; 
 
 Our host was thrifty, a mere clown; 
 
 Yet on the occasion did his best, 
 
 Opening his heart to treat his guest. 
 
 And, to be short, he freely fetches 
 
 His long-eared oats and hoarded vetches ; 
 
 And, hospitable, 'twixt his chaps 
 
 Brings shrivelled grapes and bacon scraps, 
 
 Hoping with many a tempting bit 
 
 The stranger's squeamish taste to hit ; 
 
 Who pickt with dainty tooth, and sat 
 
 Fribbling, at whiles, with this and that. 
 
 While my good host on this year's straw 
 
 With corn and tares amused his maw, 
 
 Leaving the dainties to his guest. 
 
 The cit, at length, the clown addrest : 
 
TOWN LIFE AND COUNTRY LIFE. 253 
 
 " Old friend ! what pleasure can you find 
 In this dull, patient life, behind 
 A shaggy thicket ? would you see 
 The town and men's society ? 
 Come — trust me ! — leave this savage wood j 
 A jaunt aroad will do you good ! 
 Since mice have mortal lives, and all 
 Must die at last, both great and small ; 
 Live, my good friend, and take your sport ; 
 Live, and remember life is short." 
 This logic shook the country mouse ; 
 He leapt full nimbly from his house ; 
 Both trudged along, in hope to crawl 
 At night beneath the city wall. 
 Night, now the middle sky possest, 
 When they with tiny footsteps prest 
 A sumptuous mansion's spacious floor, 
 Where ivory couches, covered o'er 
 With crimson draperies, gorgeous glowed, 
 Of viands a luxurious load, 
 Saved from a feast of yesternight 
 High-heapt in baskets, caught the sight. 
 The bumpkin, placed in formal state 
 On purple cushion, lolled and ate. 
 My host ran bustling up and down, 
 Like a smart slave with tuckt-up gown ; 
 Served dish on dish in course complete j 
 With entremets prolonged the treat ; 
 And played the taster with the meat. 
 The rustic hugged his change of lot ; 
 And, stretcht at ease, his tares forgot. 
 Midst the good cheer he did his best, 
 And acted, frank, the jolly guest. 
 When open bursts the clanging door ; 
 Shook from their seats, they scour the floor, 
 Half -dead with panic : — mastiffs roar ; 
 And the high-vaulted ceilings round 
 Ring hollow to the bellowing sound. 
 Then quoth the rustic : — " Friend, adieu. 
 This same town-life may suit with you ; 
 My den and wood are safe from snares ; 
 There will be comfort in my tares." 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
ALBIUS TIBULLUS. 
 
 Tibullus, whose brief life is conjectured to have 
 fallen between 54 and 18 b.c., was probably, like Cicero, 
 of equestrian birth. Nothing is known of his youth or 
 education ; but his ancestral estates, situated at Pedum, 
 about eighteen miles from Kome, and not far from 
 Tibur and Praeneste, were confiscated during the civil 
 wars. Like Vergil and Horace, however, he seems to 
 have come into possession of sufficient share of the 
 property of his fathers to afford him a comfortable sub- 
 sistence. He was a friend of the great patron of art and 
 literature, Messala, and accompanied him to Aquitania in 
 31, and was present at the battle of Atax which broke 
 the Aquitanian rebellion. The following year he started 
 with Messala for the East, but his health gave out and he 
 returned to E,ome, where, and at his farm, he spent the 
 rest of his days. He was closely associated with Horace 
 and Ovid. He wrote delightful elegies, but only one 
 book of them was published during his lifetime. In six 
 of these were celebrated the charms and cruelties of 
 "Delia." He had loved her before he left Some, but 
 she had proved faithless. But on his return from 
 Corcyra, after leaving Messala, he had found her ill, and 
 he forgave her, and attended her affectionately, evidently 
 hoping to persuade her to accompany him to Tibur. 
 When a richer lover and then a husband broke off this 
 attachment, Tibullus found consolation in a new mis- 
 tress, who bore the significant name of Nemesis. The 
 odes of Horace seem to indicate that there was still a 
 third divinity, named Glycera, who, in spite of her name, 
 was not sweet to him. Horace, in an epistle to Tibullus, 
 gives us a very captivating picture of Tibullus's character. 
 He says : — 
 
 " Thou wert not born a body void of mind : 
 Yet Heaven to thee a graceful form assigned. 
 Heaven gave thee riches, and it gave thee more : 
 The art to use and to enjoy thy store. 
 254 
 
A PASTORAL ELEGY. 255 
 
 What beyond this could some fond nurse devise 
 To bless her foster-son ? whose thoughts are wise, 
 And graced with fluent speech ; whom favours crown 
 From the high great, and, from his Muse renown ; 
 Abundant health ; a style of life and board 
 Genteel with decency, and purse well-stored." 
 
 He possessed all of the blessings of life — fortune, favour 
 with the great, fame, a remarkable gift of genuine 
 poesy, and perfect purity of taste. He was a conservative, 
 attached to old customs, gentle and genial, a passionate 
 lover of woman and nature. A second volume of his 
 elegies was published after his death. Still a third book, 
 sometimes published under his name, is attributed to an 
 inferior poet named Lygdamus, who may have been a 
 friend of his. A fourth book is made up of poems by 
 different hands, some of which may have been Tibullus's. 
 
 A PASTORAL ELEGY. 
 
 Let others pile their yellow ingots high, 
 
 And see their cultured acres round them spread ; 
 
 While hostile borderers draw their anxious eye, 
 And at the trumpet's blast their sleep is fled ! 
 
 Me let my poverty to ease resign ; 
 
 While my bright hearth reflects its blazing cheer; 
 In season let me plant the pliant vine, 
 
 And, with light hand, my swelling apples rear ! 
 
 Hope, fail not thou ! let earth her fruitage yield ; 
 
 Let the brimmed vat flow red with virgin wine : 
 Eor, still, some lone bare stump that marks the field, 
 
 Or antique cross-way stone, with flowers I twine, 
 
 In pious rite ; and, when the year anew 
 Matures the blossom on the budding spray ; 
 
 I bear the peasant's God his grateful due ; 
 And firstling fruits upon his altar lay. 
 
 Still let thy temple's porch, Ceres ! wear 
 The spiky garland from my harvest field ; 
 
 And, midst my orchard, against the birds of air, 
 His threatening hook let red Priapus wield ! 
 
256 ALBIUS TIBULLUS. 
 
 Ye too, once guardians of a rich domain, 
 
 Now of poor fields, domestic Gods ! be kind ! 
 
 Then, for unnumbered herds, a calf was slain ; 
 Now to your altars is a lamb consigned ! 
 
 The mighty victim of a scanty soil, 
 
 A lamb alone shall bleed before your shrine ; 
 
 While round it shout the youthful sons of toil, 
 
 " Hail ! grant the harvest ! grant the generous wine ! " 
 
 Content with little, I no more would tread 
 
 The lengthening road, but shun the Summer day, 
 
 Where some o'erbranching tree might shade my head ; 
 And watch the murmuring rivulet glide away. 
 
 Nor could I blush to wield the rustic prong, 
 The lingering oxen goad ; or some stray lamb, 
 
 Embosomed in my garment, bear along, 
 Or kid forgotten by its heedless dam. 
 
 Spare my small flocks ! ye thieves, and wolves, assail 
 The wealthier cotes, that ampler booty hold ; 
 
 Ne'er for my shepherd due lustrations fail ; 
 I soothe with milk the Goddess of the fold. 
 
 Be present, Deities ! nor gifts disdain 
 
 From homely board ; nor cups with scorn survey, 
 
 Earthen, yet pure ; for such the ancient swain 
 Formed for himself and shaped of ductile clay. 
 
 I envy not my sires their golden heap ; 
 
 Their garners' floors with sheaf y corn bespread ; 
 Few sheaves suffice : enough, in easy sleep 
 
 To lay my limbs upon the accustomed bed. 
 
 How sweet ! to hear, without, the howling blast, 
 And strain a yielding mistress to my breast ! 
 
 Or, when the gusty torrent's rush has past, 
 Sink, lulled by beating rains, to sheltered rest ! 
 
 Be this my lot ; be his the imenvied store, 
 
 Who the drear storm endures and raging seas ; 
 
 Ah ! perish emeralds and the golden ore, 
 
 If the fond anxious nymph must weep for me. 
 
A PASTORAL ELEGY. 257 
 
 Messala ! range the earth and main, that Rome 
 May shine with trophies of the foes that fell ; 
 
 But me a beauteous nymph enchains at home, 
 At her hard door a sleepless sentinel. 
 
 I heed not praise, my Delia ! while with thee ; 
 
 Sloth brand my name, so I thy sight behold ; 
 Let me the oxen yoke ; oh, come with me ! 
 
 On desert mountains I will feed my fold. 
 
 And, while I prest thee in my tender arms, 
 Sweet were my slumber on the ragged ground ; 
 
 What boots the purple couch, if cruel charms 
 
 In wakeful tears the midnight hours have drowned ? 
 
 Not the soft plume can yield the limbs repose, 
 Nor yet the broidered covering soothe to sleep ; 
 
 Not the calm streamlet that in murmurs flows, 
 With sound oblivious o'er the eyelids creep. 
 
 Iron is he who might thy form possess, 
 
 Yet flies to arms and thirsts for plunder's gains ; 
 
 What though his spear Cicilian squadrons press, 
 
 What though his tent be pitcht on conquered plains ; 
 
 In gold and silver mail conspicuous he 
 
 May stride the steed, that, pawing spurns the sand ; 
 May I my last looks fondly bend on thee, 
 
 And grasp thee with my dying, faltering hand I 
 
 And thou wilt weep when, cold, I press the bier, 
 That soon shall on the flaming pyre be thrown ; 
 
 And print the kiss and mingle many a tear ; 
 Not thine a breast of steel, a heart of stone. 
 
 Yes, thou wilt weep ! No youths shall thence return 
 With tearless eye ; no virgin homeward wend ; 
 
 But thou forbear to violate my urn, 
 
 Spare thy soft cheeks, nor those loose tresses rend. 
 
 Now Fate permits ; now blend the sweet embrace ; 
 
 Death, cowled in darkness, creeps with stealing tread ; 
 111 suits with sluggish age love's sprightly grace, 
 
 And murmured fondness with a hoary head ! 
 
258 ALBIUS TIBULLUS. 
 
 The light amour be mine ; the shivered door ; 
 
 The midnight fray ; ye trumps and standards, hence t 
 Here is my camp ; bleed they who thirst for ore : 
 
 Wealth I despise in easy competence. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton» 
 
 ELEGY TO DELIA. 
 
 Oh ! I was harsh to say that I could part 
 From thee ; but, Delia, I am bold no more. 
 
 Driven like a top, which boys with ready art 
 Keep spinning round upon a level floor. 
 
 Burn, lash me, love, if ever after this 
 By me one cruel blustering word is said ; 
 
 Yet spare, I pray thee, by our stolen bliss, 
 By mighty Venus and thy comely head. 
 
 When thou didst lie, by fell disease o'erpowered, 
 I rescued thee, by prayers, from Death's domain ; 
 
 Pure sulfur's cleansing fumes I round thee showered, 
 While an enchantress sung a magic strain. 
 
 Yes, and another now enjoys the prize, 
 
 And reaps the fruit of all my vows for thee : 
 
 Foolish, I dreamed of life 'neath golden skies, 
 
 Wert thou but saved — not such great Heaven's decree t 
 
 I said I '11 till my fields ; she '11 guard my store 
 When crops are thresh t in Autumn's burning heat ; 
 
 She '11 keep my grapes in baskets brimming o'er, 
 And my rich must exprest by nimble feet. 
 
 She '11 count my flock ; some home-born slave of mine 
 Will prattle in my darling's lap and play : 
 
 To rural God ripe clusters for the vine, 
 
 Sheaves for my crops, eates for my fold, she '11 pay. 
 
ELEGY TO DELIA. 259 
 
 Slaves — all shall own her undisputed rule ; 
 
 Myself a cipher — how the thought would please ! 
 Here will Messala come, for whom she'll pull 
 
 The sweetest apples from the choicest trees. 
 
 And honouring one so great, for him prepare 
 
 And serve the banquet with her own white hands. 
 
 Pond dream ! which now the East and South wind bear 
 Away to far Armenia's spicy lands. 
 
 — Translation of James Cranstoun. 
 
SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS. 
 
 Propertius was born about half a century before Christ, 
 in upper Italy, near the sources of the Clitumnus River. 
 He causes the Seer to say : — 
 
 " Old Umbria gave thee birth — a spot renowned — 
 Say, am I right ? is that thy native ground ? — 
 Where, dewy- moist, lie low Mevania's plains, 
 Where steams the Umbrian lake with summer rains, 
 Where towers the wall o'er steep Asisium's hill, 
 A wall thy genius shall make nobler still." 
 
 His father was a knight who had joined the party of 
 Lucius Antonius, and after the capture of Perusium by 
 Octavius undoubtedly suffered the confiscation of his 
 property. Though he became a very learned man, his 
 learning unfavourably affecting his poetry, as was the 
 case with Milton, he seems to have been deprived of early 
 opportunities of careful training and was obliged to post- 
 pone till later in life — if indeed he ever enjoyed them — 
 the academic advantages of Athens. He prepared for 
 the Roman bar, but was easily diverted from the law to 
 poetry. His first patron was Volcatius Tullus, a wealthy 
 young man of his own age. Later he was taken into the 
 literary circle which Maecenas gathered about him. As a 
 poet he called himself the pupil of the Coan Philetas, 
 and it was his ambition to be regarded as the Roman Cal- 
 limachus. Hence he was inclined to overload his verses 
 with Greek myths and obscure classical allusions. This 
 was a fault which the purer taste of Tibullus avoided. 
 When Propertius was twenty-three or four he first became 
 acquainted with the beautiful Hostia, a native of Tibur, and 
 believed to be the granddaughter of the Hostius who wrote 
 a poem on the Histric war. She was herself addicted to 
 verse, was skilled in music, dancing, and fine needle-work. 
 She is celebrated as the Cynthia of the elegies. The passion 
 lasted about five years and was clouded by jealousy and 
 estrangement ; but from the fact that her successor in his 
 
 260 
 
A FESTIVAL DAY. 261 
 
 affections received some of her trinkets, it has been con- 
 jectured that she died under his protecting care. It is 
 supposed that he married, for he left legitimate issue 
 mentioned by Pliny. He lived on the Esquiline not far 
 from the gardens of Maecenas. Here he must have fre- 
 quently met the great poets of his day ; but while he 
 speaks of having heard parts of the iEneid read aloud, 
 he never mentions Horace, Tibullus, or Ovid. Yet Ovid 
 speaks of him in terms of warm affection. Apparently 
 he was urged to drive his Muse to epic ambitions, but he 
 replied : — 
 
 " Enough, with sweet Callimachus to please, 
 And lays like thine, O Coan poet, weave : 
 To thrill the youth and fire the fair with these, 
 Be hailed divine, and homage meet receive." 
 
 And again : — 
 
 "As when we cannot reach the head of statues all too high, 
 We lay a chaplet at the feet, so now perforce do I, 
 Unfit to climb the giddy heights of epic song divine, 
 In humble adoration lay poor incense on thy shrine : 
 For not as yet my Muse hath known the wells of Ascra's grove : 
 Permessus' gentle wave alone hath laved the limbs of Love." 
 
 But in the fifth book of his Elegies he made redactions of 
 some of his earlier poems, and sang of the glories of old 
 Rome with what Dean Merivale calls " a strength and 
 sometimes a grandeur of language which would have 
 been highly relished in the sterner age of Lucretius." 
 These poems may have suggested to Ovid the plan of his 
 "Fasti," or "Annals in Verse." Propertius died early, 
 the date assigned being the year 15. His lack of com- 
 parative popularity is shown by the fact that there are 
 no selections from his works in any of the Latin antholo- 
 gies. But in spite of his obscurities and the difficulties 
 of his learned allusions there is fine poetry in his Elegies. 
 
 A FESTIVAL DAY. 
 
 This festal day let soil and tiller rest ! 
 
 Hang up the share, and give all ploughing o'er ; 
 Unstrap the yokes. Each ox, with chaplets drest, 
 
 Should feed at large a well-filled stall before. 
 
262 SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS. 
 
 See the doomed lamb to blazing altars led, 
 White crowds behind with olive fillets bound ; 
 
 That evil from our borders may be sped, 
 
 Thus, gods of home, we lustrate hind and ground. 
 
 That ye may fend from all mischance the swain, 
 And from our acres banish blight and bale, 
 
 Lest hollow ears should mock our hope of grain, 
 Or 'gainst weak lambs the fleeter wolf prevail. 
 
 Bold in his thriving tilth the farmer then 
 Logs on a blazing hearth shall cheerly pile ; 
 
 And slaves, by whom their master's ease we ken, 
 Frolic, and wattle bowers of twigs the while. 
 
 — Translation of James Davies. 
 
 CAPTURED BY CUPIDS. 
 
 As yesternight, my life ! I roamed the street, 
 
 Flusht with the grape, no slave to guide my feet : 
 
 A tiny multitude of boys drew near : 
 
 I could not count them from my wildering fear. 
 
 Some torches shook ; some brandisht darts in air ; 
 
 Some rattled chains ; their rosy limbs were bare, 
 
 Till one, more petulant in mischief, cried, 
 
 " Seize, bind him ; he is known to us, and tried : 
 
 'T is he, markt out by an offended fair." 
 
 Instant my neck was noosed in knotted snare : 
 
 One shouts to drag me forth ; another cries, 
 
 " Wretch ! if he doubts that we are Gods, he dies. 
 
 For thee, all undeserving as thou art, 
 
 She wakeful counts the hours, that slow depart : 
 
 And all expectant sighs ; while some strange fair 
 
 Attracts thee to her door : we know not where. 
 
 Pond fool ! when, disentangled from her head 
 
 Her nightly turban's purple fillet 's spread, 
 
 As, drooping with moist sleep, she lifts her eyes, 
 
 Such odours from her locks dishevelled rise, 
 
 As ne'er Arabia's breathing balms diffuse ; 
 
 For Love's own hands extract those essenced dews. 
 
LOVE THE WINGED ARCHER. 263 
 
 But spare him, brothers ! the repentant youth 
 Gives his free promise now of amorous truth : 
 And see, we reach the appointed house," he said : 
 Then my stript mantle o'er my shoulders spread, 
 And led me in : " Go now : no longer roam : 
 But learn from this to pass thy nights at home." 
 
 LOVE THE WINGED AKCHER. 
 
 Had he not hands of rare device, whoe'er 
 First painted Love in figure of a boy ? 
 
 He saw what thoughtless beings lovers were, 
 Who blessings lose whilst lightest cares employ. 
 
 Nor added he those airy wings in vain, 
 
 And bade through human hearts the godhead fly ; 
 
 For we are tost upon a wavering main ; 
 Our gale, inconstant, veers around the sky. 
 
 Nor, without cause, he grasps those barbed darts, 
 The Cretan quiver o'er his shoulder cast ; 
 
 Ere we suspect a foe, he strikes our hearts ; 
 And those inflicted wounds for ever last. 
 
 In me are fixt those arrows — in my breast ; 
 
 But sure his wings are shorn, the boy remains ; 
 For never takes he flight, nor knows he rest ; 
 
 Still, still I feel him warring through my veins. 
 
 In these scorcht vitals dost thou joy to dwell ? 
 
 Oh shame ! to others let thy arrows flee ; 
 Let veins untoucht with all thy venom swell ; 
 
 Not me thou torturest, but the shade of me. 
 
 Destroy me — who shall then describe the fair ? 
 
 This my light Muse to thee high glory brings : 
 When the nymphs' tapering ringers, flowing hair, 
 
 And eyes of jet, and gliding feet, she sings. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
264 SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS. 
 
 TO TULLUS. 
 
 THE STINGS OF LOVE. 
 
 Cynthia's ensnaring eyes my bondage tied : 
 
 Ah wretch ! no loves till then had toucht my breast ; 
 
 Love bent to earth these looks of stedfast pride, 
 And on my neck his foot triumphant prest. 
 
 He taught me, then, to loathe the virtuous fair, 
 And shameless waste my wild and driftless hours ; 
 
 Twelve moons this madness lasts ; and yet my prayer 
 Is breathed in hopeless love to adverse powers. 
 
 Minalion, erst, could all adventures brave, 
 Till Atalanta's barbarous heart grew mild ; 
 
 Love-crazed, he tried each drear Parthenian cave, 
 And lookt on shaggy beasts in forests wild ! 
 
 Struck by the branch the monstrous Centaur swayed, 
 Midst shrill Arcadia's rocks he groaning fell ; 
 
 And thus he tamed the nimble-footed maid ; 
 
 Thus love-prayers speed, and acts that merit well ! 
 
 In me no arts can tardy Love devise ; 
 
 His foot can track no more the beaten ways : 
 Come ye ! that draw the Moon from charmed skies, 
 
 That bid the hearth in magic orgies blaze. 
 
 Come ! turn a haughty mistress' marble heart, 
 And change her cheek, still paler than my own : 
 
 Then will I trust that stars obey your art, 
 And rivers rush, by muttered verse alone. 
 
 Friends ! that too late my sliding feet recall, 
 
 Some antidote to this my frenzy bear : 
 Bring steel ; bring flames and racks : I brave them all ; 
 
 But let me freely vent my fierce despair. 
 
 Oh snatch me to the world's remotest shore ! 
 
 Oh waft me o'er the immeasurable main ! 
 Where never woman may behold me more, 
 
 Nor trace my way, to sting with her disdain. 
 
INSPIRATION TO SONG. 265 
 
 Stay ye, to whom the listening God consents ; 
 
 Safe in an equal yoke of fondness move ; 
 But Venus all my bitter nights torments ; 
 
 No — not a single hour is free from love ! 
 
 Beware my sufferings : hold the mistress dear 
 
 Whose faith is tried, nor shift the accustomed sway ; 
 
 If to my voice ye bend a slothful ear, 
 
 What pangs shall my remembered words convey. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 CYNTHIA DANCING. 
 
 ? T was not her face, though fair, so smote my eye 
 (Less fair the lily than my love : as snows 
 
 Of Scythia with Iberian vermile vie ; 
 As float in milk the petals of the rose) ; 
 
 Nor locks that down her neck of ivory stream, 
 
 Nor eyes — my stars — twin lamps with love aglow ; 
 
 Nor if in silk of Araby she gleam 
 
 (I prize not baubles), does she thrill me so 
 
 As when she leaves the mantling cup to thread 
 The mazy dance, and moves before my view, 
 
 Graceful as blooming Ariadne led 
 
 The choral revels of the Bacchic crew ; 
 
 Or wakes the lute-strings with iEolian quill 
 To music worthy of the immortal Nine, 
 
 And challenges renowned Corinna's skill, 
 And rates her own above Erinna's line. 
 
 — Translation of James Cranstoun. 
 
 INSPIRATION TO SONG. 
 
 You ask me why love-elegy so frequently I follow, 
 And why my little book of tender trifles only sings : 
 
 It is not from Calliope, nor is it from Apollo, 
 
 But from my own sweet lady-love my inspiration 
 springs. 
 
266 SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS. 
 
 If in resplendent purple robe of Cos my darling dresses, 
 I '11 fill a portly volume with the Coan garment's praise ; 
 
 Or if her truant tresses wreathe her forehead with caresses, 
 The tresses of her queenly brow demand her poet's lays. 
 
 Or if, perchance, she strike the speaking lyre with ivory 
 fingers, 
 I marvel how those nimble fingers run the chords 
 along ; 
 Or if above her slumber-drooping eyes a shadow lingers, 
 My tranced mind is sure to find a thousand themes of 
 song. 
 
 Or if for love's delightful strife repose awhile be broken, 
 
 Oh ! I could write an Iliad of our sallies and alarms ; 
 If anything at all she's done — if any word she's 
 spoken — 
 From out of nothing rise at once innumerable charms. 
 — Translation of James Cranstoun. 
 
 BEAUTY UNADOKNED. 
 
 With purchast gauds why mar thy native grace, 
 Nor let thy form on its own charms depend ? 
 
 No borrowed arts can mend thy beauteous face : 
 No artist's skill will naked Love befriend. 
 
 See of all hues the winsome earth upsends, 
 How ivy with no training blooms the best ! 
 
 How rarest grace and growth the arbute blends 
 In mountain dells remotest, loneliest ! 
 
 And streams that glide in wild unstudied ways, 
 And shores with native pebbles glistering, 
 
 Outvie the attempts of art : no tutored lays 
 Sound half so sweet as wild bird's carolling. 
 
 — Translation of James Davies. 
 
LOVE'S SHIPWRECK. 267 
 
 LOVE'S SHIPWKECK. 
 
 Rightly I 'm served, who had the heart to fly ! 
 
 To the lone halcyons here I make my moan : 
 Nor shall my keel its wonted port draw nigh — 
 
 Adrift on thankless shore my vows are thrown. 
 
 Nay, more ! the adverse winds espouse thy side ! 
 
 Lo ! in rude gusts how fiercely chides the gale ! 
 Will no sweet Peace o'er yon wild tempest ride ? 
 
 Must these few sands to hide my corpse avail ? 
 
 Nay, change thy harsh complaints for milder tones ! 
 
 Let night on yonder shoals my pardon buy. 
 Thou wilt not brook to leave unurned my bones : 
 
 Thou wilt not face my loss with tearless eye. 
 
 Ah ! perish he who first with raft and sail 
 The whirlpools of a hostile deep essayed ! 
 
 Liefer I 'd let my Cynthia's whims prevail, 
 
 And tarried with a hard, yet matchless, maid — 
 
 Than scan a shore with unknown forests girt, 
 
 And strain mine eyes the welcome Twins to sight. 
 
 At home had Pate but stilled my bosom's hurt, 
 And one last stone o'er buried love lain light, 
 
 She should have shorn her tresses o'er my tomb, 
 And laid my bones to rest on cushioned rose, 
 
 Called the dear name above the dust of doom, 
 And bade me 'neath the sod uncrusht repose. 
 
 Daughters of Doris, tenants of the deep, 
 Unfurl the white sail with propitious hand ; 
 
 If e'er sly Love did 'neath your waters creep, 
 Oh ! grant a fellow-slave a kindly strand. 
 
 — Translation of James Davees. 
 
268 SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS. 
 
 A HINT OF JEALOUSY. 
 
 When thou to lounge mid Baiee's haunts art fain, 
 Near road first trackt by toiling Hercules, 
 
 Admiring now Thesprotus' old domain, 
 
 Now famed Misenum, hanging o'er the seas ; 
 
 Say, dost thou care for me, who watch alone ? 
 
 In thy love's corner hast thou room to spare ? 
 Or have my lays from thy remembrance flown, 
 
 Some treacherous stranger finding harbour there ? 
 
 Rather I 'd deem that, trusting tiny oar, 
 Thou guidest slender skiff in Lucrine wave ; 
 
 Or in a sheltered creek, by Teuthras' shore, 
 Dost cleave thy bath, as in lone ocean cave, 
 
 Than for seductive whispers leisure find, 
 
 Eeclining softly on the silent sand, 
 And mutual gods clean banish from thy mind, 
 
 As flirt is wont, no chaperon near at hand. 
 
 I know, of course, thy blameless character, 
 Yet in thy fond behalf all court I fear. 
 
 Ah ! pardon if my verse thy choler stir, 
 Blame but my jealous care for one so dear. 
 
 Mother and life beneath thy love I prize, 
 Cynthia to me is home, relations, bliss ; 
 
 Come I to friends with bright or downcast eyes — 
 'T is Cynthia's mood is the sole cause of this. 
 
 Ah! let her, then, loose Baiae's snares eschew — 
 Oft from its gay parades do quarrels spring, 
 
 And shores that oft have made true love untrue : 
 A curse on them, for lovers' hearts they wring. 
 
 — Translation of James Davies. 
 
CORNELIA. 269 
 
 LOVE'S FABEWELL. 
 
 At board and banquet have I been a jest, 
 And whoso chose might point a gibe at me ; 
 
 Full five years didst thou my stanch service test, 
 Now shalt thou bite thy nails to find me free. 
 
 I mind not tears — unmoved by trick so stale ; 
 
 Cynthia, thy tears from artful motives flow ; 
 I weep to part, but wrongs o'er sobs prevail ; 
 
 'T is thou hast dealt love's yoke its crushing blow. 
 
 Threshold, adieu, that pitied my distress, 
 
 And door that took no hurt from angered hand ; 
 
 But thee, false woman, may the inroads press 
 
 Of years, whose wrack in vain wilt thou withstand. 
 
 Ay, seek to pluck the hoar hairs from their root ; — 
 Lo, how the mirror chides thy wrinkled face ! 
 
 Now is thy turn to reap pride's bitter fruit, 
 And find thyself in the despised one's place : 
 
 Thrust out, in turn, to realize disdain, 
 
 And, what thou didst in bloom, when sere lament : 
 Such doom to thee foretells my fateful strain ; 
 
 Hear, then, and fear, thy beauty's punishment. 
 
 — Translation of James Da vies. 
 
 COENELIA. 
 
 And now I leave thee as a sacred trust, 
 
 That common pledge, our children ; for this care, 
 
 Branded into my dust, yet breathes and lives. 
 
 Hereafter thou, their father, take for them 
 
 A mother's office ; for thy neck must bear 
 
 The load of all my loved ones. When thou givest 
 
 Thy kisses as they weep, add too their mother's. 
 
 Thine is the burden of the household now. 
 
 If thou have sorrow, let them see thee not ; 
 
 Beguile them, when they come, with tearless cheeks 
 
 And fond caresses. Be it enough for thee 
 
 To weary the long nights with thoughts of me, 
 
 And the beholding of my form in dreams. 
 
270 SEXTUS AURELIUS PROPERTIUS. 
 
 So, when thou speakest to iny sacred shade, 
 Think thou hast answer to thine every word. 
 But now, whether it be the door I knew 
 Open upon an altered wedding-couch, 
 And a stepmother sit where I sat once, 
 Speak well, my children, of your father's wife, 
 And bear her yoke ; before your winning ways 
 It must be that her charmed heart will yield. 
 Also praise not your mother over much, 
 For your new parent, matcht with her of old, 
 Will think scorn of your free and innocent speech — 
 Or if my shade content him, and he think 
 My ashes of such price, learn well to mark 
 The coming of old age, and leave no room 
 For cares to enter which beset the life 
 Of single men. The number of the years 
 Which I have lost, Heaven add unto your days. 
 And so may Paullus, with my offspring left, 
 Love to be old. And it is well — for never 
 Clothed I myself in mourning for a child. 
 None, none was absent from my funeral rites. 
 But I have said. Plead for me ye that weep 
 While grateful Earth pays back the price of life. 
 Yea, Heaven itself hath opened to the good. 
 And may my bones, for all that I have wrought, 
 Ride on triumphant to the fields of rest ! 
 
 — Translation of Philip Stanhope Woksley. 
 
 LOYE AND SCIENCE. 
 
 Long as of youth the joyous hours remain, 
 
 Me may Castalia's sweet recess detain, 
 
 East by the umbrageous vale lulled to repose, 
 
 Where Aganippe warbles as it flows ; 
 
 Or roused by sprightly sounds from out the trance, 
 
 I'd in the ring knit hands and join the Muses' dance. 
 
 Give me to send the laughing bowl around 
 
 My soul in Bacchus' pleasing fetters bound ; 
 
 Let on this head unfading flowers reside, 
 
 There blooms the vernal rose's earliest pride ; 
 
 And when, our flames commissioned to destroy, 
 
 Age step twixt Love and me, and intercept the joy, 
 
LOVE AND SCIENCE. 271 
 
 When, my changed head these locks no lore shall know, 
 
 And all its jetty honours turn to snow ; 
 
 Then let me rightly spell of Nature's ways ; 
 
 To Providence, to Him my thoughts I 'd raise, 
 
 Who taught this vast machine its steadfast laws, 
 
 That first eternal, universal Cause ; 
 
 Search to what regions yonder Star retires, 
 
 That monthly waning hides her paly fires, 
 
 And whence, anew revived, with silver light 
 
 Relumes her crescent orb to cheer the dreary night : 
 
 How rising winds the face of Ocean sweep, 
 
 Where lie the eternal fountains of the deep, 
 
 And whence the cloudy magazines maintain 
 
 Their wintry war or pour the autumnal rain ; 
 
 How flames, perhaps, with dire confusion hurled, 
 
 Shall sink this beauteous fabric of the world ; 
 
 What colours paint the vivid arch of Jove ; 
 
 What wondrous force the solid earth can move, 
 
 When Pindus' self approaching ruin dreads, 
 
 Shakes all his pines and bows his hundred heads ; 
 
 Why does yon Orb, so exquisitely bright, 
 
 Obscure his radiance in a short-lived night ; 
 
 Whence the seven Sisters' congregated fires 
 
 And what Bootes' lazy wagon tires ; 
 
 How the rude surge its sandy bounds control ; 
 
 Who measured out the year, and bade the seasons roll ; 
 
 If realms beneath those fabled torments know, 
 
 Pangs without respite, fires that ever glow, 
 
 Earth's monster brood stretcht on their iron bed, 
 
 The hissing terrors round Alecto's head, 
 
 Scarce to nine acres Tityus' bulk confined, 
 
 The triple dog that scares the shadowy kind, 
 
 All angry Heaven inflicts, or Hell can feel, 
 
 The pendent rock, Ixion's whirling wheel, 
 
 Famine at feasts, and thirst amid the stream ; 
 
 Or are our fears the enthusiasts' empty dream, 
 
 And all the scenes that hurt the grave's repose, 
 
 But pictured horror and poetic woes. 
 
 These soft inglorious joys my hours engage; 
 
 Be Love my youth's pursuit and Science crown my Age. 
 
 You whose young bosoms feel a nobler flame 
 
 Redeem what Crassus lost and vindicate his name. 
 
 — Translation of Thomas Gray. 
 
PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Ovid was born March 20, 43 B.C., at Sulmo, now Sol- 
 mona, a picturesque spot "abounding in cool waters," 
 among the Apennines, about ninety miles northeast 
 from Rome. His father belonged to the equestrian 
 order, and seems to have been a practical, hard-headed 
 man of business, who had little sympathy with his son's 
 poetical proclivities, reminding him that Mseonian Homer 
 was penniless. He and his brother Lucius were carefully 
 educated, and he was destined to practise law in the Roman 
 courts. The death of Lucius doubled his prospects and 
 freed him from the necessity of labour. He had some 
 ability in oratory. Seneca, remarking that when he took 
 pains he was a good declaimer, added that his discourse 
 resembled a solutum carmen, " free and easy verse or im- 
 provisation." After studying rhetoric at Eome, he went 
 to Athens and became thoroughly familiar with Greek. 
 He travelled extensively in Asia and Sicily, afterward 
 utilizing his acquaintance with the scenes of legend and 
 romance to enrich his poems. He returned to Eome and 
 became one of the judges who tried will suits and some- 
 times criminal cases ; he was even promoted to be one of 
 the " decemviri," or presiding officers of that court. He 
 was twice married in early life, but both wives were 
 speedily divorced. It is a question whether the Comma 
 whom he celebrates in his three books of "Amores" 
 was a real person. It has been conjectured that she was 
 Julia, the dissolute daughter of the Emperor Augustus. 
 Some think that this mistress was only a fiction. 
 
 As a poet he was extremely popular. Even as a 
 youth he began to recite his verses in public. He 
 mingled in the fashionable literary set, and after his 
 happy marriage with his third wife he lived in a com- 
 fortable house near the temple of the Capitoline Jupiter. 
 Here his daughter Perilla was born. He also had a 
 summer home at Sulmo. While he was on the island 
 of Elba, in the year 9 a.d., he received a command 
 
 272 
 
PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 273 
 
 from the emperor to betake himself to Tomi, a town on 
 the Euxine, south of the mouths of the Danube, on the 
 very border of the empire. The ostensible reason was 
 the publication of his "Ars Amatoria." But although 
 Augustus commanded this to be expelled from the libra- 
 ries, it had been published ten years previously. The real 
 cause of his exile will never be known. He describes in 
 one of his poems the tragedy of his banishment. His 
 wife was left in Rome to scheme for the revocation of 
 the sentence. But he was not recalled. Tomi was a 
 small, disagreeable place, exposed to attacks from the bar- 
 barians, and so cold in winter that wine froze. He wrote 
 from there many letters to friends, complaining of his 
 fate ; these poetical epistles are full of pathetic pictures 
 of his unhappiness. He amused himself in learning the 
 language of the Getae among whom he lived, and com- 
 posed poems in it. They were publicly recited and received 
 with great applause. He made himself so well beloved 
 by this people that they freed him from all public service. 
 He died in exile 18 a.d. Ovid was a voluminous writer. 
 Besides his love poems and the epistolary and other com- 
 plaints of his exile, his best-known work is the fifteen 
 books of " The Metamorphoses," in which he embodied 
 in graceful verse many of the myths of the Greeks and 
 Romans. These are woven into a continuous poem of 
 considerable unity with much skill. He also wrote a 
 tragedy entitled " Medea," which was very successful ; 
 only two lines of it are left. Ovid probably composed 
 too spontaneously and fluently to accomplish the most 
 perfect results. He was hardly a great poet, and of late 
 years he has been rather neglected. In the seventeenth 
 century he was even more popular than Vergil. Zachary 
 Catlin called him " the Muses' favourite and white sun," 
 and Wye Saltonstall, in one of the dainty little volumes 
 which contain his translations of the "Elegies and Let- 
 ters," thus vented his enthusiasm : — 
 
 " Of all the Poets that in verse did raigne 
 As Monarchs, none could equall Ovid's straine, 
 Especially in the affaires of Love 
 Ovid the Master of that Art did prove. 
 His fancies were so pleasing and so sweet 
 That Love did wish no other winding sheet, 
 If he had inortall beene, for he would dye 
 To live again in his Sweet Poesie." 
 
274 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 THE CREATION. 
 " The Metamorphoses." 
 
 Of bodies chang'd to other shapes I sing. 
 Assist, you G-ods (from you these changes spring) 
 And, from the Worlds first fabrick to these times, 
 Deduce my never-discontinued Rymes. 
 The Sea, the Earth, all covering Heaven vnfram'd, 
 One face had Nature, which they Chaos nam'd : 
 An vndigested lump, a barren load, 
 Where jarring seeds of things ill-joyn'd aboad. 
 No Titan yet the world with light adornes ; 
 Nor waxing Phoebe fill'd her wained homes : 
 Nor hung the self-poiz'd Earth in thin Ayre plac'd ; 
 Nor Amphitrite the vast shore imbrac'd. 
 With Earth was Ayre and Sea : the Earth vnstable, 
 The Ayre was darke, the Sea vn-navigable : 
 No certaine forme to any one assign'd. 
 This, that resists. For, in one body joyn'd, 
 The Cold and Hot, the Drie and Humid fight ; 
 The Soft and Hard, the Heavie with the Light. 
 But God, the better Nature, this decides : 
 Who Earth from Heaven, the Sea from Earth divides : 
 And purer Heaven extracts from grosser Ayre. 
 All which vnf olded by his prudent care 
 From that blind Masse; the happily dis-joyn'd 
 With strifelesse peace He to their seats confin'd. 
 Forth-with vp-sprung the quick and waightlesse Fire, 
 Whose flames vnto the highest Arch aspire : 
 The next, in levitie and place, is Ayre : 
 Grosse Elements to thicker Earth repayre 
 Selfe-clog'd with waight : the Waters flowing round, 
 Possesse the last, and solid Tettus bound. 
 
 What God soeuer this division wrought, 
 And every part to due proportion brought ; 
 First, least the Earth vnequall should appeare, 
 He turn'd it round, in figure of a Spheare ; 
 Then, Seas diffus'd ; commanding them to roare 
 With ruffling Winds, and giue the Land a shore- 
 To those he addeth Springs, Ponds, Lakes immense; 
 And Riuers, whom their winding borders fence : 
 Of these, now few Earth's thirsty jawes devoure: 
 
THE CREATION. 275 
 
 The rest, the streames into the Ocean poure ; 
 
 When in that liquid Plaine, with freer waue, 
 
 The f oamie Cliffes, in stead of Banks, they laue : 
 
 Bids Trees increase to Woods, the Plaines extend, 
 
 The rocky Mountaynes rise, and Vales descend. 
 
 Two equall Zones, on either side, dispose 
 
 The ineasur'd Heauens ; a fifth, more hot then those. 
 
 As many Lines th' included Globe divide : 
 
 V th' midst vnsuff erable beams reside ; 
 
 Snow clothes the other two : the temperate hold 
 
 'Twixt these their seats, the Heat well mixt with Cold. 
 
 As Earth, as Water, vpper Ayre out-waighs ; 
 
 So much doth Ayre Eire's lighter balance raise. 
 
 There, He commands the changing Clouds to stray ; 
 There, thundering terrors mortall mindes dismay ; 
 And with the Lightning, Winds ingendring Snow : 
 Yet not permitted every way to blow ; 
 Who hardly now to teare the World refraine 
 (So Brothers jarre !) though they divided raigne, 
 To Persis and Sabbcea, Eurus flies ; 
 Whose gums perfume the blushing Mornes vp-rise : 
 Next to the Evening, and the Coast that glowes 
 With setting Phoebus, flowrie Zeph'rus blowes : 
 In Scythia horrid Boreas holds his raigne, 
 Beneath Bootes and the frozen Waine : 
 The Land to this oppos'd,' doth Auster steepe 
 With fruitfull showres, and clouds which ever weepe. 
 Aboue all these He plac't the liquid Skies ; 
 Which, void of earthly dregs, did highest rise. 
 
 Scarce had He all thus orderly dispos'd ; 
 When as the Starres their radiant heads disclos'd 
 (Long hid in Night) and shone through all the skie. 
 Then that no place should vnpossessed lie 
 Bright Constellations, and faire figured Gods, 
 In heauenly Mansions flxt their blest abodes : 
 The glittering Fishes to the Floods repayre ; 
 The Beasts to Earth, the Birds resort to Ayre. 
 
 The nobler Creature, with a mind possest, 
 Was wanting yet, that should command the rest. 
 That Maker, the best World's originall, 
 Either Him fram'd of seed Cselestiall ; 
 Or Earth, which late he did from Heauen diuide, 
 Some sacred seeds retain' d, to Heauen ally'd : 
 
276 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Which with the liuing streame Prometheus mixt ; 
 
 And in that artificiall structure fixt 
 
 The forme of all th' all-ruling Deities. 
 
 And whereas others see with down-caste eyes, 
 
 He with a loftie looke did Man indue, 
 
 And bade him heauens transcendent glories view. 
 
 So, that rude Clay, which had no forme afore, 
 
 Thus chang'd, of Man the vnknowne figure bore. 
 
 — Translation of George Sandys (ed. of 1632). 
 
 PATIENCE AND TACT. 
 
 "The Art of Love." 
 
 With Parthians, war ; but with thy maiden prove 
 
 Soft peace, light wit, and every cause of love. 
 
 Though harsh, uncourteous, she withhold consent ; 
 
 Persist, be patient, she shall yet relent. 
 
 The tree's bent branch by gentle training plies ; 
 
 Urge your whole strength, it rudely snaps and flies ; 
 
 By gentle force your arms the stream divide, 
 
 For vainly would you stem the hurrying tide. 
 
 Tigers to this, Numidian lions, bow ; 
 
 This tames the bull, and yokes him to the plough. 
 
 Than Atalanta who more fierce of mood ? 
 
 A lover's soft deserts that scorn subdued. 
 
 Though oft Milanion, underneath the tree, 
 
 Wept his hard hap, and maiden's cruelty ; 
 
 Oft on his neck the huntress' toils were laid ; 
 
 Oft his fell spear the grimly boar assayed ; 
 
 And once a Centaur's arrow winged the wound, 
 
 Yet Love's keen arrow was more painful found. 
 
 I bid thee not to javelins bare thy heart ; 
 
 Soft are the cautions of thy master's art. 
 
 Still stoop to conquer ; when she thwarts thee yield ; 
 
 Do all her bidding, thou shalt win the field. 
 
 Thus, when she argues, argue on her side ; 
 
 What she approves approve ; deny what she denied ; 
 
 Say and unsay ; and, as her face appears, 
 
 Smile on her smiles, and weep upon her tears. 
 
 If with ill throw she cast the ivory die, 
 
 Throw with ill luck ; be hers the victory : 
 
PATIENCE AND TACT. 211 
 
 Ne'er with good cast a lucky vengeance take ; 
 
 But throw ace-point ; be thine the losing stake. 
 
 Or, when the chessman moves in mock campaign, 
 
 Thy pawn should by its glassy foe be slain. 
 
 Her rod-distended parasol display ; 
 
 Make the rude crowd before her steps give way ; 
 
 Affix the footstool to her slight settee ; 
 
 Be the slid slipper placed, displaced, by thee. 
 
 Oft, though thyself be shivering with the cold, 
 
 Her hand within thy bosom, chafing, hold; 
 
 Nor think it mean, such meanness charms, to bear, 
 
 Though nobly bred, the mirror of the fair. 
 
 When bidden to the square, obedient start 
 
 At earlier hour, and, lingering, late depart. 
 
 Run, to whatever place ; all else defer ; 
 
 Not crowds should stay thee, when thou fliest to her. 
 
 At night, the banquet o'er, she seeks her home, 
 
 And calls her slave ; do thou, obsequious, come. 
 
 Or, should she bid thee from the rural shade, 
 
 Love hates the slothful, be the call obeyed. 
 
 If wheels be wanting, take on foot thy way ; 
 
 No lowering weather should thy haste delay ; 
 
 No parching dog-star heat; no whitening track, 
 
 That leads through deepening snow-drifts, hold thee back. 
 
 Love is like war : ye faint of heart ! begone ! 
 
 No coward hands must bear our standards on. 
 
 In these soft camps are countless labours found ; 
 
 Night, tempest, journeyings, many a grief and wound. 
 
 The clouds shall drench thee with aerial rain, 
 
 And thy cold limbs shall press the unsheltered plain. 
 
 Are level open ways thy feet denied ? 
 
 To barricaded doors are bolts applied ? 
 
 Yet the free roof is open to the sky ; 
 
 Drop, or through stealthy windows slide from high. 
 
 Thy hair-breadth 'scapes the nymph shall pleased approve ; 
 
 Herself the cause, and this thy pledge of love. 
 
 — Translation of Alexander Pope. 
 
278 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 THE KEMEDY FOE, HOPELESS LOVE. 
 Sappho's Letter to Phaon. 
 
 A. spring there is, where silver waters show 
 
 Clear as a glass, the shining sands below ; 
 
 A flowery lotus spreads its arms above, 
 
 Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove : 
 
 Eternal greens the mossy margin grace, 
 
 Watched by the sylvan genius of the place. 
 
 Here as I lay, and swelled with tears the flood, 
 
 Before my sight a watery virgin stood : 
 
 She stood and cried, " Oh, you that love in vain, 
 
 Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main ! 
 
 There stands a rock, from whose impending steep 
 
 Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep ; 
 
 There injured lovers, leaping from above, 
 
 Their flames extinguish and forget to love. 
 
 Deucalion once, with hopeless fury burned, 
 
 In vain he loved, relentless Pyrrha scorned : 
 
 But when from hence he plunged into the main, 
 
 Deucalion scorned and Pyrrha loved in vain. 
 
 Hence, Sappho, haste ! from high Leucadia throw 
 
 Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below/* 
 
 She spoke, and vanisht with the voice — I rise, 
 
 And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes. 
 
 I go, ye nymphs, those rocks and seas to prove : 
 
 And much I fear ; but ah ! how much I love ! 
 
 I go, ye nymphs, where furious love inspires ; 
 
 Let female fears submit to female fires. 
 
 To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate, 
 
 And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate. 
 
 Ye gentle gales, below my body blow, 
 
 And softly lay me on the waves below ! 
 
 And then, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain, 
 
 Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main, 
 
 Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood profane ! 
 
 On Phoebus' shrine my harp I '11 then bestow, 
 
 And this inscription shall be placed below — 
 
 " Here she who sung to him that did inspire, 
 
 Sappho to Phoebus consecrates her lyre ; 
 
 What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with thee — 
 
 The gift, the giver, and the god agree." 
 
 — From the translation of Alexander Pope. 
 
A POETS FAME. 279 
 
 A POET'S FAME. 
 
 Envy, why twitt'st thou me my time 's spent ill, 
 
 Or call'st my verse fruits of an idle quill ? 
 
 Or that, unlike the line from whence I sprung, 
 
 War's dusty honours I pursue not young ? 
 
 Or that I study not the tedious laws, 
 
 And prostitute my voice in every cause ? 
 
 Thy scope is mortal ; mine, eternal fame, 
 
 Which through the world shall ever chant my name ! 
 
 Homer will live whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide, 
 
 Or to the sea fleet Simo'is doth slide : 
 
 And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do bear, 
 
 Or crooked sickles crop the ripened ear. 
 
 Callimachus, though in invention low, 
 
 Shall still be sung, since he in art doth flow. 
 
 No loss shall come to Sophocles' proud vein : 
 
 With sun and moon Aratus shall remain. 
 
 Ennius, though rude, and Accius' high-reared strain, 
 
 A fresh applause in every age shall gain. 
 
 Of Varro's name what ear shall not be told ? 
 
 Of Jason's Argo and the fleece of gold ? 
 
 Then shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die 
 
 When earth and seas in fire and flames shall fry. 
 
 Tityrus, Tillage, iEney shall be read 
 
 Whilst Rome of all the conquered world is head. 
 
 Till Cupid's fires be out and his bow broken, 
 
 Thy verses neat Tibullus shall be spoken. 
 
 Our G-allus shall be known from East to West ; 
 
 So shall Lycoris whom he now loves best. 
 
 The suffering ploughshare or the flint may wear ; 
 
 But heavenly poesy no death can fear. 
 
 Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows, 
 
 The banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows. 
 
 Kneel hinds to trash : me let bright Phoebus swell 
 
 With cups full-flowing from the Muses' well ! 
 
 The frost-drad myrtle shall impale my head, 
 
 And of sad lovers I '11 be often read ! 
 
 Envy the living not the dead doth bite, 
 
 Eor after death all men receive their right. 
 
 Then when this body falls in funeral fire, 
 
 My name shall live and my best part aspire. 
 
 — Translation of Ben Jonson. 
 
280 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 A CAPTIVE OF LOVE. 
 
 What makes my bed seem hard, seeing it is soft ? 
 
 Or why slips down the coverlet so oft ? 
 
 Although the nights be long, I sleep not through ; 
 
 My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro. 
 
 Were Love the cause, it 's like I should descry him ; 
 
 Or lies he close, and shoots where none can spy him ? 
 
 'T was so ; he struck ; he struck me with a slender dart ; 
 
 'T is cruel Love turmoils my captive heart. 
 
 Yielding or struggling, do we give him might ? 
 
 Let 's yield : a burden easily borne is light ! 
 
 I saw a brandisht fire increase in strength ; 
 
 Which being not shaked, I saw it die at length. 
 
 Young oxen newly yoked are beaten more 
 
 Than oxen which have drawn the plough before ; 
 
 And rough jades' mouths with stubborn bits are torn; 
 
 But managed horses' heads are lightly borne. 
 
 Unwilling lovers Love doth more torment 
 
 Than such as in their bondage feel content. 
 
 Lo, I confess, I am thy captive, I ! 
 
 And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie. 
 
 What needst thou war ? I sue to thee for grace : 
 
 With arms to conquer armless men is base ! 
 
 Yoke Venus' doves, put myrtles on thy hair : 
 
 Vulcan will give thee chariots rich and fair. 
 
 The people thee applauding, thou shalt stand, 
 
 Guiding the harmless pigeons with thy hand : 
 
 Young men and women shalt thou lead as thrall ; 
 
 So will thy triumph seem magnifical : 
 
 I, lately caught, will have a new-made wound, 
 
 And captive-like be manicled and bound : 
 
 Good meaning, shame and such as seek Love's wrack, 
 
 Shall follow thee, their hands tied at their back : 
 
 Thee all shall fear and worship as a king ; 
 
 Io-triumphing shall thy people sing ; 
 
 Smooth speeches, Fear, and Rage shall by thee ride, 
 
 Which troops have always been on Cupid's side : 
 
 Thou with these soldiers conquer'st Gods and men ; 
 
 Take these away, where is thine honour then ? 
 
 Thy mother shall from Heaven applaud this show, 
 
 And on their faces heaps of roses strow : 
 
ON THE DEATH OF CORINNA'S PARROT. 281 
 
 "With beauty of thy wings thy fair hair gilded, 
 Eide, golden Love, in chariot richly builded. 
 Unless I err, full many shalt thou burn, 
 And give wounds infinite at every turn : 
 In spite of thee, forth will thine arrows fly ; 
 A scorching flame burns all the standers-by. 
 So having conquered Ind, was Bacchus' hue : 
 Thee pompous birds, and him two tigers drew. 
 Then, seeing I grace thy show in following thee, 
 Forbear to hurt thyself in spoiling me. 
 Behold thy kinsman Caesar's prosperous bands. 
 Who guards the conqueror with his conquering hands. 
 — Translation of Christopher Marlowe. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF COBINNA'S PAEEOT. 
 
 The Parrot, from East India to me sent, 
 
 Is dead : all fowls, her exequies frequent. 
 
 Go, godly birds, striking your breasts, bewail, 
 
 And with rough claws your tender cheeks assail ! 
 
 For woful hairs let piece-torn plumes abound ; 
 
 For long shrild trumpets let your notes resound ! 
 
 Why, Philomel, dost Tereus' lewdness mourn? 
 
 All-wasting years have that complaint now worn : 
 
 Thy tunes let this rare bird's sad funeral borrow, 
 
 Itys a great, but ancient, cause of sorrow. 
 
 All you whose pinions in the clear air soar, 
 
 But most thou friendly turtle-dove, deplore : 
 
 Full concord all your lives was you betwixt, 
 
 And to the end your constant faith stood fixt ; 
 
 What Pylades did to Orestes prove, 
 
 Such to the parrot was the turtle-dove ! 
 
 But what availed this faith ? Her rarest hue ? 
 
 Or voice that how to change the wild notes knew ? 
 
 What helps it thou wert given to please my wench ? 
 
 Birds' hapless glory, death thy life doth quench. 
 
 Thou with thy quills mightst make green emeralds dark, 
 
 And pass our scarlet of red saffron's mark. 
 
 No such voice-feigning bird was on the ground ; 
 
 Thou spok'st thy words so well with stammering sound. 
 
282 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Envy hath rapt thee : no fierce wars thou movedst ; 
 
 Vain-babbling speech and pleasant peace thou lovedst. 
 
 Behold, how quails among their battles live, 
 
 Which do perchance old age unto them give. 
 
 A little filled thee ; and, for love of talk, 
 
 Thy mouth to taste of many meats did balk. 
 
 Nuts were thy food and poppy caused thee sleep ; 
 
 Pure water's moisture thirst away did keep. 
 
 The ravenous vulture lives ; the puttock hovers 
 
 Around the air ; the cadess rain discovers ; 
 
 And crows survive arms-bearing Pallas' hate, 
 
 Whose life nine ages scarce bring out of date. 
 
 Dead is that speaking image of man's voice, 
 
 The parrot given me, the far world's best choice. 
 
 The greedy spirits take the best things first, 
 
 Supplying their void places with the worst. 
 
 Thersites did Protesilaus survive ; 
 
 And Hector died, his brothers yet alive ! 
 
 My wench's vows for thee what should I show, 
 
 Which stormy South winds into sea did blow ? 
 
 The seventh day came ; none following mightst thou see ; 
 
 And the Pate's distaff empty stood to thee. 
 
 Yet words in thy benumbed palate rung ; 
 
 " Farewell, Corinna," cried thy dying tongue. 
 
 Elysium hath a wood of holm-trees black, 
 
 Whose earth doth not perpetual green grass lack. 
 
 There good birds rest (if we believe things hidden), 
 
 Whence unclean fowls are said to be forbidden. 
 
 There harmless swans feed all abroad the river ; 
 
 There lives the phoenix, one alone bird ever ; 
 
 There Juno's bird displays his gorgeous feather, 
 
 And loving doves kiss eagerly together. 
 
 The parrot, into wood received with these, 
 
 Turns all the godly birds to what she please. 
 
 A grave her bones hides : on her corps' great grave 
 
 The little stones these little verses have : — 
 
 This tomb approves I pleased my mistress well ; 
 
 My mouth in speaking did all birds excel. 
 
 — Translation of Christopher Marlowe. 
 
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF TIBULLUS. 283 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 Sign of my too presumptuous flame, 
 
 To fairest Celia haste, nor linger, 
 And may she gladly breathe my name, 
 
 And gayly put thee on her finger ! 
 
 Suit her as I myself, that she 
 
 May fondle thee with murmured blessing ; 
 Caressed by Celia ! Who could be 
 
 Unenvious of such sweet caressing ? 
 
 Had I Medea's magic art, 
 
 Or Proteus' power of transformation, 
 Then would I blithely play thy part, 
 
 The happiest trinket in creation ! 
 
 Oh ! on her bosom I would fall, 
 Her finger guiding all too lightly ; 
 
 Or else be magically small, 
 
 Fearing to be discarded nightly. 
 
 And I her ruby lips would kiss 
 
 (What mortal's fortune could be better ?) 
 As oft allowed to seal my bliss 
 
 As she desires to seal a letter. 
 
 Now go, these are delusions bright 
 
 Of idle Fancy's idlest scheming ; 
 Tell her to read the token right — 
 
 Tell her how sweet is true love's dreaming. 
 
 — Paraphrase of A. A. Brodrjbb. 
 
 ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF TIBULLUS. 
 
 If bright Aurora mourned for Memnon's fate, 
 Or the fair Thetis wept Achilles slain, 
 
 And the sad sorrows that on mortals wait 
 Can ever move celestial hearts with pain — 
 
284 PUBLIUS 0V1DIUS NASO. 
 
 Come, doleful Elegy ! too just a name ! 
 
 Unbind thy tresses fair, in loose attire, 
 For he, thy bard, the herald of thy fame, 
 
 Tibullus, burns on the funereal pyre. 
 
 Ah, lifeless corse ! Lo ! Venus' boy draws near 
 With upturned quiver and with shattered bow, 
 
 His torch extinguisht, see him toward the bier 
 With drooping wings disconsolately go. 
 
 He smites his heaving breast with cruel blow, 
 
 Those straggling locks, his neck all streaming round, 
 
 Receive the tears that fastly trickling flow, 
 While sobs convulsive from his lips resound. 
 
 In guise like this, lulus, when of yore 
 His dear iEneas died, he sorrowing went ; 
 
 Now Venus wails as when the raging boar 
 The tender thigh of her Adonis rent. 
 
 We bards are named the gods' peculiar care ; 
 
 Nay, some declare that poets are divine ; 
 Yet forward death no holy thing can spare, 
 
 Round all his dismal arms he dares entwine. 
 
 Did Orpheus' mother aid, or Linus' sire ? 
 
 That one subdued fierce lions by his song 
 Availed not ; and, they say, with plaintive lyre 
 
 The god mourned Linus, woods and glades among. 
 
 Mseonides, from whose perennial lay 
 Flow the rich fonts of the Pierian wave 
 
 To wet the lips of bards, one dismal day 
 
 Sent down to Orcus and the gloomy grave — 
 
 Him, too, Avernus holds in drear employ ; 
 
 Only his songs escape the greedy pile ; 
 His work remains — the mighty wars of Troy, 
 
 And the slow web, unwove by nightly guile. 
 
 Live a pure life ; — yet death remains thy doom : 
 Be pious ; — ere from sacred shrines you rise, 
 
 Death drags you heedless to the hollow tomb ! 
 Confide in song — lo ! there Tibullus lies. 
 
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF TIBULLUS. 285 
 
 Scarce of so great a soul, thus lowly laid, 
 Enough remains to fill this little urn ; 
 
 O holy bard ! were not the flames afraid 
 
 That hallowed corse thus ruthlessly to burn ? 
 
 These might devour the heavenly halls that shine 
 With gold — they dare a villany so deep : 
 
 She turned who holds the Erycinian shrine, 
 
 And there are some who say she turned to weep. 
 
 Yet did the base soil of a stranger land 
 Not hold him nameless ; as the spirit fled 
 
 His mother closed his eyes with gentle hand, 
 And paid the last sad tribute to the dead. 
 
 Here, with thy wretched mother's woe to wait, 
 Thy sister came with loose dishevelled hair ; 
 
 Nemesis kisses thee, and thy earlier mate — 
 They watcht the pyre when all had left it bare. 
 
 Departing, Delia faltered, " Thou wert true, 
 
 The Fates were cheerful then, when I was thine:" 
 
 The other, " Say, what hast thou here to do ? " 
 Dying, he claspt his failing hand in mine. 
 
 Ah, yet, if any part of us remains 
 
 But name and shadow, Albius is not dead ; 
 
 And thou, Catullus, in Elysian plains, 
 With Calvus see the ivy crown his head. 
 
 Thou, Gallus, prodigal of life and blood, 
 If false the charge of amity betrayed, 
 
 And aught remains across the Stygian flood, 
 Shalt meet him yonder with thy happy shade. 
 
 Refined Tibullus ! thou art joined to those 
 Living in calm communion with the blest ; 
 
 In peaceful urn thy quiet bones repose — 
 May earth lie lightly where thy ashes rest ! 
 
 — Translation of Alfred Church. 
 
286 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 THE SUN-GOD'S PALACE. 
 
 ' ' The Metamorphoses. ' ' 
 
 Sublime on lofty columns, bright with gold 
 
 And fiery carbuncle, its roof inlaid 
 
 With ivory, rose the Palace of the Sun, 
 
 Approacht by folding gates with silver sheen 
 
 Radiant; material priceless, — yet less prized 
 
 Eor its own worth than what the cunning head 
 
 Of Mulciber thereon had wrought, — the globe 
 
 Of Earth, — the Seas that wash it round, — the Skies 
 
 That overhang it. Mid the waters played 
 
 Their Gods cserulean. Triton with his horn 
 
 "Was there, and Proteus of the shifting shape, 
 
 And old iEgeon, curbing with firm hand 
 
 The monsters of the deep. Her Nereids there 
 
 Round Doris sported, seeming, some to swim, 
 
 Some on the rocks their tresses green to dry, 
 
 Some dolphin-borne to ride ; nor all in face 
 
 The same, nor different; — so should sisters be. 
 
 Earth showed her men and towns and woods and beasts 
 
 And streams and nymphs and rural deities : 
 
 And over all the mimic Heaven was bright 
 
 With the twelve Zodiac signs, on either valve 
 
 Of the great portal figured, — six on each. 
 
 — Translation of Henry King. 
 
 IMPERTINENCE PUNISHED. 
 
 "The Metamorphoses." 
 
 Weary and travel-worn, — her lips unwet 
 
 With water, at a straw-thatcht cottage door 
 
 The Wanderer knockt. An ancient crone came forth 
 
 And saw her need, and hospitable brought 
 
 Her bowl of barley-broth, and bade her drink. 
 
 Thankful she raised it : — but a graceless boy 
 
 And impudent stood by, and, ere the half 
 
 Was drained, " Ha ! ha ! see how the glutton swills ! " 
 
 With insolent jeer he cried. The Goddess' ire 
 
 Was roused, and, as he spoke, what liquor yet 
 
ORPHEUS IN HADES. 287 
 
 The bowl retained full in his face she dasht. 
 His cheeks broke out in blotches : — what were arms 
 Turned legs, and from the shortened trunk a tail 
 Tapered behind. Small mischief evermore 
 Might that small body work : — the lizard's self 
 Was larger now than he. With terror shriekt 
 The crone, and weeping stoopt her altered child 
 To raise ; — the little monster fled her grasp 
 And wriggled into hiding. Still his name 
 His nature tells, and, from the star-like spots 
 That mark him, known as Stellio crawls the Newt. 
 — Translation of Henry King. 
 
 OKPHEUS IN HADES. 
 
 "The Metamorphoses." 
 
 So sang he, and, accordant to his plaint, 
 
 As wailed the strings, the bloodless Ghosts were moved 
 
 To weeping. By the lips of Tantalus 
 
 Unheeded slipt the wave ; — Ixion's wheel 
 
 Forgot to whirl ; — the Vulture's bloody feast 
 
 Was stayed ; — awhile the Belides forbore 
 
 Their leaky urns to dip ; — and Sisyphus 
 
 Sate listening on his stone. Then first, they say, 
 
 The iron cheeks of the Eumenides 
 
 Were wet with pity. Of the nether realm 
 
 Nor King nor Queen had heart to say him nay. 
 
 Eorth from a host of new-descended Shades 
 
 Eurydice was called ; and, halting yet 
 
 Slow with her recent wound she came — alive, 
 
 On one condition to her spouse restored, 
 
 That, till A vermis' vale is past and earth 
 
 Eegained, he look not backward, or the boon 
 
 Is null and forfeit. Through the silent realm 
 
 Upward against the steep and fronting hill 
 
 Dark with obscurest gloom, the way he led : 
 
 And now the upper air was all but won, 
 
 When, fearful lest the toil o'ertask her strength, 
 
 And yearning to behold the form he loved, 
 
 An instant back he lookt, — and back the Shade 
 
 Th?ct instant fled ! The arms that wildly strove 
 
288 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 To clasp and stay her claspt but yielding air ! 
 No word of plaint even in that second Death 
 Against her Lord she uttered, — how could Love 
 Too anxious be upbraided ? — but one last 
 And sad " Farewell ! " scarce audible, she sighed, 
 And vanisht to the Ghosts that late she left. 
 
 — Translation of Henry King. 
 
 THE GIANTS' WAR. 
 
 First Book of "The Metamorphoses." 
 
 Nor were the gods themselves more safe above; 
 Against beleaguered heaven the giants move. 
 Hills piled on hills, on mountains mountains lie, 
 To make their mad approaches to the sky. 
 Till Jove, no longer patient, took his time 
 To avenge with thunder their audacious crime : 
 Red lightning played along the firmament, 
 And their demolisht works to pieces rent. 
 Singed with the flames, and with the bolts transfixt, 
 With native earth their blood the monsters mixt ; 
 The blood, indued with animating heat, 
 Did in the impregnate earth new sons beget ; 
 They, like the seed from which they sprung, accurst, 
 Against the gods immortal hatred nurst : 
 An impious, arrogant, and cruel brood ; 
 Expressing their original from blood. 
 Which when the king of gods beheld from high 
 (Withal revolving in his memory, 
 What he himself had found on earth of late, 
 Lycaon's guilt, and his inhuman treat) 
 He sighed, nor longer with his pity strove ; 
 But kindled to a wrath becoming Jove ; 
 Then called a general council of the gods ; 
 Who, summoned, issue from their blest abodes, 
 And fill the assembly with a shining train. 
 A way there is in heaven's expanded plain, 
 Which, when the skies are clear, is seen below, 
 And mortals by the name of " Milky " know. 
 The groundwork is of stars ; through which the road 
 Lies open to the Thunderer's abode. 
 
THE GIANTS' WAR. 289 
 
 The gods of greater nations dwell around, 
 And on the right and left the palace bound ; 
 The commons where they can ; the nobler sort, 
 With winding doors wide open, front the court. 
 This place, as far as earth with heaven may vie, 
 I dare to call the Louvre of the sky. 
 When all were placed, in seats distinctly known, 
 And he, their father, had assumed the throne, 
 Upon his ivory sceptre first he leant, 
 Then shook his head, that shook the firmament : 
 Air, earth, and seas obeyed the Almighty nod : 
 And, with a general fear, confest the god. 
 At length, with indignation, thus he broke 
 His awful silence, and the powers bespoke. 
 " I was not more concerned in that debate 
 Of empire, when our universal state 
 Was put to hazard, and the giant race 
 Our captive skies were ready to embrace : 
 For though the foe was fierce, the seeds of all 
 Rebellion sprung from one original ; 
 Now wheresoever ambient waters glide, 
 All are corrupt, and all must be destroyed. 
 Let me this holy protestation make : 
 By hell, and hell's inviolable lake, 
 I tried whatever in the god-head lay ; 
 But gangrened members must be lopt away, 
 Before the nobler parts are tainted to decay. 
 There dwells below a race of demigods, 
 Of nymphs in waters, and of fauns in woods ; 
 Who, though not worthy yet in heaven to live, 
 Let 'em at least enjoy that earth we give. 
 Can these be thought securely lodged below, 
 When I myself, who no superior know, 
 I, who have heaven and earth at my command, 
 Have been attempted by Lycaon's hand ? " 
 At this a murmur through the synod went, 
 And with one voice they vote his punishment. 
 Thus, when conspiring traitors dared to doom 
 The fall of Caesar, and, in him, of Rome, 
 The nations trembled with a pious fear, 
 All anxious for their earthly thunderer ; 
 Nor was their care, Caesar, less esteemed 
 By thee, than that of heaven for Jove was deemed : 
 
290 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Who with his hand, and voice, did first restrain 
 Their murmurs, then resumed his speech again. 
 The gods to silence were composed, and sate 
 With reverence due to his superior state. 
 
 " Cancel your pious cares ; already he 
 Has paid his debt to justice, and to me. 
 Yet what his crimes, and what my judgments were, 
 Remains for me thus briefly to declare. 
 The clamours of this vile degenerate age, 
 The cries of orphans, and the oppressor's rage, 
 Had reacht the stars ; I will descend, said I, 
 In hope to prove this loud complaint a lie. 
 Disguised in human shape, I travelled round 
 The world, and more than what I heard, I found. 
 O'er Maenalus I took my steepy way, 
 By caverns infamous for beasts of prey. 
 Then crost Cyllene, and the piny shade, 
 More infamous by curst Lycaon made : 
 Dark night had covered heaven and earth, before 
 I entered his unhospitable door. 
 Just at my entrance, I displayed the sign 
 That somewhat was approaching of divine. 
 The prostrate people pray ; the tyrant grins ; 
 And, adding profanation to his sins, 
 * I '11 try,' said he, ' and if a god appear, 
 To prove his deity shall cost him dear.' 
 'T was late ; the graceless wretch my death prepares, 
 When I should soundly sleep, opprest with cares : 
 This dire experiment he chose, to prove 
 If I were mortal, or undoubted Jove : 
 But first he had resolved to test my power : 
 Not long before, but in a luckless hour, 
 Some legates sent from the Molossian state, 
 Were on a peaceful errand come to treat : 
 Of these he murders one, he boils the flesh, 
 And lays the mangled morsels in a dish : 
 Some parts he roasts ; then serves it up so drest, 
 And bids me welcome to this human feast. 
 Moved with disdain, the table I o'erturned, 
 And with avenging flames the palace burned. 
 The tyrant, in a fright, for shelter gains 
 The neighbouring field's, and scours along the plains. 
 Howling he fled, and fain he would have spoke, 
 
THE GIANTS' WAR. 291 
 
 But human voice his brutal tongue forsook, 
 About his lips the gathered foam he churns, 
 And breathing slaughter, still with rage he burns, 
 But on the bleating flock his fury turns. 
 His mantle, now his hide, with rugged hairs 
 Cleaves to his back ; a f amisht face he bears ; 
 His arms descend, his shoulders sink away, 
 To multiply his legs for chase of prey. 
 He grows a wolf, his hoariness remains, 
 And the same rage in other members reigns, 
 His eyes still sparkle in a narrower space, 
 His jaws retain the grin, and violence of his face. 
 
 " This was a single ruin, but not one. 
 Deserves so just a punishment alone. 
 Mankind 's a monster, and the ungodly times, 
 Confederate into guilt, are sworn to crimes. 
 All are alike involved in ill, and all 
 Must by the same relentless fury fall." 
 
 Thus ended he ; the greater gods assent, 
 By clamours urging his severe intent ; 
 The less fill up the cry for punishment. 
 Yet still with pity they remember man; 
 And mourn as much as heavenly spirits can. 
 They ask, when those were lost of human birth, 
 What he would do with all his waste of earth ? 
 If his dispeopled world he would resign 
 To beasts, a mute, and more ignoble line ? 
 Neglected altars must no longer smoke, 
 If none were left to worship and invoke. 
 To whom the father of the gods replied : 
 " Lay that unnecessary fear aside : 
 Mine be the care new people to provide. 
 I will from wondrous principles ordain 
 A race unlike the first, and try my skill again." 
 
 Already had he tost the flaming brand, 
 And rolled the thunder in his spacious hand ; 
 Preparing to discharge on seas and land : 
 But stopt for fear, thus violently driven, 
 The sparks should catch his axletree of heaven. 
 Remembering, in the Fates, a time, when fire 
 Should to the battlements of heaven aspire, 
 And all his blazing worlds above should burn, 
 And all the inferior globe to cinders turn. \ 
 
292 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 His dire artillery thus dismist, lie bent 
 His thought to some securer punishment : 
 Concludes to pour a watery deluge down ; 
 And what he durst not burn, resolves to drown. 
 
 The Northern breath, that freezes floods, he binds ; 
 With all the race of cloud-dispelling winds : 
 The South he loost, who night and horror brings ; 
 And fogs are shaken from his flaggy wings. 
 From his divided beard two streams he pours ; 
 His head and rheumy eyes distil in showers. 
 With rain his robe and heavy mantle flow : 
 And lazy mists are lowering on his brow, 
 Still as he swept along, with his clencht fist, 
 He squeezed the clouds ; the imprisoned clouds resist 
 The skies, from pole to pole, with peals resound ; 
 And showers enlarged come pouring on the ground. 
 Then clad in colours of a various dye, 
 Junonian Iris breeds a new supply 
 To feed the clouds : impetuous rain descends ; 
 The bearded corn beneath the burden bends : 
 Defrauded clowns deplore their perisht grain ; 
 And the long labours of the year are vain. 
 
 Nor from his patrimonial heaven alone 
 Is Jove content to pour his vengeance down : 
 Aid from his brother of the sea he craves, 
 To help him with auxiliary waves. 
 The watery tyrant calls his brooks and floods, 
 Who roll from mossy caves, their moist abodes ; 
 And with perpetual urns his palace fill ; 
 To whom, in brief, he thus imparts his will. 
 
 " Small exhortation needs ; your powers employ ; 
 And this bad world (so Jove requires) destroy. 
 Let loose the reins to all your watery store : 
 Bear down the dams, and open every door." 
 
 The floods by nature enemies to land, 
 And proudly swelling with their new command, 
 Eemove the living stones that stopt their way, 
 And, gushing from their source, augment the sea. 
 Then, with his mace, their monarch struck the ground 
 With inward trembling earth received the wound ; 
 And rising streams a ready passage found. 
 The expanded waters gather on the plain, 
 They float the fields, and overtop the grain ; 
 
THE GIANTS' WAR. 293 
 
 Then rushing onwards with a sweepy sway, 
 Bear flocks, and folds, and labouring hinds away. 
 Nor safe their dwellings were ; for, sapt by floods, 
 Their houses fell upon their household gods. 
 The solid piles, too strongly built to fall, 
 High o'er their heads behold a watery wall. 
 Now seas and earth were in confusion lost ; 
 A world of waters, and without a coast. 
 
 One climbs a cliff ; one in his boat is borne, 
 And ploughs above, where late he sowed his corn. 
 Others o'er chimney-tops and turrets row, 
 And drop their anchors on the meads below ; 
 Or downward driven, they bruise the tender vine, 
 Or tost aloft, are knockt against a pine. 
 And where of late the kids had cropt the grass, 
 The monsters of the deep now take their place. 
 Insulting Nereids on the cities ride, 
 And wondering dolphins o'er the palace glide. 
 On leaves, and masts of mighty oaks they browse, 
 And their broad fins entagle in the boughs. 
 The frighted wolf now swims among the sheep ; 
 The yellow lion wanders in the deep : 
 His rapid force no longer helps the boar : 
 The stag swims faster than he ran before. 
 The fowls, long beating on their wings in vain, 
 Despair of land, and drop into the main. 
 Now hills and vales no more distinction know 
 And levelled nature lies opprest below. 
 The most of mortals perish in the flood, 
 The small remainder dies for want of food. 
 A mountain of stupendous height there stands 
 Betwixt the Athenian and Boeotian lands, 
 The bound of fruitful fields, while fields they were, 
 But then a field of waters did appear : 
 Parnassus is its name : whose forky rise 
 Mounts through the clouds, and mates the lofty skies. 
 High on the summit of this dubious cliff, 
 Deucalion wafting, moored his little skiff. 
 He with his wife were only left behind 
 Of perisht man ; they two were human kind. 
 The mountain-nymphs and Themis they adore, 
 And from her oracles relief implore. 
 The most upright of mortal man was he ; 
 
294 PUBLIUS 0V1DIUS NASO. 
 
 The most sincere and holy woman, she. 
 
 When Jupiter, surveying earth from high, 
 Beheld it in a lake of water lie, 
 That, where so many millions lately lived, 
 But two, the best of either sex, survived, 
 He loost the northern wmd ; fierce Boreas flies 
 To puff away the clouds, and purge the skies : 
 Serenely, while he blows, the vapours driven 
 Discover heaven to earth, and earth to heaven. 
 The billows fall, while Neptune lays his mace 
 On the rough sea, and smooths its furrowed face. 
 Already Triton, at his call, appears 
 Above the waves ; a Tyrian robe he wears ; 
 And in his hand a crooked trumpet bears. 
 The sovereign bids him peaceful sounds inspire, 
 And give the waves the signal to retire. 
 His writhen shell he takes, whose narrow vent 
 Grows by degrees into a large extent ; 
 Then gives it breath ; the blast, with doubling sound, 
 Buns the wide circuit of the world around. 
 The sun first heard it, in his early East, 
 And met the rattling echoes in the West. 
 The waters, listening to the trumpet's roar, 
 Obey the summons, and forsake the shore. 
 
 A thin circumference of land appears ; 
 And Earth, but not at once, her visage rears, 
 And peeps upon the seas from upper grounds : 
 The streams, but just contained within their bounds, 
 By slow degrees into their channels crawl ; 
 Arid earth increases as the waters fall. 
 In longer time the tops of trees appear, 
 Which mud on their dishonoured branches bear. 
 
 At length the world was all restored to view, 
 But desolate, and of a sickly hue : 
 Nature beheld herself and stood aghast, 
 A dismal desert, and a silent waste. 
 
 Which when Deucalion, with a piteous look, 
 Beheld, he wept, and thus to Pyrrha spoke : 
 " Oh wife, oh sister, oh of all thy kind 
 The best and only creature left behind, 
 By kindred, love, and now by dangers joined; 
 Of multitudes, who breathed the common air, 
 We two remain ; a species in a pair ; 
 
THE GIANTS' WAR. 295 
 
 The rest the seas have swallowed ; nor have we 
 
 E'en of this wretched life a certainty. 
 
 The clouds are still above ; and, while I speak, 
 
 A second deluge o'er our heads may break. 
 
 Should I be snatcht from hence and thou remain, 
 
 Without relief, or partner of thy pain, 
 
 How could'st thou such a wretched life sustain ? 
 
 Should I be left, and thou be lost, the sea, 
 
 That buried her I loved, should bury me. 
 
 Oh, could our father his old arts inspire, 
 
 And make me heir of his informing fire, 
 
 That so I might abolisht man retrieve, 
 
 And perisht people in new souls might live ! 
 
 But Heaven is pleased, nor ought we to complain, 
 
 That we, the examples of mankind remain." 
 
 He said : the careful couple join their tears, 
 And then invoke the gods, with pious prayers. 
 Thus in devotion having eased their grief, 
 From sacred oracles they seek relief : 
 And to Cephisus' brook their way pursue : 
 The stream was troubled, but the ford they knew. 
 With living waters in the fountain bred, 
 They sprinkle first their garments, and their head, 
 Then took the way which to the temple led. 
 The roofs were all defiled with moss and mire, 
 The desert altars void of solemn fire. 
 Before the gradual prostrate they adored, 
 The pavement kist ; and thus the saint implored. 
 " O righteous Themis, if the powers above 
 By prayers are bent to pity, and to love ; 
 If human miseries can move their mind ; 
 If yet they can forgive, and yet be kind ; 
 Tell how we may restore, by second birth, 
 Mankind, and people desolated earth. 
 Then thus the gracious goddess, nodding, said : 
 " Depart, and with your vestments veil your head : 
 And stooping lowly down, with loosened zones, 
 Throw each behind your backs your mighty mother's 
 
 bones." 
 Amazed the pair, and mute with wonder, stand, 
 Till Pyrrha first refused the dire command. 
 " Forbid it Heaven," said she, " that I should tear 
 Those holy relics from the sepulchre." 
 
296 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 They pondered the mysterious words again, 
 
 Tor some new sense : and long they sought in vain. 
 
 At length Deucalion cleared his cloudy brow, 
 
 And said : " The dark enigma will allow 
 
 A meaning, which, if well I understand, 
 
 From sacrilege will free the god's command : 
 
 This earth our mighty mother is, the stones 
 
 In her capacious body are her bones : 
 
 These we must cast behind." With hope, and fear, 
 
 The woman did the new solution hear : 
 
 The man diffides in his own augury, 
 
 And doubts the gods ; yet both resolve to try. 
 
 Decending from the mount, they first unbind 
 
 Their vests, and, veiled, they cast the stones behind 
 
 The stones (a miracle to mortal view, 
 
 But long tradition makes it pass for true) 
 
 Did first the rigour of their kind expel, 
 
 And suppled into softness as they fell ; 
 
 Then swelled, and, swelling, by degrees grew warm : 
 
 And took the rudiments of human form ; 
 
 Imperfect shapes, in marble such are seen ; 
 
 When the rude chisel does the man begin; 
 
 While yet the roughness of the stone remains, 
 
 Without the rising muscles, and the veins. 
 
 The sappy parts, and next resembling juice, 
 
 Were turned to moisture, for the body's use : 
 
 Supplying humours, blood, and nourishment : 
 
 The rest, too solid to receive a bent, 
 
 Converts to bones ; and what was once a vein, 
 
 Its former name and nature did retain. 
 
 By help of power Divine, in little space, 
 
 What the man threw assumed a manly face ; 
 
 And what the wife, renewed the female race, 
 
 Hence we derive our nature, born to bear, 
 
 Laborious life, and hardened into care. 
 
 The rest of animals from teeming earth, 
 Produced in various forms, received their birth. 
 The native moisture, in its close retreat, 
 Digested by the sun's ethereal heat, 
 As in a kindly womb, began to breed : 
 Then swelled, and quickened by the vital seed, 
 And some in less, and some in longer space, 
 Were ripened into form, and took a several face. 
 
THE GIANTS' WAR. 297 
 
 Thus when the Nile from Pharian fields is fled, 
 And seeks, with ebbing tides, his ancient bed, 
 The fat manure with heavenly fire is warmed, 
 And crusted creatures, as in wombs, are formed : 
 These, when they turn the glebe, the peasants find : 
 Some rude, and yet unfinisht in their kind : 
 Short of their limbs, a lame imperfect birth ; 
 One half alive, and one of lifeless earth. 
 
 For heat and moisture, when in bodies joined, 
 The temper that results from either kind, 
 Conception makes ; and fighting, till they mix, 
 Their mingled atoms in each other fix. 
 Thus Nature's hand the genial bed prepares 
 With friendly discord, and with fruitful wars. 
 
 From hence the surface of the ground with mud 
 And slime besmeared (the faeces of the flood) 
 Received the rays of heaven ; and sucking in 
 The seeds of heat, new creatures did begin : 
 Some were of several sorts produced before ; 
 But of new monsters earth created more. 
 Unwillingly, but yet she brought to light 
 Thee, Python, too, the wondering world to fright, 
 And the new nations, with so dire a sight. 
 So monstrous was his bulk, so large a space 
 Did his vast body and long train embrace : 
 Whom Phoebus basking on a bank espied ; 
 Ere now the god his arrows had not tried 
 But on the trembling deer, or mountain-goat ; 
 At this new quarry he prepares to shoot, 
 Though every shaft took place, he spent the store 
 Of his full quiver ; and 't was long before 
 The expiring serpent wallowed in his gore. 
 Then to preserve the fame of such a deed, 
 For Python slain, he Pythian games decreed, 
 Where noble youths for mastership should strive, 
 To quoit, to run, and steeds and chariots drive. 
 The prize was fame, in witness of renown, 
 An oaken garland did the victor crown. 
 The laurel was not yet for triumphs borne, 
 But every green alike by Phoebus worn 
 Did, with promiscuous grace, his flowing locks adorn. 
 — Translation of John Drtden. 
 
298 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 THE TRANSFORMATION OF DAPHNE INTO A 
 LAUREL. 
 
 The first and fairest of his loves was she, 
 Whom not blind fortune, but the dire decree 
 Of angry Cupid forced him to desire : 
 Daphne her name, and Peneus was her sire. 
 Swelled with the pride that new success attends, 
 He sees the stripling, while his bow he bends, 
 And thus insults him : " Thou lascivious boy, 
 Are arms like these for children to employ ? 
 Know, such achievements are my proper claim; 
 Due to my vigour and unerring aim : 
 Resistless are my shafts, and Python late, 
 In such a feathered death, has found his fate. 
 Take up thy torch, and lay my weapons by ; 
 With that the feeble souls of lovers fry." 
 To whom the son of Venus thus replied : 
 " Phoebus, thy shafts are sure on all beside ; 
 But mine on Phoebus : mine the fame shall be 
 Of all thy conquests, when I conquer thee." 
 
 He said, and soaring swiftly winged his flight ; 
 Nor stopt but on Parnassus' airy height. 
 Two different shafts he from his quiver draws ; 
 One to repel desire, and one to cause. 
 One shaft is pointed with refulgent gold, 
 To bribe the love, and make the lover bold ; 
 One blunt, and tipt with lead, whose base allay 
 Provokes disdain, and drives desire away. 
 The blunted bolt against the nymph he drest, 
 But with the sharp transfixt Apollo's breast. 
 
 The enamoured deity pursues the chase ; 
 The scornful damsel shuns his loathed embrace ; 
 In hunting beasts of prey her youth employs ; 
 And Phoebe rivals in her rural jo}^s. 
 With naked neck she goes, and shoulders bare, 
 And with a fillet binds her flowing hair. 
 By maDy suitors sought, she mocks their pains, 
 And still her vowed virginity maintains. 
 Impatient of a yoke, the name of bride 
 She shuns, and hates the joys she never tried. 
 On wilds and wood she fixes her desire : 
 
TRANSFORMATION OF DAPHNE. 299 
 
 Nor knows what youth and kindly love inspire. 
 
 Her father chides her oft : " Thou ow'st," says he, 
 
 "A husband to thyself, a son to me." 
 
 She, like a crime, abhors the nuptial bed : 
 
 She glows with blushes, and she hangs her head. 
 
 Then, casting round his neck her tender arms, 
 
 Soothes him with blandishments, and filial charms : 
 
 " Give me, my lord," she said, " to live and die 
 
 A spotless maid, without the marriage-tie. 
 
 'T is but a small request ; I beg no more 
 
 Than what Diana's father gave before." 
 
 The good old sire was softened to consent, 
 
 But said her wish would prove her punishment : 
 
 For so much youth, and so much beauty joined, 
 
 Opposed the state which her desires designed. 
 
 The god of light, aspiring to her bed, 
 Hopes what he seeks, with flattering fancies fed ; 
 And is by his own oracles misled. 
 And as in empty fields the stubble burns, 
 Or nightly travellers, when day returns, 
 Their useless torches on dry hedges throw, 
 That catch the flames, and kindle all the row ; 
 So burns the god, consuming in desire, 
 And feeding in his breast the fruitless fire. 
 Her well-turned neck he viewed (her neck was bare) 
 And on her shoulders her dishevelled hair : 
 " Oh, were it combed," said he, " with what a grace 
 Would every waving curl become her face ! " 
 He viewed her eyes, like heavenly lamps that shone j 
 He viewed her lips, too sweet to view alone, 
 Her taper fingers, and her panting breast ; 
 He praises all he sees, and for the rest, 
 Believes the beauties yet unseen are best. 
 Swift as the wind, the damsel fled away, 
 Nor did for these alluring speeches stay : 
 " Stay, nymph," he cried, " I follow, not a foe : 
 Thus from the lion trips the trembling doe ; 
 Thus from the wolf the frightened lamb removes, 
 And from pursuing falcons fearful doves ; 
 Thou shunn'st a god, and shunn'st a god that loves. 
 Ah, lest some thorn should pierce thy tender foot, 
 Or thou should'st fall in flying my pursuit ! 
 To sharp uneven ways thy steps decline ; 
 
300 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Abate thy speed, and I will bate of mine. 
 Yet think from whom thou dost so rashly fly; 
 Nor basely born, nor shepherd's swain am I. 
 Perhaps thou know'st not my superior state ; 
 And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate. 
 Me Claros, Delphos, Tenedos obey ; 
 These hands the Patareian sceptre sway. 
 The king of gods begot me : what shall be, 
 Or is, or ever was, in fate, I see. 
 Mine is the invention of the charming lyre ; 
 Sweet notes, and heavenly numbers I inspire. 
 Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart ; 
 But, ah, more deadly his, who pierced my heart ! 
 Medicine is mine ; what herbs and simples grow 
 In fields and forests, all their powers I know ; 
 And am the great physician called below. 
 Alas, that fields and forests can afford 
 No remedies to heal their love-sick lord ! 
 To cure the pains of love, no plant avails ; 
 And his own physic the physician fails." 
 
 She heard not half, so furiously she flies, 
 And on her ear the imperfect accent dies. 
 Fear gave her wings : and as she fled, the wind 
 Increasing spread her flowing hair behind ; 
 And left her legs and thighs exposed to view; 
 Which made the god more eager to pursue. 
 The god was young, and was too hotly bent 
 To lose his time in empty compliment : 
 But led by love, and fired by such a sight, 
 Impetuously pursued his near delight. 
 
 As when the impatient greyhound, slipt from far, 
 Bounds o'er the glebe, to course the fearful hare, 
 She in her speed does all her safety lay ; 
 And he with double speed pursues the prey ; 
 O'erruns her at the fitting turn, and licks 
 His chaps in vain, and blows upon the flix : 
 She 'scapes, and for the neighbouring covert strives, 
 And gaining shelter, doubts if yet she lives : 
 If little things with great we may compare, 
 Such was the god, and such the flying fair : 
 She, urged by fear, her feet did swiftly move, 
 But he more swiftly, who was urged by love. 
 He gathers ground upon her in the chase ; 
 
TRANSFORMATION OF DAPHNE. 301 
 
 Now breathes upon her hair, with nearer pace : 
 
 And just is fastening on the wisht embrace. 
 
 The nymph grew pale, and in a mortal fright, 
 
 Spent with the labour of so long a flight ; 
 
 And now despairing, cast a mournful look 
 
 Upon the streams of her paternal brook : 
 
 " Oh, help," she cried, " in this extremest need, 
 
 If water-gods are deities indeed : 
 
 Gape, Earth, and this unhappy wretch entomb : 
 
 Or change my form whence all my sorrows come ! " 
 
 Scarce had she finished, when her feet she found 
 
 Benumbed with cold, and fastened to the ground: 
 
 A filmy rind about her body grows, 
 
 Her hair to leaves, her arms extend to boughs : 
 
 The nymph is all into a laurel gone. 
 
 The smoothness of her skin remains alone. 
 
 Yet Phoebus loves her still, and casting round 
 
 Her bole his arms, some little warmth he found. 
 
 The tree still panted in the unfinisht part, 
 
 Not wholly vegetive, and heaved her heart. 
 
 He fixed his lips upon the trembling rind ; 
 
 It swerved aside, and his embrace declined. 
 
 To whom the god : " Because thou canst not be 
 
 My mistress, I espouse thee for my tree : 
 
 Be thou the prize of honour and renown ; 
 
 The deathless poet, and the poem, crown. 
 
 Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn, 
 
 And, after poets, be by victors worn. 
 
 Thou shalt returning Caesar's triumph grace ; 
 
 When pomps shall in a long procession pass : 
 
 Wreathed on the post before his palace wait ; 
 
 And be the sacred guardian of the gate : 
 
 Secure from thunder, and unharmed by Jove, 
 
 Unfading as the immortal powers above : 
 
 And as the locks of Phoebus are unshorn, 
 
 So shall perpetual green thy boughs adorn." 
 
 The grateful tree was pleased with what he said, 
 
 And shook the shady honours of her head. 
 
 — Translation of John Drtden. 
 
302 PUBLIUS OV1DIUS NASO. 
 
 BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. 
 
 From the Eighth Book of "The Metamorphoses." 
 
 Heaven's power is infinite : earth, air, and sea, 
 
 The manufacture mass, the making power obey : 
 
 By proof to clear your doubt ; in Phrygian ground 
 
 Two neighbouring trees, with walls encompast round, 
 
 Stand on a moderate rise, with wonder shown, 
 
 One a hard oak, a softer linden one : 
 
 I saw the place and them, by Pittheus sent 
 
 To Phrygian realms, my grandsire's government. 
 
 Not far from thence is seen a lake, the haunt 
 
 Of coots, and of the fishing cormorant : 
 
 Here Jove with Hermes came ; but in disguise 
 
 Of mortal men concealed their deities : 
 
 One laid aside his thunder, one his rod ; 
 
 And many toilsome steps together trod ; 
 
 For harbour at a thousand doors they knocked, 
 
 Not one of all the thousand but was locked. 
 
 At last an hospitable house they found, 
 
 An homely shed ; the roof, not far from ground, 
 
 Was thatcht with reeds and straw together bound. 
 
 There Baucis and Philemon lived, and there 
 
 Had lived long married, and a happy pair : 
 
 Now old in love ; though little was their store, 
 
 Inured to want, their poverty they bore, 
 
 Nor aimed at wealth, professing to be poor. 
 
 For master or for servant here to call, 
 
 Was all alike, where only two were all. 
 
 Command was none, where equal love was paid, 
 
 Or rather both commanded, both obeyed. 
 
 From lofty roofs the gods repulst before, 
 Now stooping, entered through the little door ; 
 The man (their hearty welcome first exprest) 
 A common settle drew for either guest, 
 Inviting each his weary limbs to rest. 
 But ere they sat, officious Baucis lays 
 Two cushions stuft with straw, the seat to raise ; 
 Coarse, but the best she had ; then takes the load 
 Of ashes from the hearth, and spreads abroad 
 The living coals, and, lest they should expire, 
 With leaves and barks she feeds her infant fire : 
 
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. 303 
 
 It smokes, and then with trembling breath she blows, 
 
 Till in a cheerful blaze the flames arose. 
 
 With brushwood and with chips she strengthens these, 
 
 And adds at last the boughs of rotten trees. 
 
 The fire thus formed, she sets the kettle on, 
 
 (Like burnisht gold the little seether shone). 
 
 Next took the coleworts which her husband got 
 
 From his own ground (a small well-watered spot) ; 
 
 She stript the stalks of all their leaves ; the best 
 
 She culled, and then with handy care she drest. 
 
 High o'er the hearth a chine of bacon hung; 
 
 Good old Philemon seized it with a prong, 
 
 And from the sooty rafter drew it down, 
 
 Then cut a slice, but scarce enough for one : 
 
 Yet a large portion of a little store, 
 
 Which for their sakes alone he wisht were more. 
 
 This in the pot he plunged without delay, 
 
 To tame the flesh, and drain the salt away. 
 
 The time between, before the fire they sat, 
 
 And shortened the delay by pleasing chat. 
 
 A beam there was, on which a beechen pail 
 Hung by the handle, on a driven nail : 
 This filled with water, gently warmed, they set 
 Before their guests ; in this they bathed their feet, 
 And after with clean towels dried their sweat. 
 This done, the host produced the genial bed, 
 Sallow the foot, the borders, and the stead, 
 Which with no costly coverlet they spread ; 
 But coarse old garments, yet such robes as these 
 They laid alone, at feasts, on holidays. 
 The good old housewife, tucking up her gown, 
 The table sets ; the invited gods lie down. 
 The trivet-table of a foot was lame, 
 A blot which prudent Baucis overcame, 
 Who thrust beneath the limping leg a sherd, 
 So was the mended board exactly reared : 
 Then rubbed it o'er with newly gathered mint ; 
 A wholesome herb, that breathed a grateful scent. 
 Pallas began the feast, where first was seen 
 The party-coloured olive, black and green ; 
 Autumnal cornels next in order served, 
 In lees of wine well pickled and preserved ; 
 A garden salad was the third supply, 
 
304 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Of endive, radishes, and succory; 
 
 Then curds and cream, the flower of country fare, 
 
 And new-laid eggs, which Baucis' busy care 
 
 Turned by a gentle fire, and roasted rare. 
 
 All these in earthenware were served to board ; 
 
 And, next in place, an earthen pitcher, stored 
 
 With liquor of the best the cottage could afford. 
 
 This was the table's ornament and pride, 
 
 "With figures wrought : like pages at his side 
 
 Stood beechen bowls ; and these were shining clean, 
 
 Varnisht with wax without, and lined within. 
 
 By this the boiling kettle had prepared, 
 
 Arid to the table sent the smoking lard ; 
 
 On which with eager appetite they dine, 
 
 A savoury bit, that served to relish wine : 
 
 The wine itself was suiting to the rest, 
 
 Still working in the must, and lately prest. 
 
 The second course succeeds like that before ; 
 
 Plums, apples, nuts, and, of their wintry store, 
 
 Dry figs and grapes, and wrinkled dates were set 
 
 In canisters, to enlarge the little treat : 
 
 All these a milk-white honeycomb surround, 
 
 Which in the- midst the country banquet crowned. 
 
 But the kind hosts their entertainment grace 
 
 With hearty welcome, and an open face ; 
 
 In all they did, you might discern with ease 
 
 A willing mind, and a desire to please. 
 
 Meantime the beechen bowls went round, and still, 
 Though often emptied, were observed to fill, 
 Filled without hands, and of their own accord 
 Ran without feet, and danced about the board. 
 Devotion seized the pair, to see the feast 
 With wine, and of no common grape, increast ; 
 And up they held their hands, and fell to prayer, 
 Excusing, as they could, their country fare. 
 One goose they had ('t was all they could allow) 
 A wakeful sentry, and on duty now, 
 Whom to the gods for sacrifice they vow : 
 Her, with malicious zeal, the couple viewed ; 
 She ran for life, and, limping, they pursued : 
 Full well the fowl perceived their bad intent, 
 And would not make- her master's compliment ; 
 But, persecuted, to the powers she flies, 
 
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. 305 
 
 And close between the legs of Jove she lies. 
 He, with a gracious ear, the suppliant heard, 
 And saved her life ; then what he was declared, 
 And owned the god. " The neighbourhood," said he, 
 " Shall justly perish for impiety : 
 You stand alone exempted ; but obey 
 With speed, and follow where we lead the way : 
 Leave these accurst ; and to the mountain's height 
 Ascend; nor once look backward in your flight." 
 
 They haste, and what their tardy feet denied, 
 The trusty staff (their better leg) supplied. 
 An arrow's flight they wanted to the top, 
 And there secure, but spent with travel, stop ; 
 Then turn their now no more forbidden eyes ; 
 Lost in a lake the floated level lies : 
 A watery desert covers all the plains, 
 Their cot alone, as in an isle remains : 
 Wondering with peeping eyes, while they deplore 
 Their neighbours' fate, and country now no more, 
 Their little shed, scarce large enough for two, 
 Seems, from the ground increast, in height and bulk to 
 
 grow. 
 A stately temple shoots within the skies : 
 The crotchets of their cot in columns rise : 
 The pavement polisht marble they behold, 
 The gates with sculpture graced, the spires and tiles of 
 gold. 
 
 Then thus the sire of gods, with looks serene, 
 " Speak thy desire, thou only just of men ; 
 And thou, woman, only worthy found 
 To be with such a man in marriage bound." 
 
 Awhile they whisper ; then, to Jove addrest, 
 Philemon thus prefers their joint request: 
 " We crave to serve before your sacred shrine, 
 And offer at your altars rites divine : 
 And since not any action of our life 
 Has been polluted with domestic strife, 
 We beg one hour of death ; that neither she 
 With widow's tears may live to bury me, 
 Nor weeping I, with withered arms, may bear 
 My breathless Baucis to the sepulchre." 
 
 The godheads sign their suit. They run their race 
 In the same tenor all the appointed space ; 
 
306 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Then, when their hour was come, while they relate 
 These past adventures at the temple-gate, 
 Old Baucis is by old Philemon seen 
 Sprouting with sudden leaves of sprightly green : 
 Old Baucis lookt where old Philemon stood, 
 And saw his lengthened arms a sprouting wood : 
 New roots their fastened feet begin to bind, 
 Their bodies stiffen in a rising rind : 
 Then, ere the bark above their shoulders grew, 
 They give and take at once their last adieu ; 
 At once, " Farewell, oh faithful spouse," they said ; 
 At once the encroaching rinds their closing lips invade. 
 Even yet, an ancient Tyanaean shows 
 A spreading oak, that near a linden grows ; 
 The neighbourhood confirm the prodigy, 
 Grave men, not vain of tongue, or like to lie. 
 I saw myself the garlands on their boughs, 
 And tablets hung for gifts of granted vows ; 
 And offering fresher up, with pious prayer, 
 " The good," said I, " are God's peculiar care, 
 And such as honour Heaven shall heavenly honour 
 share." 
 
 — Translation of John Dryden. 
 
 iESACUS TRANSFORMED INTO A CORMORANT. 
 
 From the Eleventh Book of "The Metamorphoses." 
 
 These some old man sees wanton in the air, 
 
 And praises the unhappy constant pair. 
 
 Then to his friend the long-neckt cormorant shows, 
 
 The former tale reviving others' woes : 
 
 " That sable bird," he cries, " which cuts the flood 
 
 With slender legs, was once of royal blood ; 
 
 His ancestors from mighty Tros proceed, 
 
 The brave Laomedon, and Ganymede, 
 
 (Whose beauty tempted Jove to steal the boy) 
 
 And Priam, hapless prince ! who fell with Troy : 
 
 Himself was Hector's brother, and had fate 
 
 But given this hopeful youth a longer date, 
 
 Perhaps had rivalled warlike Hector's worth, 
 
 Though on the mother's side of meaner birth; 
 
jESACUS transformed. 307 
 
 Pair Alyxothoe, a country maid, 
 Bare iEsacus by stealth in Ida's shade. 
 He fled the noisy town, and pompous court, 
 Loved the lone hills, and simple rural sport, 
 And seldom to the city would resort. 
 Yet he no rustic clownishness profest, 
 Nor was soft love a stranger to his breast : 
 The youth had long the nymph Hesperia wooed, 
 Oft through the thicket, or the mead pursued : 
 Her haply on her father's bank he spied, 
 While fearless she her silver tresses dried ; 
 Away she fled : not stags with half such speed, 
 Before the prowling wolf, scud o'er the mead ; 
 Not ducks, when they the safer flood forsake, 
 Pursued by hawks, so swift regain the lake. 
 As fast he followed in the hot career ; 
 Desire the lover winged, the virgin fear. 
 A snake unseen now pierced her heedless foot ; 
 Quick through the veins the venomed juices shoot: 
 She fell, and 'scaped by death his fierce pursuit. 
 Her lifeless body, frightened, he embraced, 
 And cried, " Not this I dreaded, but thy haste : 
 Oh, had my love been less, or less thy fear ! 
 The victory thus bought is far too dear. 
 Accursed snake ! yet I more cursed than he ! 
 He gave the wound ; the cause was given by me, 
 Yet none shall say, that unrevenged you died." 
 He spoke ; then climbed a cliff's o'erhanging side, 
 And, resolute, leapt on the foaming tide. 
 Thetys received him gently on the wave ; 
 The death he sought denied, and feathers gave. 
 Debarred the surest remedy of grief, 
 And forced to live, he curst the unaskt relief. 
 Then on his airy pinions upward flies, 
 And at a second fall successless tries : 
 The downy plume a quick descent denies. 
 Enraged, he often dives beneath the wave : 
 And there in vain expects to find a grave, 
 His ceaseless sorrow for the unhappy maid 
 Meagred his look, and on his spirits preyed. 
 Still near the sounding deep he lives ; his name 
 Prom frequent diving and emerging came. 
 
 — Translation of John Dktden. 
 
308 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 TO MAXIMUS. 
 
 Elegy II. 
 
 Maximus, great by name and great by kind, 
 
 Who gracest thy birth by thy noble minde, 
 
 For when that thou into the world didst come, 
 
 As if they meant to give thy birthright roome, 
 
 Three hundred Fabii in one day did fall, 
 
 That fatall day tooke not away them all. 
 
 Perhaps thou wouldst know from whom this letter sent. 
 
 Or else to know whose I am thou art bent. 
 
 What shall I doe ? When thou my name hast red, 
 
 I f eare thou wilt unwillingly proceede : 
 
 Yet if that any chance these lines to see, 
 
 I dare confesse that I writ them to thee, 
 
 And that my purpose therein was that I 
 
 Might so bewayle my owne sad misery, 
 
 And that I writ them to thee, I dare confesse, 
 
 To signifie to thee my own distresse, 
 
 Who though I doe confesse I worthy am 
 
 Of more punishment, I cannot more sustaine, 
 
 Dangers and enemies on each side come on me, 
 
 As if with my Country, safety were took from me ; 
 
 Who that their wounded enemies may fall, 
 
 Doe poyson their arrows with the vipers gall. 
 
 The horseman arm'd with these the walls beholds, 
 
 Like a Wolfe that walks round about sheepefolds, 
 
 When with a string of horses guts compact 
 
 He bends his bow, whose string is seldom slackt. 
 
 A showre of Arrowes from their Bows doth flye 
 
 And the gate can scarce keepe out the enemie. 
 
 The countries barren without leafe or tree, 
 
 And Winters joyned unto winters be. 
 
 Five winters I have beene in this estate, 
 
 Enduring cold, and striving with my fate. 
 
 My griefe is in continuall teares exprest, 
 
 And deadly dulnesse doth possesse my brest, 
 
 Happie was Mobe, for although that she, 
 
 The death of her children did behold and see, 
 
 Yet being chang'd into a stone thereby 
 
 She grew insensible of her misery. 
 
OVID'S DECEMBER VOYAGE TO EXILE. 309 
 
 Happy are you, who weeping for your brother 
 The Popler with his barke your face did cover, 
 But I cannot be chang'd to any tree, 
 And I doe wish in vaine a stone to be ! 
 
 — Translated by Wye Saltonstall (1639). 
 
 OVID'S DECEMBER VOYAGE TO EXILE. 
 
 "The Tristia." 
 
 Ay me, poore wretch, what watery Mountain es rise ! 
 
 You 'd think their lofty tops would touch the skies. 
 
 Streight lowly vallies stoope (when sea doth sunder) 
 
 You 'd think their bottornes reacht to hell or under. 
 
 Where ere I look, there 's nought but sky and water, 
 
 This swels w th waves and that w th stormes doth clatter, 
 
 The winds betweene them roare with hideous noise, 
 
 And waves demurre which hath the master-voyce. 
 
 For now blows Eurus from the purple East. 
 
 Now rises Zephyrus from the setting West. 
 
 Now rages Boreas from the Northern Beare. 
 
 Now Notus warres with him from Southern spheare. 
 
 The Pilot doubtfull what to shun or chuse, 
 
 Ambiguous mischiefes make his Art to muse. 
 
 Dead men we are : all hope of safeties gone. 
 
 Even whilst I speake the waves orewhelme my mone. 
 
 They '11 drowne my soule, and while my mouth doth pray, 
 
 Thereby the deadly water finds a way. 
 
 My loving wife, naught save mine exile wayles, 
 
 She neither grieves nor knows my other ayles. 
 
 She little thinkes Ime tost on vastest maine, 
 
 Hurried with winds ; still ready to be slaine. 
 
 'T was well I did not suffer her to goe, 
 
 Then had I borne a double deadly blow. 
 
 Now, though I perish, yet (since she is safe) 
 
 I shall outlive my death at least one halfe. 
 
 Woes me, what flashing lights from heaven do spring. 
 
 What crackes of thunder from the skies doe ring ! 
 
 And on our shippe the floting billowes falles 
 
 Like canon bullets on besieged walles ; 
 
 Each following wave the former still exceede, 
 
 As if it were a tenth of greatest Meede. 
 
310 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 I feare not death, but yet this kinde is hatefull, 
 
 Bate ine but shipwracke, death shall be most gratefull. 
 
 Whether on 's fair or o' th' sword one dye, 
 
 Some comfort 'tis upon firme land to lye, 
 
 To make one's will and looke to be interred 
 
 And not in fishes bowels to lye buried. 
 
 Yet say such death I merit, why should those 
 
 Innocent soules i' th' shippe my fate inclose ? 
 
 — Translation of Zachary Catlin (1639). 
 
 COMPLIANCE. 
 
 "The Art of Love." 
 
 Indulgence soon takes with a Noble Mind : 
 
 Who can be harsh that sees another kind ? 
 
 Most times the greatest Art is to comply 
 
 In granting that which Justice might deny. 
 
 We form our tender Plants by soft Degrees, 
 
 And from a warping Stem raise stately Trees. 
 
 To cut th' opposing Waves we strive in vain ; 
 
 But if we rise with 'em, and fall again, 
 
 The wish'd-for Land with Ease we may attain. 
 
 Such Complaisance will a rough Humour bend, 
 
 And yielding to one Failure save a Friend. 
 
 Mildness and Temper have a Force Divine 
 
 To make ev'n Passion with their Nature join. 
 
 The Hawk we hate, as living still in Arms, 
 
 And Wolves assiduous in the Shepherds Harms. 
 
 The Sociable Swallow has no Fears : 
 
 Upon our Tow'rs the Dove her Nest prepares, 
 
 And both of them live free from Human Snares. 
 
 Far from loud Rage and ecchoing Noise of Fights 
 
 The softest Love in gentle sound delights. 
 
 Smooth Mirth, bright Smiles, calm Peace, and flowing Joy 
 
 Are the Companions of the Paphian Boy. 
 
 Such as when Hymen first his Mantle spread 
 
 All o'er the sacred Down which made the Bridal Bed. 
 
 These Blandishments keep Love upon the Wing, 
 
 His Presence fresh and. always in the Spring. 
 
 This makes a Prospect endless to the view, 
 
 With Light that rises still, and still is new. 
 
MUSIC AND POETRY. 311 
 
 At your approach, find ev'ry thing serene, 
 
 Like Paplws honour'd by the Cyprian Queen, 
 
 Who brings along her Daughter Harmony, 
 
 With Muses sprang from Jove and Graces Three. 
 
 Birds shot by you, Fish by your Angle caught, 
 
 The Golden Apples from Hesperia brought, 
 
 The blushing Peach, the fragrant Nectareens, 
 
 Laid in fresh Beds of Flowers and Scented Greens, 
 
 Fair Lillies strow'd with bloody Mulberries, 
 
 Or Grapes whose Juice made Bacchus reach the skies, 
 
 May oftentimes a grateful Present make 
 
 Not for the Value, but the Giver's sake. 
 
 — Imitation of W. King (1700). 
 
 MUSIC AND POETRY. 
 
 " The Art of Love." 
 
 Virgins should not unskill'd in Musick be ; 
 For what's more like themselves than Harmony! 
 Let not Vice use it only to betray, 
 And Sirens by their Songs entice their Prey. 
 Let it with Sense, with Voice and Beauty join, 
 Grateful to Eyes and Ear, and to the Mind divine 
 For there's a double Grace when pleasing strings 
 Are touch'd by Her that more delightful sings. 
 Thus Orpheus did the Bage of Deserts quell, 
 And charm'd the monstrous Instruments of Hell. 
 New Walls to Thebes Amphion thus began, 
 Whilst to the Work officious Marble ran. 
 Thus with his Harp and Voice Avion rode 
 On the mute Fish safe through the rolling Flood. 
 
 Nor are the Essays of the Female Wit 
 Less charming in the Verses they have writ. 
 From antient Ages Love has found the way 
 Its bashful Thoughts by Letters to convey ; 
 Which sometimes run in such engaging strain, 
 That Pity makes the Fair write back again. 
 What 's thus intended some small time delay : 
 His Passion strengthens rather by your stay. 
 
312 PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO. 
 
 Then with a cautious Wit your Pen withhold, 
 Lest a too free expression make him bold. 
 Create a Mixture 'twixt his Hope and Fear, 
 And in Reproof let Tenderness appear. 
 As he deserves it give him hopes of Life : 
 A cruel Mistress makes a froward Wife. 
 
 — Imitation of W. King (1700). 
 
 CONSOLATION IN VERSE. 
 
 "The Tristia." 
 
 " Study the mournful hours away, 
 Lest in dull sloth thy spirit pine." 
 
 Hard words thou writest : verse is gay, 
 And asks a lighter heart than mine. 
 
 No calms my stormy life beguile, 
 Than mine can be no sadder chance ; 
 
 You bid bereaved Priam smile, 
 And Niobe the childless dance. 
 
 In grief or study more my part, 
 
 Whose life is doomed to wilds like these, 
 Though you should make my feeble heart 
 
 Strong with the strength of Socrates. 
 
 Such ruin would crush wisdom down ; 
 
 Stronger than man is wrath divine. 
 That sage whom Phoebus gave the crown 
 
 Never could write in grief like mine. 
 
 Can I my land and thee forget, 
 
 Nor the felt sorrow wound my breast ? 
 
 Say that I can — but foes beset 
 This place and rob me of all rest. 
 
 Add that my mind hath rusted now 
 And fallen far from what it was. 
 
 The land though rich that lacks the plough 
 Is barren, save of thorns and grass. 
 
DANGER OF HAPPINESS. 313 
 
 The horse that long hath idle stood, 
 
 Is soon o'ertaken in the race ; 
 And, torn from its familiar flood, 
 
 The chinky pinnace rots apace. 
 
 Nor hope that I, before but mean, 
 
 Can to my former self return. 
 Long sense of ills hath burned my brain ; 
 
 Half the old fires no longer burn. 
 
 Yet oft I take the pen and try, 
 
 As now to build the measured rime. 
 
 Words come not, or, as meet thine eye, 
 Words worthy of their place and time. 
 
 Last, glory cheers the heart that fails 
 And love of praise inspires the mind — 
 
 I followed once Fame's star, my sails 
 Filled with a favourable wind. 
 
 But now 't is not so well with me, 
 
 To care if Fame be lost or won. 
 Nay, but I would, if that might be, 
 
 Live all unknown beneath the sun. 
 
 — Translation of Philip Stanhope Worslbt. 
 
 DANGER OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 That mind is soonest caught which springs with mirth : 
 
 Like come which riots on the lusty earth. 
 
 The heart, that ? s free from sorrow, open lies 
 
 To Venus arts, and flattering loues surprise. 
 
 Sad Ilium repell'd the Grraecian force : 
 
 But full of ioy, receau'd the fatall horse. 
 
 — Translation of George Sandys (1632). 
 
MAKCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS. 
 
 Martial, the epigrammatist, was born at Bilbilis, in 
 Spain, in the year 43 a.d. He proceeded to Eome in the 
 thirteenth year of Nero's reign. For thirty-five years he 
 lived in the capital, succeeding apparently by means of 
 his wits and his cleverness in flattery in acquiring a hand- 
 some mansion in the city and a villa near Nomentum. 
 The emperors Titus and Domitian granted him their fa- 
 vour. His poems, which were marked by keen wit, though 
 twenty per cent of them are extremely gross and licen- 
 tious, were popular all over the Roman world. He thus 
 acquired the rank of tribune and the rights of the eques- 
 trian order, and though he was childless he was granted the 
 privileges of one who had three children. In 100 he re- 
 turned to Bilbilis and lived on the estate of his wife, Mar- 
 cella. The date of his death is not known. His extant 
 works consist of about fifteen hundred "Epigrams" 
 divided into fourteen books. He was the first to restrict 
 the term epigram, which was originally an inscription, to 
 a short poem ending in a sharp point. The value of his 
 work consists largely in the light which his verses throw 
 on the manner and customs of the Eomans in the first 
 century after Christ. They abound also in interesting 
 historical allusions. The " Liber de Spectaculis " relates 
 to the shows given by Titus and Domitian. The first 
 nine books were written in Eome — except the third, 
 which was composed during a tour in northern Italy. 
 The tenth, which was twice published, celebrates Trajan's 
 arrival in Eome. The eleventh marks Martial's last year 
 in Italy. The twelfth was probably composed after his 
 return to Spain. The last two, entitled "Xenia and 
 Apophoreta" contain three hundred and fifty distichs, 
 describing a variety of small objects such as were given 
 to friends during the Saturnalia, corresponding to Christ- 
 mas presents in our day. Of his own works he made 
 
 314 
 
A HAPPY LIFE. 315 
 
 this criticism: "Some are good, some are mediocre, 
 more are bad." 
 
 TO A BOASTER. 
 
 Fine lectures Attalus rehearses ; 
 
 Pleads finely ; writes fine tales and verses ; 
 
 Fine epigrams, fine farces vie 
 
 With grammar and astrology ; 
 
 He finely sings and dances finely ; 
 
 Plays tennis ; fiddles most divinely ; 
 
 All finely done — and nothing well : 
 
 Then, if a man the truth may tell, 
 
 This all-accomplisht Punchinello 
 
 Is a most busy, idle fellow. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 A HAPPY LIFE. 
 
 What makes the happiest life below 
 A few plain rules, my friend, will show. 
 A good estate, not earned with toil, 
 But left by will or given by Fate ; 
 A land of no ungrateful soil ; 
 A constant fire within your grate ; 
 No law ; few cares ; a quiet mind ; 
 Strength unimpared ; a healthful frame ; 
 Wisdom with innocence combined ; 
 Friends, equal both in years and fame ; 
 Your living easy, and your board 
 With food, but not with luxury stored ; 
 A bed, though chaste, not solitary ; 
 Sound sleep to shorten night's dull reign; 
 Wish nothing that is yours to vary ; 
 Think all enjoyments that remain: 
 And, for the inevitable hour, 
 Nor hope it night, nor dread its power. 
 
 — Translation of Charles Merivale. 
 
316 MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS. 
 
 TO A FOP. 
 
 They tell me, Cotilus, that you 're a beau : 
 
 What this is, Cotilus, I wish to know. 
 
 " A beau is one who, with the nicest care, 
 
 In parted locks divides his curling hair ; 
 
 One who with balm and cinnamon smells sweet ; 
 
 Whose humming lips some Spanish air repeat ; 
 
 Whose naked arms are smoothed with pumice-stone, 
 
 And tost about with graces all his own : 
 
 A beau is one who takes his constant seat, 
 
 From morn till evening, where the ladies meet ; 
 
 And ever, on some sofa hovering near, 
 
 Whispers some nothing in some fair-one's ear ; 
 
 Who scribbles thousand billets-doux a day ; 
 
 Still reads and scribbles ; seals and sends away. 
 
 A beau is one who shrinks, if nearly prest 
 
 By the coarse garment of a neighbour guest ; 
 
 Who knows who flirts with whom, and still is found 
 
 At each good table in successive round ; 
 
 A beau is one — none better knows than he 
 
 A race-horse and his noble pedigree — " 
 
 Indeed ? — why, Cotilus, if this be so, 
 
 What teasing, trifling thing is called a beau. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 EVIL TIMES. 
 
 " Oh times ! O manners ! n Tully cried of old ; 
 
 When Catiline in impious plots grew bold : 
 
 When in fell arms the son and father stood, 
 
 And the sad earth reekt red with civil blood : 
 
 Why now — why now " O times ! O manners ! " cry ? 
 
 What is it now that shocks thy purity ? 
 
 !No sword now maddens, and no chiefs destroy, 
 
 But all is peace, security, and joy : 
 
 These times, these manners, that so vile are grown, 
 
 Prithee, Caecilian, are they not thine own ? 
 
SHOPPING IN ANCIENT DAYS. 317 
 
 LIKENESS AND UNLIKENESS. 
 
 Yes, I am poor, Callistratus ! I own ; 
 And so was ever ; yet not quite unknown, 
 Graced with a knight's degree ; nor this alone : 
 But through the world my verse is frequent sung ; 
 And " That is he ! " sounds buzzed from every tongue : 
 Aud what to few, when dust, the Fates assign, 
 In bloom and freshness of my days is mine. 
 Thy ceilings on a hundred columns rest ; 
 Wealth, as of upstart freeman, bursts thy chest ; 
 Nile flows in fatness o'er thy ample fields ; 
 Cisalpine Gaul thy silky fleeces yields : 
 Lo ! such thou art, and such am I : like me, 
 Callistratus ! thou canst not hope to be : 
 A hundred of the crowd resemble thee ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 SHOPPING IN ANCIENT DAYS. 
 
 Mamurua many hours does vagrant tell 
 
 F th' shops, where Rome her richest wares does sell. 
 
 Beholds fair slaves, devours them with his eyes — 
 
 Not those of common note one first espies, 
 
 But which in inner rooms they closely mew, 
 
 Eemoved from mine and from the people's view. 
 
 Glutted with these, choice tables he uncases, 
 
 Others of ivory, set high, displaces. 
 
 Bich tortoise beds he measures four times o'er, 
 
 Sighs they fit not, and leaves them on that score. 
 
 Consults the statues of Corinthian brass 
 
 By the scent ; and not without blame lets pass 
 
 Thy pieces, Polyclet. He next complains 
 
 Of crystals mixt with glass, and them disdains. 
 
 Marks porcelain cups, sets ten of them apart ; 
 
 Weighs antique plate (of Mentor's noble art 
 
 If any be) ; counts, i' the enamelled gold, 
 
 The gems that stand. Eich pendants does behold ; 
 
 For the sardonyx makes a search most nice, 
 
 And of the biggest jaspers beats the price. 
 
 Tired now at last, after eleven hours' stay, 
 
 Two farthing pots he buys and bears himself away ! 
 
318 MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS. 
 
 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 When Fannius from his foe did fly, 
 Himself with his own hands he slew ; 
 Whoe'er a greater madness knew? 
 Life to destroy for fear to die. 
 
 HASTA MANANA! 
 
 To-morrow you will live, you always cry ; 
 In what far country does this Morrow lie ? 
 That ? t is so mighty long ere it arrive ? 
 Beyond the Indies does this Morrow live ? 
 ? T is so far-fetcht, this Morrow, that I fear 
 'T will be both very old and very dear. 
 To-morrow I will live, the fool doth say ; 
 To-day itself ? s too late — the wise lived yesterday ! 
 — Translation of Abraham Cowley. 
 
 A CONTRADICTION. 
 
 In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, 
 Thou 'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow ; 
 Hast so much wit and mirth, and spleen about thee, 
 There is no living with thee or without thee ! 
 
 — Translation of John Addison. 
 
 COMPENSATION. 
 
 The girl that was to ear and sight 
 More soft of tone, of skin more white 
 Than plumaged swans that yield in death 
 The sweetest murmur of their breath ; 
 
A HINTED WISH. 319 
 
 Smooth as Galesus' soft-fleeced flocks ; 
 
 Dainty as shells on Lucrine rocks ; 
 
 Unsullied lilies ; virgin snow ; 
 
 Whose locks were tipt with ruddy gold, 
 
 Like wool that clothes the Baetic fold ; 
 
 Like braided hair of girls of Ehine ; 
 
 As tawny field-mouse sleek and fine ; 
 
 Whose vermeil mouth breathed Paestum's rose ; 
 
 Or balm fresh honeycombs disclose ; 
 
 Or amber yielding odour sweet 
 
 From the chafing hand's soft heat ; 
 
 By whom the peacock was not fair ; 
 
 Nor squirrels pets, nor phoenix rare ; 
 
 Erotion crumbles in her urn ; 
 
 Warm from the pile her ashes burn, 
 
 Ere yet had closed her sixteenth year 
 
 The Fates accurst have spread her bier; 
 
 And with her all I doted on — 
 
 My loves, my joys, my sports, are gone ! 
 
 Yet Paetus, who like me distrest, 
 Is fain to beat his mourning breast, 
 And tear his hair beside a grave, 
 Asks, " Blush you not to mourn a slave ? 
 I mourn a high, rich, noble wife : 
 And yet I bear my lot in life ! " 
 
 Thy fortitude exceeds all bounds : 
 Thou hast two hundred thousand pounds; 
 Thou bear'st — 't is true — thy lot of life : 
 Thou bear'st the jointure of thy wife ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 A HINTED WISH. 
 
 You told me, Maro, whilst you live 
 You 'd not a single penny give, 
 But that, whene'er you chanct to die, 
 You 'd leave a handsome legacy : 
 You must be mad beyond redress, 
 If my next wish you cannot guess ! 
 
 — Translation of Samuel Johnson. 
 
320 MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS. 
 
 HONEST POVERTY. 
 
 You, sprucely clothed, laugh at my threadbare gownj 
 'T is threadbare truly, Zoilus, but my own ! 
 
 — Translation of Wright. 
 
 THE EPIGRAM. 
 
 You little know what epigram contains, 
 Who deem it but a jest in jocund strains. 
 He rather jokes, who writes what horrid meat 
 The plagued Thyestes and vext Tereus eat ; 
 Or tells who robed the boy with melting wings ; 
 Or of the shepherd Polyphemus sings. 
 Our Muse disdains by fustian to excel, 
 By rant to rattle or in buskins swell. 
 Though turgid themes all men admire, adore, 
 Be well assured they read my poems more. 
 
 TO AN HEIRLESS MISER. 
 
 Thieves may break locks and with your cash retire, 
 Your ancient seat may be consumed with fire, 
 Debtors refuse to pay you what they owe, 
 A barren field destroy the seed you sow ; 
 You may be plundered of the girl you prize, 
 Your ships may sink with all their merchandise ; 
 But he who gives — so much from Fate secures — 
 That is the only wealth forever yours. 
 
 A PARADOX. 
 
 He fawns for more though he his thousands own : 
 Fortune gives some too much, enough to none. 
 
THE POVERTY OF POETRY. 321 
 
 TO A MAN WHO HAD BURIED HIS SEVENTH 
 WIFE. 
 
 Seven wives ! and in one grave ! There is not found 
 On the whole globe a richer spot of ground ! 
 
 ON A QUARRELLING COUPLE. 
 
 When you so well agree in life, 
 The vilest husband, vilest wife, 
 'T is strange that you should live in strife. 
 
 A CBEDIT COAT. 
 
 Gay Bassus for ten thousand bought 
 A Tyrian robe of rich array, 
 
 And was a gainer. How ? Be taught 
 The prudent Bassus did not pay ! 
 
 THE POVERTY OF POETRY. 
 
 Though midst the noblest poets thou hast place, 
 
 Flaccus, the offspring of Antenor's race ; 
 
 Renounce the Muses' songs and charming choir, 
 
 For none of them enrich though they inspire. 
 
 Court not Apollo ; Pallas has the gold, 
 
 She 's wise and does the gods in mortgage hold. 
 
 What profit is there in an ivy wreath ? 
 
 Its fruits the loaden olive sink beneath. 
 
 In Helicon there 's naught but springs and bays, 
 
 The Muses' harps loud-sounding, empty praise. 
 
 What with Parnassus' strains hast thou to do ? 
 
 The Roman forum 's rich and nearer too. 
 
 There chinks the cash, but round the poet's chair 
 
 The smacks of kisses only fill the air. 
 
LUCIUS ANN-ffiUS SENECA. 
 
 Seneca, the famous philosopher, was born at Corduba, 
 in Spain, a few years before the Christian era. His parents 
 belonged to the equestrian order and were rich. His father 
 was a rhetorician, and remains of several of his oratorical 
 works have come down to us. Seneca was brought to Rome 
 when a child, and though of feeble constitution was a de- 
 voted student. He became an able advocate, and excited 
 the hatred of Caligula by reason of his skill in pleading 
 a case in the senate. In 41 a.d. he was banished to Cor- 
 sica by the Emperor Claudius on account of his intimacy 
 with the emperor's niece, Julia. Seneca avenged himself 
 by writing a satire entitled " Apocolocyntosis," which 
 has been interpreted as "the pumpkinsicationer recep- 
 tion of Claudius among the pumpkins." After eight 
 years' residence in Corsica he was recalled, and through 
 the influence of Agrippina, who had married her uncle, 
 Claudius, he was made praetor and appointed tutor 
 to the young Domitius, her son by a former husband, 
 Domitius. When the youth became emperor under the 
 name of Nero, Seneca was for a time one of his chief 
 advisers. He exerted his influence to restrain the vicious 
 tendencies that continually cropped out, but he also used 
 his position to accumulate an immense fortune. After 
 a while, Seneca's virtues began to become irksome and 
 his wealth an attraction to Nero. His discontent was 
 fomented by unfriendly members of the praetorian guard. 
 Seneca heard that he was charged with disparaging the 
 emperor's skill in driving and singing, with boasting of 
 his own superiority in eloquence, and went to Nero and 
 offered him his houses and his gardens, which were the 
 most magnificent in Rome. Nero pretended to refuse 
 the gift, and sent him away with assurances of his re- 
 spect and gratitude. Seneca altered his mode of life, saw 
 little company, and kept out of the city. But the con- 
 spiracy of Piso in 65 gave Nero the desired pretext to 
 get rid of his old teacher. He ordered him to commit 
 
 322 
 
THE THREE FATES. 323 
 
 suicide. Seneca obeyed without a murmur. After vainly- 
 trying to die by opening a vein, then by taking hemlock, 
 he was suffocated in a vapour stove. He published a large 
 number of philosophical and scientific works, letters, and 
 essays. He was a stoic in philosophy, as was proved by 
 the manner of his death. Among the many works which 
 have come down to us are ten tragedies, all of which, with 
 the exception of the " Octavia," are taken from mytho- 
 logical subjects. They were not meant for acting, but as 
 they abound in fine philosophy and in dignified poetry, 
 have always been highly regarded by scholars. 
 
 OCTOBER 
 "The Apocoloctntosis." 
 
 Now was come the season when Phoebus had narrowed 
 the daylight, 
 
 Shortening his journey, while sleep's dim hours were left 
 to grow longer; 
 
 Now victorious Cynthia was widening the bounds of her 
 kingdom ; 
 
 Ugly-faced "Winter was snatching away the rich glories 
 of Autumn, 
 
 So that the tardy vintager, seeing that Bacchus was 
 aging, 
 
 Hastily, here and there, was plucking the clusters for- 
 gotten. 
 
 — Translation of Allan Perlby Ball. 
 (By courteous permission.) 
 
 THE THKEE FATES. 
 
 " The Apocoloctntosis." 
 
 Claudius began to give up the ghost, but couldn't find 
 a way out for it. Then Mercury, who had always had a 
 fancy for his character, led aside one of the Three Fates 
 and said : " Why, hard-hearted woman, do you let the 
 wretched man be tormented ? Isn't he ever to rest, after 
 being tortured so long ? It is the sixty-fourth year that 
 he has been afflicted with life. . . . Give him over to 
 death : let a better man reign in his palace." 
 
824 LUCIUS ANNdSUS SENECA. 
 
 But Clotho remarked, " I swear I intended to give him 
 a trifle more time, till lie should make citizens out of the 
 few that are left outside — for he had made up his mind 
 to see everybody, Greeks, Gauls, SpaDiards, Britons, 
 wearing togas. However, since it is perhaps a good thing 
 to have a few foreigners left as a nucleus, and since you 
 wish it, it shall be attended to." Then she opened a 
 bandbox and brought out three spindles ; one was that of 
 Augurinus, the next was Baba's, the third Claudius'. " I 
 will have these three die at short intervals within a year," 
 she said, " and not send him off unattended. For it isn't 
 right that one who has been in the habit of seeing so 
 many thousands of people following him about, going 
 ahead of him and all around him, should all of a sudden 
 be left alone. For a while he will be satisfied with these 
 boon companions." 
 
 Thus having spoken she wound up the thread on his 
 
 spindle neglected, 
 Breaking off the royal days of his stupid existence. 
 Lachesis, waiting, meanwhile, with tresses charmingly 
 
 ordered, 
 Crowning the locks on her brow with a wreath of Pierian 
 
 laurel, 
 Drew from a snowy fleece white strands, which, cleverly 
 
 fashioned, 
 Under her artful fingers began with new colours to 
 
 glisten : — 
 Spun to a thread that drew the admiring gaze of her sisters. 
 Changed was the common wool, until as a metal most 
 
 precious, 
 Golden the age that was winding down in that beautiful 
 
 fillet. 
 Ceaselessly they too laboured ; and bringing the finest of 
 
 fleeces, 
 Gayly they filled her hands, for sweet was the duty 
 
 allotted. 
 She in her eagerness, hastened the work, nor was con- 
 scious of effort; 
 Lightly the soft strands fell from the whirling point of 
 
 her spindle, 
 Passing the life of Tithonus, passing the lifetime of 
 
 iSTestor. 
 
THE THREE FATES. 325 
 
 Phoebus came with his singing, and, happy in anticipation, 
 Joyously plied the plectrum, or aided the work of the 
 
 spinners : 
 Kept their hearts intent, with his song beguiling their 
 
 labour. 
 While beyond thought they rejoiced in their brother's 
 
 music, their hands spun, 
 Busily twining a destiny passing all human allotment, 
 Wrought through the spell of Phoebus' lyre and his 
 
 praise, as he bade them : 
 " Stay not your hands, O Fateful Sisters, but make him 
 
 a victor 
 Over the barriers that limit the common lifetime of mor- 
 tals; 
 Let him be blest with a grace and a beauty like mine, 
 
 and in music 
 Grant him no meaner gifts. An age of joy shall he bring 
 
 men 
 Weary for laws that await his restoring. Like Lucifer 
 
 comes he, 
 Putting the scattered stars to flight, or like Hesper at 
 
 nightfall, 
 Rising when stars return ; or e'en as the sun, — when 
 
 Aurora 
 First has dispelled the dark and blushingly led forth the 
 
 Morning, — 
 Brightly gleams on the world and renews his chariot's 
 
 journey, 
 So cometh Caesar; so in his glory shall Rome behold 
 
 Nero. 
 Thus do his radiant features gleam with a gentle effulgence, 
 Graced by the flowing locks that fall encircling his 
 
 shoulders." 
 Thus Apollo, but Lachesis, who herself too had a fondness 
 
 for the handsomest of men, wrought with generous 
 
 hand, and bestowed upon Nero many years from her 
 
 own store. As for Claudius, however, everybody 
 
 gave orders 
 With joy and great content to send him out of doors, 
 And, indeed, he did go up the flume, and from that mo- 
 ment ceased to appear to be alive. 
 
 — Translation of Allan Perlet Ball. 
 (By courteous permission. ) 
 
326 LUCIUS ANNjEUS SENECA. 
 
 A MOCK DIRGE ON THE EMPEROR CLAUDIUS. 
 
 "The Apocolocyntosis." 
 
 Pour forth your tears, lift up wof ul voices, 
 Let the Forum echo with sorrowful cries. 
 Nobly has fallen a man most sagacious, 
 Than whom no other ever was braver, 
 Not in the whole world. 
 He in the quick-sped race could be victor 
 Over the swiftest ; he could rebellious 
 Parthian s scatter, chase with his flying 
 Missiles the Persian, steadiest-handed, 
 Bend back the bow which, driving the foeman 
 Headlong in flight, should pierce him afar, while 
 Gay-coated Medes turned their backs to disaster. 
 Conqueror he of Britons beyond the 
 Shores of the known sea: 
 Even the dark-blue-shielded Brigantes 
 Eorced he to bend their necks to the fetters 
 That Romulus forged, and Ocean himself 
 To tremble before the Roman dominion. 
 Mourn for the man than whom no one more quickly 
 Was able to see the right in a lawsuit, 
 Only at hearing one side of the quarrel, — 
 Often not either. Where is the judge now 
 Willing to listen to cases the year through ? 
 Thou shalt be given the office resigned thee 
 By him who presides in the court of the shades, 
 The lord of a hundred cities Cretsean. 
 Smite on your breasts, ye shysters forsaken, 
 With hands of despair, bribe-taking crew ; 
 Ye too, half-fledged poets, now should bewail ; 
 And ye above all, who lately were able 
 To gather great gains by shaking the dica-box. 
 
 — Translation of Allan Perley Ball. 
 (By courteous permission.) 
 
CHORUS. 327 
 
 CHOEUS. 
 
 "Hercules Furens." 
 
 The fading starres now shyne but seelde in sighte 
 
 In stipye skye, night ouercome with day 
 
 Plucks in her fyres, while spronge agayne is light. 
 
 The day starre draws the eleresome beames their waye; 
 
 The ycye sign of haughty e poale agayne, 
 
 With seuen starres markt, the Beares of Arcadye, 
 
 Do call the light with ouerturned wayne. 
 
 With marble horse now drawne, hys waye to hye 
 
 Doth Titan toppe of OEtha ouer spred 
 
 The bushes bright that nowe with berryes bee 
 
 Of Thebes strewde, by day do blushe full redde. 
 
 And to returne doth Phoebus syster flee. 
 
 Now labor harde beginnes, and euery kynde 
 
 Of cares it styrres, the shepehearde doth vnf olde : 
 
 His vnpende, do grase their f oode to fynde, 
 
 And nippes the grasse with hoary frost full colde. 
 
 At will doth play in open medow faire 
 
 The Calfe whose brow did damme yet neuer teare, 
 
 The empty kyne their vdders doe repayre. 
 
 And lyght with course vncertayne here and there, 
 
 In grasse full soft the wanton kidde hee flynges. 
 
 In toppe of boughe doth sitte with chaunting songe, 
 
 And to the Sunne newe rose to spreade her wynges, 
 
 Bestirres herselfe her mournful nestes amonge 
 
 The Mghtingall : and doth with byrdes aboute 
 
 Confuse resound with murmure mixed ryfe 
 
 To witnes day, his sayles to wynde set out 
 
 The shypman doth committe in doubt of lyfe. 
 
 Whyle gale of wynde the slacke sayles filles full strayte, 
 
 He leaning ouer hollow rocke doth lye, 
 
 And either his begiled hookes doth bayte, 
 
 Or els beholdes and feeles the pray from hye with paised 
 
 hand. 
 The trembling fish he feeles with line extent. 
 This hope to them to whom of hurtles lyfe 
 Is quiet rest, and with his own content 
 And lytle, house, such hope in fieldes is ryfe 
 The troblous hopes with rolling whirlewynde great 
 
328 LUCIUS ANNjEUS SENECA. 
 
 And dreadful feares their wayes in cityes keepe, 
 He proude repayre to prince in regall state, 
 And hard court gates without the rest of sleepe 
 Esteemes, and endles happynes to hold 
 Doth gather goods, for treasure gaping more, 
 And is ful pore amid his heaped gold. 
 The peoples fauour him (astonied sore) 
 And commons more vnconstant then the sea, 
 With blast of vayne renoume liftes vp full proude. 
 He telling at the brawling barre his plea, 
 Pull wicked, sets his yres and scoulding loud 
 And woordes to sale, a fewe hath knowne of all 
 The careless rest, who mindfull how doth flitte 
 Swift age away, the tyme that neuer shall 
 Returne agayne do holde : while fates permitte, 
 At quiet liue : the lyf e full quickly glydes 
 With hastned course, and with the winged day 
 The wheele is turnde of yere that hedlong slides, 
 The sisters hard perfourme their taskes alway, 
 Nor may agayne vntwist the threede once sponne. 
 Yet mankinde loe vnsure what way to take 
 To meet the greedy destenyes doth ronne 
 And willingly wee seke the Stigian lake. 
 To much Alcides thou with stomacke stoute 
 The sory sprites of hell doth haste to see. 
 With course prefixt the fates are brought aboute 
 To none once warnd to come may respite bee ; 
 To none to passe their once appointed day, 
 The tombe all people colde by death doth hyde. 
 Let glory him by many lands awaye 
 Display, and fame throughout all cityes wyde 
 Full babling praise, and euen with skye to stande 
 Auaunce and starres : let him in chariot bright 
 Ful haughty goe : let me my natiue land 
 In safe and secrete house keepe close from sight. 
 To restful men hoare age by course doth fall, 
 And low in place, yet safe and sure doth lye, 
 The poore and base estate of cottage small : 
 The prowder pompe of minde doth fall from hye. 
 — Translation of Jasper Heywood. 
 (Edition of 1581.) 
 
HYMN TO BACCHUS. 329 
 
 HYMN TO BACCHUS. 
 
 " (Edipus." 
 
 Thou who with. Ivy deckt thy dangling haire ; 
 
 We, armd with jaulins, to thy Rites repaire. 
 
 Bright ornaments of heauen, thy suppliants heare : 
 
 To thee their hands thy noble Thebans reare. 
 
 O favour ! hether turne thy virgin face : 
 
 With thy syderiall lookes disperse and chace 
 
 These lowring clouds, the threats of Erebus, 
 
 And rage of greedy fate, from ours and vs. 
 
 It thee becomes to haue thy tresses bound 
 
 With vernall flowres, with Tyrian miter crown' d, 
 
 And girt in Ivy wreathes : now liberally 
 
 Let flow, and now in knots thy tresses tie. 
 
 As when, of thy fierce step-dames wroth afraid, 
 
 With borrowed shape so effeminately drest, 
 
 With robes that sweepe the earth, and naked brest ? 
 
 Those Easterne nations who on Ganges drinke, 
 
 And breake the ice on cold Araxes brinke, 
 
 Could not thy Lyons for thy robe behold, ' 
 
 Drawne in a Chariot rooft with vines of gold. 
 
 Thee old Silenus on a long-ear'd jade 
 
 Attends ; vine leaues his rugged fore-head shade. 
 
 Lascivious Priests thy Orges celebrate : 
 
 Troopes of Bassarian frowes vpon thee wait. 
 
 Now on Edonian Pangceus tread ; 
 
 Now on the Thracian Pindus lofty head, 
 
 Distracted Menas, ioyn'd with Theban wiues, 
 
 To serue th' Ogygian Iacchus striues ; 
 
 Whose loynes a Panthers sacred skin invests : 
 
 With ruffled haire the matrons hide their brests, 
 
 And brandish leavy jaulins lightly borne. 
 
 Vnhappy Pentheus, now in peeces torne, 
 
 Relenting Thyades, their fury gon, 
 
 Behold with grief e ; nor think that fact their owne. 
 
 Pair Ino, with the blew Nereides, 
 
 (Thy Aunt o Bacchus) raignes in sacred seas : 
 
 The stranger Boy there makes his blest aboad, 
 
 Of Bacchus race, Palemon, no smal God, 
 
 Thee, louely Boy, the Tliuscan rovers seiz'd : 
 
330 LUCIUS ANNjEUS SENECA. 
 
 Then Nereus the tumid maine appeas'd, 
 Blew seas converting into flowry meads : 
 The Plane-tree there his broad-leau'd branches spreads ; 
 Greene Laurel groues, belou'd by Phoebus, spring, 
 And chanting birds among the branches sing : 
 About the mast the youthful Ivy twines, 
 The lofty toe imbrac'd with clustered vines : 
 Now in the Prow Idcean Lyons rore, 
 The trembling Poope Gangetic Tygres bore : 
 In sea's themselues th ? affrighted sailers threw; 
 Who turned to Dolphins, flying ships pursew. 
 Pactolus wealthy streames thy burden tride, 
 Whose waters through a golden channel glide. 
 Messagians, quaffing blood and milke, vnbend 
 Their bowes ; nor more with Gettick shafts contend. 
 Thy power ax-arm'd Lycurgus kingdome knowes, 
 The fierce Zedacians ; and where Boreas blowes 
 On hoary fields ; those climates who shake 
 With cold, that border on Meotis Lake ; 
 And those whose Zenith is the Arcadian starve; 
 The Northern Wagons, and slow Wagonar. 
 Scattred Geloni he subdued : disarm'd 
 The braue Virago's; Thermoedonians warm'd 
 Cold earth with their soft lips ; but pacifi'd, 
 Their moone-like shields and quivers laid aside. 
 Sacred Cythmron he imbrew'd with blood 
 Of slaine Ophians. To the shadie wood, 
 And fields, transformed Praetus daughters runne. 
 The pleased stepdame now affects her sonne. 
 Naxos, begirt with the JEgean waue, 
 A bridal bed to Ariadne gaue ; 
 Her losse repaired with a better friend : 
 Torrents of wine from barren rocks descend ; 
 A flood of milke from siluer fountaines powres, 
 With Lesbian hony mixt, perfum'd with flowres, 
 Which through the medowes murmuring streames pro- 
 duce, 
 Whose thirstie banks suckt in the pleasant juce. 
 The starry Bride to high-archt heauen is led : 
 Phoebus, his haire vpon his shoulders spred, 
 Epithalamiums sang that happy night : 
 Both Cupids now the nuptial tapers light : 
 Ioue laid his wrathfull thunder-bolts aside, 
 
THE RULE OF FATE. 331 
 
 And hates his lightning, when he Bacchus spi'd. 
 While radiant starres shall runne their vsuall race, 
 While Neptunes armes the fruitf ull earth imbrace, 
 While Cynthia shall her homes together close, 
 While Lucifer the rosie Morne fore-showes, 
 While Lofty Arctos shunnes the salt Profound, 
 We Bacchus praise and beauty will resound. 
 
 — Translation of George Sandys (1632). 
 
 THE KULE OF FATE. 
 
 why shouldst thou that rulst the sky, 
 And mou'st those Orbs so orderly, 
 Th' affaires of men so much neglect ? 
 Nor raise the good, nor bad deiect ? 
 No : Fortune without order guides 
 What ever mortall man betides : 
 Her bounty her blind hands disburse 
 At randome ; favouring the worse. 
 Dire lust foil'd Chastity profanes ; 
 And fraud in Courts of Princes raignes. 
 Popular suffrages elate 
 Base men, who honour whom they hate. 
 Sad vertue the perverse reward 
 Eeceaues of Truth : want presseth hard 
 On chaster mindes : th' Adulterer high 
 In vice commands. Vaine modesty. 
 Deceitfull excellence. 
 
 — Translation of George Sandys (1632). 
 
PUBLIUS PAPINIUS STATIUS. 
 
 Statius, the son of a distinguished grammarian, the 
 tutor of the Emperor Domitian, was born at Neapolis 
 (Naples), about 61 b.c. He went with his father to 
 Borne, where he received a careful education. He was 
 trained to extemporaneous declamation and improvisa- 
 tion. Three times he won the prize in the Alban con- 
 tests, when poems were recited in honour of Minerva ; but 
 in the contest of the Capitoline Games, in which Jupiter 
 was celebrated, he failed. His popularity as a poet is 
 mentioned by Juvenal, who says : — 
 
 " All Rome is pleased, when Statius will rehearse, 
 And longing crowds expect the promist verse ; 
 His lofty numbers with so great a gust 
 They hear and swallow with such eager lust. 
 But, while the common suffrage gained his cause, 
 And broke the benches with their loud applause, 
 His Muse had starved, had not a piece unread, 
 And by a player bought, supplied his bread." 
 
 The " piece unread " was a tragedy called " Agave," and 
 the purchaser was Paris the actor, who was later killed 
 on suspicion of being concerned in an intrigue with the 
 Empress Domitia. Statius married a widow named 
 Claudia, and in one of his poems he speaks in high 
 terms of her affectionate nature and fine literary taste. 
 He had no children by her, but he adopted an infant girl, 
 who died in her teens. The elegy in which he bewailed 
 this loss is extant. He spent a dozen years in composing 
 and revising a long epic poem entitled "The Thebaid," 
 which in twelve books describes the adventures of the 
 heroes concerned in the expedition of the Seven against 
 Thebes. He left incomplete an epic poem, the hero of 
 which was Achilles. Still another of his works is entitled 
 "Silvse," containing miscellaneous poems in five books 
 in varying metres, showing evidences of haste, but 
 
 332 
 
TO SLEEP. 333 
 
 marked by tenderness of feeling and delicacy of fancy. 
 He is regarded as the best of the poets of the Silver Age 
 of Latin Literature. He spent the last part of his life 
 at Naples, and died there about 96 b.c. 
 
 TO SLEEP. 
 
 Ah, Sleep ! serenest God ! what crime is mine, 
 
 That I, the only youth, at thee repine ? 
 
 Now the husht calm and stillness of repose 
 
 O'er fold and nest and lair of woodland grows ; 
 
 The tree-tops curve their boughs in imaged sleep ; 
 
 Erom the fierce torrents altered murmurs creep ; 
 
 The wave-ridged ocean falls its softened roar, 
 
 And seas, at rest, recline upon the shore. 
 
 Seven times the moon returns ; yet pale and weak, 
 
 Distemper sits upon my faded cheek : 
 
 The emerging stars, from ^Etna's mount that rise 
 
 And Venus' fires have re-illumed the skies ; 
 
 Still, past my plaints, Aurora's chariot flew ; 
 
 Her shaken lash dropt cold the pitying dew. 
 
 Can I endure ? Not if to me were given 
 
 The eyes of Argus, sentinel of heaven : 
 
 Those thousand eyes that watch alternate kept, 
 
 Nor all o'er all his body waked or slept. 
 
 Ah, me ! yet now, beneath Night's lengthening shade, 
 
 Some youth's twined arms enfold the twining maid ; 
 
 Williug he wakes, while midnight hours roll on, 
 
 And scorns thee, Sleep ! and waves thee to be gone. 
 
 Come then from them ! Oh, leave their bed for mine ; 
 
 I bid thee not with all thy plumes incline 
 
 On my bowed lids ; this kindest boon beseems 
 
 The happy crowd that share thy softest dreams : 
 
 Let thy wand's tip but touch my closing eye, 
 
 Or, lightly hovering, skim and pass me by ! 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
834 PUBLIUS PAPINIUS STATIUS. 
 
 AN AEMY PERISHING OF THIEST FINDS 
 WATER. 
 
 From "The Thebaid." 
 
 Stung by dread thirst, the fainting warriors fail 
 Beneath their blazing shields and twisted mail : 
 With their choked jaws the parching heats begin ; 
 Then, with the strength of fever, rage within. 
 With hard pulsation beats each labouring heart, 
 The blood clings sickly to each vital part, 
 And curdles in their veins. The crumbling ground 
 With steam of dusty vapour smokes around. 
 From the steeds' mouths no foamy droppings flow ; 
 Champing the unmoistened chain, and lolling low 
 Their bitted tongues, they spurn the guiding rein, 
 The rider's voice, and furious scour the plain. 
 The scouts explore, by mandate of the king, 
 Lycymnia's lake and Amymone's spring. 
 Drained by the scorching heat the banks are dry, 
 Nor hope is left them from the showery sky ; 
 As if through Afric's yellow dust they strayed 
 And where no clouds Syene's turrets shade 
 Till, as decreed by Bacchus, midst the wood, 
 Hypsipyle before the wanderers stood, 
 In beauteous grief ; though at her bosom hung 
 The nursling infant, from another sprung ; 
 The hapless babe that called Lycurgus sire ; 
 Though rude her locks, nor costly her attire, 
 Yet regal graces markt her lofty air 
 And shone through all the bitterness of care. . . . 
 The Lemnian queen awhile in modest pride 
 Bent on the earth her looks and soft replied : . . . 
 " Why linger I to show the wisht-for flood ? 
 Come, tread my steps and search the secret wood. 
 If haply still the Langian brook retains 
 Its living tides ; when rapid Cancer reigns, 
 Or the keen dog-star lightens from on high, 
 That wave flows on nor feels the scorching sky." 
 Then, lest her cumbered footsteps, as she led, 
 Retard the chiefs, who followed on her tread j 
 Ah ! hapless innocent ! by Fate beguiled, 
 On a soft turf she lays the clinging child, 
 
AN ARMY FINDS WATER. 335 
 
 Where pillowing flowers in fragrant tufts arise, 
 
 And his soft tears with fondling murmurs dries. . . . 
 
 They track the thickets, wandering far and wide, 
 
 Through the green glooms that arch on every side : 
 
 Outstrip their guide ; or in compacted throng, 
 
 Impatient following, pour at once along. 
 
 She, in the midst the secret pathway traced, 
 
 Though hastening yet majestic in her haste. 
 
 The dell's hoarse echo speaks the river near ; 
 
 And pebbly murmurs strike the thrilling ear. 
 
 First in the van, glad Argus shook on high 
 
 The standard-staff ; and " Water ! " was the cry. 
 
 Through rank to rank the flying sound was flung, 
 
 And shouts of " Water ! " burst from every tongue. 
 
 So while the vessel shoots the Epyrian shores, 
 
 The helmsman's voice, amidst the dash of oars, 
 
 Proclaims Leucadia's height, with sunshine crowned, 
 
 And the shrill rocks with answering shouts rebound. 
 
 Impetuous to the stream they rusht along, 
 
 Confused and mixt ; the leaders and the throng ; 
 
 Alike their thirst, alike they cowering clung 
 
 To the cool banks, and o'er the waters hung. 
 
 Plunged with their cars the bitted horses flew 
 
 And their mailed riders midst the current drew. 
 
 The whirling eddy and the slippery rock 
 
 Betray their footing in the heedless shock : 
 
 The kings too strive ; all forms of reverence lost ; 
 
 Borne down by hampering crowds, in whirlpools tost : 
 
 The friend, in watery hollows plunging, tries 
 
 To raise his head, with unregarded cries : 
 
 The chafed waves flash ; the stream slow-lessening sinks, 
 
 And, distant, from its feeding fountain, shrinks ; 
 
 The glassy waters, that were seen to glide 
 
 With greenish clear transparency of tide, 
 
 Discoloured mantle in their troubled bed ; 
 
 The crumbling banks with grassy ruin spread 
 
 The muddied stream ; yet still their lips they lave 
 
 And slake their hot thirst in the slimy wave. 
 
 Such was the scene, as if the battle raged, 
 
 And the set combat in the stream were waged : 
 
 As if the warrior press that stemmed the flood 
 
 On some fair city's conquered turrets stood. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
336 PUBLIUS PAPINIUS STATIUS. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF HIPPOMEDOK 
 "The Thebaid." 
 
 Then thus the King : — "Whoe'er the quoit can wield, 
 
 And farthest send its weight athwart the field, 
 
 Let him stand forth his brawny arm to boast ! " 
 
 Swift at the word, from out the gazing host, 
 
 Young Pterelas with strength unequal drew, 
 
 Labouring, the disk, and to small distance threw. 
 
 The band around admire the mighty mass, 
 
 A slippery weight, and formed of polisht brass. 
 
 The love of honour bade two youths advance, 
 
 Achaians born, to try the glorious chance; 
 
 A third arose, of Acarnania he, 
 
 Of Pisa one, and one from Ephyre ; 
 
 Nor more, for now Nesimachus's son, — (Hippomedon) 
 
 By acclamations roused, came towering on. 
 
 Another orb upheaved his strong right hand, 
 
 Then thus : — "Ye Argive flower, ye warlike band, 
 
 Who trust your arms shall rase the Tyrian towers, 
 
 And batter Cadmus' walls with stony showers, 
 
 Receive a worthier load ; yon puny ball 
 
 Let youngsters toss " — 
 
 He said, and scornful flung the unheeded weight 
 
 Aloof ; the champions, trembling at the sight, 
 
 Prevent disgrace, the palm despaired resign ; 
 
 All but two youths the enormous orb decline, 
 
 These conscious shame withheld, and pride of noble line. 
 
 As bright and huge the spacious circle lay, 
 
 With double light it beamed against the day : 
 
 So glittering shows the Thracian Godhead's shield, 
 
 With such a gleam affrights Pangsea's field, 
 
 WTien blazing 'gainst the sun it shines from far, 
 
 And, clasht, rebellows with the din of war. 
 
 Phlegyas the long-expected play began, 
 
 Summoned his strength and called forth all the man ! 
 
 All eyes were bent on his experienced hand, 
 
 For oft in Pisa's sports, his native land 
 
 Admired that arm, oft on Alpheus' shore 
 
 The ponderous brass in exercise he bore ; 
 
 Where flowed the widest stream he took his stand ; 
 
 Sure flew the disk from his unerring hand, 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF HIPPOMEDON. 337 
 
 Nor stopt till it had cut the farther strand. 
 And now in dust the polisht ball he rolled, 
 Then graspt its weight, elusive of its hold ; 
 Now fitting to his gripe and nervous arm, 
 Suspends the crowd with expectation warm ; 
 Nor tempts he yet the plain, but hurled upright, 
 Emits the mass, a prelude of his might ; 
 Firmly he plants each knee, and o'er his head, 
 Collecting all his force the circle sped ; 
 It towers to cut the clouds ; now through the skies 
 Sings in its rapid way, and strengthens as it flies ; 
 Anon with slackened rage comes quivering down, 
 Heavy and huge, and cleaves the solid ground. 
 So from the astonisht stars, her nightly train, 
 The sun's pale sister, drawn by magic strain, 
 Deserts precipitant her darkened sphere : 
 In vain the nations with officious fear 
 Their cymbals toss and sounding brass explore ; 
 The iEmonian hag enjoys her dreadful hour 
 And smiles benignant on the labouring power. . . 
 
 Third in the labours of the disk come on, 
 
 With sturdy step and slow, Hippomedon j 
 
 Artful and strong he poised the well-known weight 
 
 By Phlegyas warned and fired by Mnestheus' fate, 
 
 That to avoid and this to emulate. 
 
 His vigorous arm he tried before he flung, 
 
 Braced all his nerves and every sinew strung ; 
 
 Then, with a tempest whirl, and wary eye, 
 
 Pursued his cast and hurled the orb on high ; 
 
 The orb on high tenacious of its course, 
 
 True to the mighty arm that gave it force, 
 
 Far overleaps all bound and joys to see 
 
 Its ancient lord secure of victory. 
 
 The theatre's green height and woody wall 
 
 Tremble ere it precipitates its fall ; 
 
 The ponderous mass sinks in the cleaving ground, 
 
 While vales and woods and echoing hills rebound. 
 
 As when from ^Etna's smoking summit broke 
 
 The eyeless Cyclops heaved the craggy rock ; 
 
 Where Ocean frets beneath the dashing oar, 
 
 And parting surges round the vessel roar ; 
 
 ? T was there he aimed the meditated harm 
 
338 PUBLIUS PAPINIUS STATIUS. 
 
 And scarce Ulysses scaped his giant arm. 
 A tiger's pride the victor bore away, 
 With native spots and artful labour gay, 
 A shining border round the margin rolled, 
 And calmed the terrors of his claws in gold. 
 
 — Translation of Thomas Gray. 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE FUEY. 
 
 "The Thebaid." 
 
 The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink 
 
 Her snakes, untied, sulphureous waters drink ; 
 
 But at the summons rolled her eyes around, 
 
 And snatcht the starting serpents from the ground. 
 
 Not half so swiftly shoots along in air 
 
 The gliding lightning or descending star. 
 
 Through crowds of airy shades she winged her flight, 
 
 And dark dominions of the silent night ; 
 
 Swift as she past the flitting ghosts withdrew, 
 
 And the pale spectres trembled at her view : 
 
 To the iron gates of Tenarus she flies, 
 
 There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies. 
 
 The Day beheld, and, sickening at the sight, 
 
 Veiled her fair glories in the shades of Night. 
 
 Affrighted Atlas on the distant shore 
 
 Trembled, and shook the heavens and Gods he bore. 
 
 Now from beneath Malea's airy height 
 
 Aloft she sprung and steered to Thebes her flight ; 
 
 With eager speed the well-known journey took, 
 
 Nor here regrets the Hell she late forsook. 
 
 A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade, 
 
 A hundred serpents guard her horrid head ; 
 
 In her sunk eyeballs dreadful meteors glow : 
 
 Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow, 
 
 When labouring with strong charms she shoots from high 
 
 A fiery gleam and reddens all the sky. 
 
 Blood stained her cheeks and from her mouth there came 
 
 Blue steaming poisons and a length of flame. 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE FURY. 339 
 
 Prom every blast of her contagious breath 
 
 Famine and Drought proceed and Plagues and Death. 
 
 A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown — 
 
 A dress by Fates and Furies worn alone. 
 
 She tost her meagre arms ; her better hand 
 
 In waving circles whirled a funeral brand ; 
 
 A serpent from her left was seen to rear 
 
 His flaming crest and lash the yielding air. 
 
 But when the Fury took her stand on high, 
 
 Where vast Cithseron's top salutes the sky, 
 
 A hiss from all the snaky tire went round : 
 
 The dreadful signals all the rocks rebound, 
 
 And through the Achaian cities send the sound. 
 
 (Ete, with high Parnasses, heard the voice ; 
 
 Eurotas' banks remurmured to the noise ; 
 
 Again Leucothea shook at these alarms, 
 
 And prest Palsemon closer in her arms. 
 
 Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs 
 
 And o'er the Theban palace spreads her wings, 
 
 Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds 
 
 Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds. 
 
 Straight with the rage of all their race possest, 
 
 Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest, 
 
 And all the furies wake within their breast. 
 
 — Translation of Alexander Pope. 
 
DECIMUS JUNIUS JUVENALIS. 
 
 Juvenal, the greatest of the Bom an satirists, nourished 
 toward the end of the first century after Christ. Like 
 Horace, he was the son of a freedman ; his home and 
 possibly his birthplace was at Aquinum. In the early 
 part of his life he supported himself by declaiming. 
 Having written some clever verses on the actor Paris, he 
 turned his attention to satirical writing. But in con- 
 sequence of the freedom of his strictures on the same 
 Paris, who was a favourite with the court, he was banished 
 to a remote district of Egypt under cover of an appoint- 
 ment as commander of a body of troops. There he died 
 at an advanced age. Very little is known of Juvenal's 
 life. He was certainly alive seventeen years after the 
 death of Paris. Fifteen authentic satires of his have 
 come down to us. These depict in vivid colours the vices 
 that were rampant in those degenerate days of Rome. 
 They are marked by a lofty moral indignation and have 
 been often imitated by modern poets who detected in 
 their particular ages or surroundings the same kind of 
 political or social corruption. Juvenal's works contain 
 many pithy sentences which have become proverbial, 
 such as " A sound mind in a sound body," " No man ever 
 became extremely wicked all at once," " But who shall 
 watch the watchers," " All men praise honesty — and let 
 her freeze," " The innocence of youth most deserves our 
 reverence," " Nobility is the one only virtue," " Probity 
 is praised — and starves at home." 
 
 THE EMPTINESS OF AMBITION. 
 
 The spoils of war : a coat of mail, fixt high 
 On trophied trunk, in emblemed victory ; 
 A dangling beaver- from its helmet cleft ; 
 A chariot's shivered beam ; a pendant reft 
 From boarded galley ; and the captive shown 
 340 
 
THE EMPTINESS OF AMBITION. 341 
 
 On the triumphal arch in imaged stone ; 
 
 Behold the sum of grandeur and of bliss. — 
 
 Greek, Roman, and Barbarian aim at this. 
 
 Hence the hot toil and hair-breadth peril came, 
 
 For less the thirst of virtue than of fame. 
 
 Who clasps mere naked virtue in his arms ? 
 
 Strip off the tinsel, she no longer charms ! 
 
 Yet has the glory of some few great names 
 
 Enwrapt our country in destroying flames : 
 
 This thirst of praise and chiselled titles, read 
 
 On stones that guard the ashes of the dead. 
 
 But a wild fig-tree's wayward growth may tear 
 
 The rifted tomb, and shake the stones in air : 
 
 Since sepulchres a human fate obey, 
 
 And vaults that shrine the dead themselves decay. 
 
 Try in the balance Hannibal : adjust 
 
 The scales : how many pounds weighs this big hero's dust ? 
 
 This — this is he whom Afric would, in vain, 
 
 Coop 'twixt the tepid Nile and Moorish main: 
 
 Swart iEthiop tribes his yoke of empire bore, 
 
 And towery elephants bowed down before. 
 
 Spain crouches as his vassal ; at a bound 
 
 He high o'erleaps the Pyrenaean mound : 
 
 Nature with Alps and snows the pass defends ; 
 
 Through juice-corroded rocks a way he rends, 
 
 And strides on Italy ; yet naught is won ; 
 
 He throws his glance beyond ; " yet naught is done ; 
 
 Till at Rome's gates the Punic soldier beats, 
 
 And plants my standard in her very streets." 
 
 Oh ! how, in painting, would that form enchant. 
 
 That blinking hero on an elephant ! 
 
 What is his end ? oh, Godlike glory ! say — 
 
 He flies in rout ; in exile steals away : 
 
 A great and gazed-at suppliant, lo ! he takes 
 
 His outdoor station, till a monarch wakes. 
 
 Nor swords nor stones nor arrows gave the wound, 
 
 And crusht the soul that shook the world around ; 
 
 What mighty means the blood-atonement bring ? 
 
 Cannae's avenger lurks within a ring. 
 
 Go ! madman, scour the Alps, in glory's dream ; 
 
 A tale for boys and a declaimer's theme. 
 
 Lo ! Pella's youth was cabined, cribbed, confined 
 
 Within one world too narrow for his mind : 
 
342 DECIMUS JUNIUS JUVENALIS. 
 
 Kestless lie turned in feverous discontent 
 
 As if by Gyara's rocks or scant Seriphum pent ; 
 
 But brick-walled Babylon gave ample room ; 
 
 Content lie stretcht him in a catacomb : 
 
 Death, death alone the conscious truth attests 
 
 What dwarfish frame this swelling soul invests ! 
 
 They tell of Athos' mountain sailed with ships ; 
 
 Those bold historic lies from Grecian lips : 
 
 Of ocean bridged across with paving keels, 
 
 And hardened waves o'erpast with chariot- wheels : 
 
 We pin our faith on rivers deep that shrank 
 
 And floods which, at a meal, the Median drank : 
 
 And all that marvel-mongering poet sings, 
 
 That maudlin swan, who bathed in wine his wings. 
 
 Say how from Salamis this Sultan past, 
 
 Who lasht the Eastern and the Western blast ; 
 
 Stripes which they know not in the iEolian cave : 
 
 He who with fetters bound the earth-shaking wave, 
 
 And, in his mercy only, spared to brand ? 
 
 What ! croucht a god, like Neptune, to his hand ? 
 
 Then say, how past he back ? — behold him now 
 
 One bark, through bloody waves, with corse-choked 
 
 prow: 
 Such is the glorious fame for which we sigh, 
 And such Ambition's curse and penalty. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Charles Abraham Elton. 
 
 INCITEMENT TO SATIEE. 
 
 When he, whose razor mowed my youthful face, 
 Vies with the noblest of patrician race ; 
 When vile Crispinus, from Canopus sprung, 
 His Tyrian cloak loose o'er his shoulders flung, 
 Wears a light Summer ring, and, to complete 
 His folly, fans his finger, faint with heat ; 
 Nor can a gem of greater weight sustain — 
 How can I silence Satire's just disdain ? 
 For who exists so void of virtuous rage, 
 As not to lash the vices of the age ? 
 When pleader Matho's chair attracts our eyes, 
 New-built and filled with his enormous size ; 
 
INCITEMENT TO SATIRE. 343 
 
 And next the vile accuser, who despoils 
 Half-ruined nobles, struggling in his toils ; 
 Whom his associates dread but still support, 
 With presents bribe him and with flattery court ; 
 When those base wretches rob thee of thy right, 
 Who act the cursed deeds of lawless night ; 
 Who, for her riches, love some aged dame, 
 The surest road to wealth, if not to fame ; 
 Where each, according to his vile deserts, 
 Bears off a recompense, but health subverts ; 
 Life's ruddy drops the pallid cheek forsake, 
 Like his, who treads upon the vengeful snake ; 
 Or like the Lyon's pleader, struck with dread, 
 Lest a defeat should sink him with the dead. 
 What shall I say — how check this honest pride, 
 When the false guardian elbows us aside ? 
 When exiled Marius, scorning vain decrees 
 (Since wealth conceals disgrace) can live at ease ; 
 Laugh at the Gods, feast early, keep his gain, 
 And leave thee, conquering Province, to complain ? 
 Shall not such crimes awake the Horatian lyre ? 
 Must not I strike the chords ? but check my fire, 
 And choose some idle theme, by Fancy led, 
 As Hercules and vanquisht Diomed ? 
 Or wander through the labyrinth of Crete ? 
 Or, once again, the oft-told tale repeat, 
 How Daedalus escaped on venturous wing, 
 And his too-daring son's misfortune sing ? . . . 
 When such vile actors in each place we meet, 
 What study is so broken as the street ? 
 See, on the necks of six tall fellows borne, 
 In open chair and smiling as in scorn, 
 Stretcht like Maecenas, lolling at his ease, 
 The forger dares our sight, prepared to seize 
 On wealth, by arts, alas ! too fully known, 
 To blot out others' names and stamp his own. 
 Look where she comes, in guilty splendour fine, 
 Who mingles poison in her husband's wine. 
 Proud of the deed, she triumphs in her shame, 
 And teaches artless wives to act the same. 
 Dare boldly then, if riches thou wouldst raise, 
 Heap crime on crime ! For Virtue pines on praise ! 
 'T is vice alone supplies the wealth of most, 
 
344 DECIMUS JUNIUS JUVENALIS. 
 
 Their mansions, gardens, and their plate imbost. 
 
 ! who can taste the tranquil bliss of life, 
 When the sire keeps the son's corrupted wife ? 
 When curst espousals mark the excess of sin, 
 And vice buds forth upon the callow chin ? 
 Indignant wrath shall Nature's wants supply 
 And lash to action such a bard as I. . . . 
 
 Ah ! when did Vice a bolder front display ? 
 
 When did fell Avarice seize a richer prey ? 
 
 When could the gamester more indulge his crime ? 
 
 What former era match the present time ? 
 
 Now, not the purse alone, but whole estate 
 
 Is ventured on the die's uncertain fate ; 
 
 The chest itself, the steward in dismay, 
 
 Is forced to yield, so desperate is their play. 
 
 What more than madness is it on one throw 
 
 To hazard all, yet no compassion show 
 
 For their poor tattered slave, whom they behold 
 
 Spoiled of his cloak and shivering with the cold ? 
 
 When in more pomp were splendid villas known ? 
 
 What ancestor would feast himself alone ? 
 
 Now the scant offering, placed beyond the door, 
 
 Which rather serves to mock than feed the poor, 
 
 Is closely watcht — the master fears deceit, 
 
 And trembles lest some unaskt wretch should eat. 
 
 Known thou art served. The crier bawls aloud : — 
 
 " Come forth, ye Nobles, from the gaping crowd. 
 
 Here, give the Prsetor, give the Tribune place ! " 
 
 (For these, alas ! are callous to disgrace). 
 
 But hark ! what voice ? A freedman boldly cries : — 
 
 " Hold there ! I 'm first — who shall my right despise ? 
 
 Though from Euphrates' banks, 't is true, I sprung, 
 
 Which my bored ears declare if not my tongue, 
 
 What signifies the place where I was born ? 
 
 Five good estates are sure no theme for scorn. 
 
 1 prize not birth ; no register I keep. 
 Does not Corvinus tend another's sheep ? 
 Beyond most freedmen shines my lucky fate. 
 Mark what I say and let the Tribunes wait ! " 
 Yes, to his riches, sacred rank, give way, place ; 
 Nor let once whitened- feet incur disgrace. 
 Wealth has most votaries — wealth is most revered, 
 Though in her name no temples yet are reared ; 
 
CORRUPTION RAMPANT IN ROME. 345 
 
 No altars, strewn with, incense, we behold, 
 
 Raised to the all-powerful majesty of Gold; 
 
 When Peace, Faith, Virtue, Victory, tower on high, 
 
 And Concord, whence the storks salute the sky. 
 
 But when e'en Senators, in clamorous train, 
 
 By arts like these increase their annual gain, 
 
 How thrive the poor ? to whom this source should give 
 
 Fuel and raiment and the means to live. . . . 
 
 Their patron's steps the hungry wearied train 
 
 Of clients follows and implores in vain ; 
 
 Worn out their patience, slowly they retire, 
 
 To purchase roots and trim their evening fire ; 
 
 While their luxurious lord, his taste to please, 
 
 Thins for himself the woods and drains the seas ; 
 
 Stretcht on his splendid couch, alone he lies, 
 
 And views each antique orb with curious eyes ; 
 
 So rare the food, so costly is the plate, 
 
 A single table sinks the whole estate ! 
 
 He will not e'en a parasite afford : 
 
 But who can bear so infamous a board ? 
 
 To gorge his palate and feed none beside 
 
 Whole boars are drest, that amply would provide 
 
 For numerous guests ! But patience : — see him borne 
 
 Swoln to the bath, an object of our scorn : 
 
 Indignant Fate, with such excess at strife, 
 
 Grants no reprieve, but snaps his thread of life: 
 
 Fame sounds his death, unwitnest by a tear, 
 
 And disappointed heirs insult his bier. 
 
 No new reproach posterity can claim ; 
 
 Whate'er they wish, our sons must act the same. 
 
 Vice at its acme stands ! Hail, Satire ! hail ! 
 
 Spread all thy canvas ! catch the favouring gale ! ' 
 
 — Translation of William Heath Marsh. 
 
 CORRUPTION RAMPANT IN ROME. 
 
 Now who at Rome are honoured and carest, 
 But such as stifle conscience in their breast ? 
 High-bribed by wretches who detection fear ; 
 For honest secrets few will deign to hear. 
 Who knows the state of Verres' guilty heart 
 
346 DECIMUS JUNIUS JUVENALIS. 
 
 May soon grow rich and play the tyrant's part 
 
 Yet let not all that Tagus can unfold 
 
 Who seeks the Ocean with his sands of gold, 
 
 Rob thee of rest, through envy of the knave, 
 
 "Who lives the great man's pensioner and slave. 
 
 But what deceitful race I most detest 
 
 Shall be no more a secret in my breast. 
 
 Know then I hate, uncheckt by fear or shame, 
 
 A Grecian city with a Roman name ! 
 
 I cannot bear these fawning sons of Greece. 
 
 Nor thence alone our numerous plagues increase : 
 
 Corrupt Orontes washes Tiber's shore; 
 
 And crooked harps and morals, which before 
 
 We never knew, now poison all the land, 
 
 Where nymphs, unblushing, take their venal stand. 
 
 Go, fools, and court a painted foreign face ! 
 
 Regard, Quirinus, thy once simple race, 
 
 Whose altered persons Grecian raiment decks, 
 
 While richest odours issue from their necks. 
 
 Prom islands studding thick the yEgean main, 
 
 From Sicyon, Amydos, a numerous train 
 
 Hither direct their course, swarm o'er the land, 
 
 And serve as drudges, where they soon command. 
 
 Crafty and bold they mine their secret way ; 
 
 With polisht periods lead the weak estray. 
 
 What shall we name that all-capacious mind 
 
 Where various powers unite of every kind ? 
 
 Grammarian, orator, physician, priest, 
 
 Dancer, philosopher, is each at least ; 
 
 With every wayward humour can comply, 
 
 Sink to the shades below or climb the sky. 
 
 Nor Moor, Sarmatian, Thracian was he bred ; 
 
 But in the midst of Athens reared his head, 
 
 Ingenious Daedalus ! Must I submit ? 
 
 Shall these before me shine or higher sit, 
 
 Clothed in purple, who but lately came 
 
 With figs and prunes, to Rome's eternal shame. 
 
 Must we disgraced, who boast our Roman birth, 
 
 Yield to this scum, this refuse of the earth ? 
 
 Why need I paint each low insidious art, 
 
 Each fawning trick, by which they gain the heart ? 
 
 Skilful are they to flatter and commend 
 
 A dunce's wit, the beauty of a friend 
 
A COUNTRY RETREAT. 347 
 
 Deformed ; lank limbs their vicious taste can please, 
 
 And cripples they compare to Hercules ; 
 
 The harsh voice, screeching like the hen's rough throat, 
 
 Seems in their ear a most melodious note. 
 
 Cannot we flatter and deceive mankind ? 
 
 True — but the Greeks alone will credit find. 
 
 Who can with them in mimic scenes compare ? 
 
 Adopt the wanton's smile or matron's air. 
 
 The artless sea-nymph fascinates our eyes 
 
 And the true woman shines without disguise. 
 
 Nor only these attention will engage 
 
 As actors : what 's the whole of Greece ? — A stage ! 
 
 Laugh — and a louder laugh will they return ; 
 
 Weep — with affected sympathy they mourn: 
 
 Should Winter's rigorous blasts complaints provoke, 
 
 They sit and shiver in a woollen cloak ; 
 
 Or, if a fever fire each throbbing vein, 
 
 In silk they flutter and of heat complain. 
 
 How can we vie with these, who know so well 
 
 Preferment's path, who study to excel ? 
 
 Are ever ready with the proffered hand 
 
 And Passion's struggling impulse can command ; 
 
 Who trifles magnify with wondrous skill, 
 
 And make their patron's credit what they will. 
 
 But worst of all and most to be deplored, 
 
 They sap each rising virtue where they board. 
 
 The wife, the son, the daughter led astray, 
 
 Or show their talents in a meaner way ; 
 
 Worm every secret from your servant's breast 
 
 And live your slaves, your terror and your pest. 
 
 — Translation of "William Heath Marsh. 
 
 A COUNTRY EETEEAT. 
 
 If from the circus thou couldst once refrain 
 
 Who would not rather choose the verdant plain ? 
 
 Fix his retreat where Liris gently flows 
 
 And seek in Latium elegant repose ? 
 
 There couldst thou purchase (and not rent as here 
 
 At greater price a dungeon by the year) 
 
 Some decent villa, where the bubbling stream 
 
348 DECIMUS JUNIUS JUVENALIS. 
 
 [Refreshes plants and soothes the poet's dream ; 
 
 There might'st thou live, despising useless wealth, 
 
 Blest with contentment, innocence and health, 
 
 Thy little garden plant with nicest care, 
 
 And treat thy numerous friends with rustic fare. 
 
 Such in all ranks is human nature known, 
 
 We long for something that we call our own. 
 
 Here must the sick expire for want of rest, 
 
 Whose bloated stomachs heave with food opprest. 
 
 For who in lodgings e'er expects to sleep ? 
 
 The rich alone can a safe distance keep. 
 
 Here Death his quiver fills. What crowds we meet ! 
 
 Chariots and horsemen throng each narrow street ; 
 
 The clamorous coachman, cursing dull delay, 
 
 Would Drusus wake, or rouse sea-calves to play. 
 
 Should business call the wealthy — at their ease, 
 
 Seated aloft, they travel as they please ; 
 
 Can read or write, or if they need repose, 
 
 Soft slumbers court them when the curtains close. 
 
 Still they proceed ; but should we press too near, 
 
 Dangers assault us both in front and rear. 
 
 One saucy fellow elbows us aside ; 
 
 The chairman's pole with vigour is applied ; 
 
 Here rafters bruise the head, and there a sot 
 
 Drives all before him, brandishing his pot : 
 
 Plastered with mud, and squeezed to death, 
 
 With bleeding heels, we pant and gasp for breath. 
 
 — Translation of William Heath Marsh. 
 
 LIFE'S REAL GOOD. 
 
 Throughout the lands which wide-extended lie 
 From Ganges and the golden Eastern sky 
 To Gades and the West, how few can see 
 Their real good, from clouds of error free ! 
 What hope, what fear, untinged by Passion's hue, 
 Through Eeason's lucid medium dost thou view ? 
 What unrepented project hast thou framed? 
 What vow preferred, nor wisht the gift reclaimed ? 
 Too oft the indulgent rulers of the skies 
 Accept the fatal incense of our sighs, 
 
LIFE'S REAL GOOD. 349 
 
 And, in requital of their pious care, 
 Have smote whole houses with accepted prayer. 
 Girded in courts, or belted in the field 
 We blindly seek the hurtful, unrevealed ! 
 He that holds senates mute may curse the hour 
 That saw him rise in all the pride of power ; 
 And strength itself, involved in Milo's fate 
 May rue the struggle and be wise too late ! 
 More captives still within thy fatal spell 
 Dost thou, insatiate power of gold, compel ! 
 Sworn at the altars, must the votary pine j 
 Pause is there none for votary of thine, 
 Though his possessions o'er the rest prevail 
 As o'er the dolphin breed the British whale. 
 Yet see those gates the cohort closing round. 
 Too rich for Nero is Longinus found. 
 See Lateranus in his halls constrained, 
 And midst his marble busts of wealth arraigned. 
 And far, oh ! far too rich for tyrant's time — 
 Thy gardens, Seneca, were all thy crime ! 
 No missioned soldier bursts the hovel door, 
 Or treads the sordid dwellings of the poor ! 
 Takest thou the road beneath the lamp of night ? 
 Small prize there needs the poniard to invite ! 
 The reed's frail shadow darkling in her beam 
 Shall to thy startled sense the robber seem, 
 While he of staff and scrip shall chant his lay, 
 Nor turn one instant from the caitiff's way. 
 Yet still with ceaseless prayer the fanes resound 
 That, come what will, possessions may abound ; 
 That the kind gods may still enlarge our lands, 
 And bags grow wider in our banker's hands. 
 Yet the frail vessels of the potter's wheel 
 No treacherous draughts of aconite conceal ! 
 Eear the gemmed goblet, and suspicious hold 
 The ruby juice that glows in cups of gold ! 
 
 — Translation of Charles Badham. 
 
MARCUS ANNiEUS LUCANUS. 
 
 Lucan was born at Corduba, in southern Spain, 39 a.d. 
 His father was a brother of the philosopher Seneca. His 
 father moved to Rome when he was a baby, and there 
 he received his training, which was the best that the 
 metropolis afforded. Cornutus the Stoic was one of his 
 teachers. His talents early developed, and even as a boy 
 he began to declaim his own verses with great applause. 
 When Nero ascended the throne, he was friendly to 
 Lncan, but as the emperor was also a composer of verses 
 there was rivalry between them. When the two entered 
 the same public contest and the prize was awarded to the 
 commoner, Nero forbade him to publish or recite any 
 more of his compositions. Lucan, angered by this act 
 of tyranny, entered into the conspiracy of Piso. The 
 plot was discovered. Lucan, by a promise of pardon, was 
 induced to turn state's evidence. He denounced his own 
 mother and revealed the names of all the other conspir- 
 ators without reserve. His treachery was without ad- 
 vantage. He was ordered to commit suicide. Then his 
 Stoic training came to his aid. He opened his veins and 
 died, declaiming some verses which he had once composed 
 descriptive of a wounded soldier similarly dying. This 
 was in the year 65 ; he was only twenty-six. He wrote 
 many poems, but all that is left is his "Pharsalia," a 
 heroic poem in ten books, descriptive of the struggle be- 
 tween Caesar and Pompey. The tenth book is incomplete, 
 and breaks off abruptly in the middle of the Alexandrian 
 war. The growth of Lucan's liberal sentiments may be 
 said to be recorded in the progress of the poem. At first 
 he flatters Nero, but afterward he proclaims the blessings 
 of liberty and inveighs against tyranny in terms evi- 
 dently directed against the emperor. The work is uneven, 
 but has many fine passages. Especially the speeches 
 attributed to Csesar, Pompey, and Cato employed Lucan's 
 best powers. Of Cato's encomium on Pompey, Atacaulay 
 said, "It is a pure gem of rhetoric without one flaw." 
 
 350 
 
POMPEY AND CMSAR. 351 
 
 Shelley, after reading the first four books, — the weakest 
 of all, — declared that the " Pharsalia " was " a poem of 
 wonderful genius and transcending Vergil." Macaulay 
 ranked the author " among the most extraordinary men 
 that ever lived." Dante placed him with Homer, Hor- 
 ace, Ovid, and Vergil. Dean Merivale, after criticising 
 his lack of imagination and his vague and uncertain 
 philosophy, says, "His wit and cleverness, considering 
 his years, are preternatural; the trumpet tones of his 
 scorn of admiration, after more than thirty years' famil- 
 iarity, still thunder in my ears with startling intensity." 
 Christopher Marlowe translated the first book of Lucan 
 into sonorous blank verse that strove to represent the 
 work line for line. It was published in 1600. Thirty- 
 one years later Sir Thomas May brought out a rimed 
 version, which, like the original, is extremely unequal. 
 A hundred years later, or thereabouts, Nicholas Eowe, 
 the playwright, translated the *" Pharsalia " ; Pope said, 
 "It deserves more notice than it obtains." The latest 
 version is by Edward Eidley, published in 1896. 
 
 POMPEY AND CESAB. 
 
 Both differed much. Pompey was struck in years, 
 
 And by long rest forgot to manage arms, 
 
 And being popular, sought by liberal gifts 
 
 To gain the light unstable commons' love, 
 
 And joyed to hear his theatre's applause : 
 
 He lived secure, boasting his former deeds, 
 
 And thought his name sufficient to uphold him : 
 
 Like to a tall oak in a fruitful field, 
 
 Bearing old spoils and conquerors' monuments, 
 
 Who though his root be weak and his own weight 
 
 Keep him within the ground, his arms all bare, 
 
 His body, not his boughs, send forth a shade ; 
 
 Though every blast it nod and seem to fall, 
 
 When all the woods about stand bolt upright, 
 
 Yet he alone is held in reverence. 
 
 Caesar's renown for war was less ; he restless, 
 
 Shaming to strive but where he did subdue ; 
 
 When ire or hope provoked, heady and bold ; 
 
 At all times charging home and making havoc ; 
 
352 MARCUS ANNjEUS LUCANUS. 
 
 Urging his fortune, trusting in the gods, 
 
 Destroying what withstood his proud desires, 
 
 And glad when blood and ruin made him way : 
 
 So thunder, which the wind tears from the clouds, 
 
 With crack of riven air and hideous sound 
 
 Filling the world, leaps out and throws forth fire, 
 
 Affrights poor fearful men and blasts their eyes 
 
 With overthwarting flames, and raging shoots 
 
 Alongst the air, and, not resisting it, 
 
 Falls and returns and shivers where it lights. 
 
 Such humours stirred them up : but this war's seed 
 
 Was even the same that wrecks all great dominions. 
 
 When Fortune made us lords of all, wealth flowed, 
 
 And then we grew licentious and rude ; 
 
 The soldiers' prey and rapine brought in riot ; 
 
 Men took delight in jewels, houses, plate, 
 
 And scorned old sparing diet, and ware robes 
 
 Too light for women ; Poverty, who hatcht 
 
 Rome's greatest wits, was loathed, and all the world 
 
 Ransackt for gold, which breeds the world's decay ; 
 
 And then large limits had their butting lands ; 
 
 The ground, which Curius and Camillus tilled, 
 
 Was stretcht unto the fields of hinds unknown. 
 
 Again, this people could not brook calm peace ; 
 
 Them Freedom without war might not suffice : 
 
 Quarrels were rife ; greedy Desire, still poor, 
 
 Did vile deeds ; then 't was worth the price of blood, 
 
 And deemed renown, to spoil their native town ; 
 
 Force mastered right, the strongest governed all ; 
 
 Hence came it that the edicts were o'erruled, 
 
 That laws were broke, tribunes with consuls strove, 
 
 Sale made of offices and people's voices 
 
 Bought by themselves and sold, and every year 
 
 Frauds and corruption in the Field of Mars ; 
 
 Hence interest and devouring usury sprang, 
 
 Faith's breach and hence came war, to most men welcome. 
 
 Now Caesar overpast the snowy Alps : 
 
 His mind was troubled, and he aimed at war: 
 
 And coming to the ford of Rubicon, 
 
 At night in dreadful vision fearful Rome 
 
 Mourning appeared, whose hoary hairs were torn, 
 
 And on her turret-bearing head disperst, 
 
 And arms all naked; who with broken sighs, 
 
POMPEY AND CAESAR. 353 
 
 And staring, thus bespoke: — "What mean'st thou, 
 
 Caesar ? 
 Whither goes my standard ? Eomans if ye be, 
 And bear true hearts, stay here." This spectacle 
 Struck Caesar's heart with fear ; his hair stood up, 
 And faintness numbed his steps there on the brink. 
 He thus cried out : — " Thou Thunderer that guard' st 
 Rome's mighty walls, built on Tarpeian rock. 
 Ye Gods of Phrygia and lulus' line, 
 Quirinus' rites and Latian Jove advanced 
 On Alba hill. vestal flames ! O Rome, 
 My thought's sole goddess, aid mine enterprise ! 
 I hate thee not, to thee my conquests stoop : 
 Caesar is thine, so please it thee, thy soldier ! 
 He, he afflicts Rome that made me Rome's foe." 
 This said, he, laying aside all lets of war, 
 Approacht the swelling stream with drum and ensign : 
 Like to a lion of scorcht desert Afric, 
 Who, seeing hunters, pauseth till fell wrath 
 And kingly rage increase ; then, having whiskt 
 His tail athwart his back, and crest heaved up, 
 With jaws wide-open ghastly roaring out, 
 Albeit the Moor's light javelin or his spear 
 Sticks in his side, yet runs upon the hunter. 
 In Summer-time the purple Rubicon, 
 Which issues from a small spring, is but shallow, 
 And creeps along the vales, dividing just 
 The bounds of Italy from Cisalpine France. 
 But now the Winter's wrath and watery moon, 
 Being three days old, enforced the flood to swell, 
 And frozen Alps thawed with revolving winds. 
 The thunder-hooft horse, in a crooked line, 
 To scape the violence of the stream, first waded ; 
 Which being broke, the foot had easy passage. 
 As soon as Caesar got unto the passage bank 
 And bounds of Italy, " Here, here," saith he, 
 " An end of peace ; here end polluted laws ! 
 Hence leagues and covenants. Fortune, thee I follow ! 
 War and the Destinies shall try my cause." 
 This said, the restless general through the dark, 
 Swifter than bullets thrown from Spanish slings, 
 Or darts which Parthians backward shoot, marcht on. 
 — Translation of Christopher Marlowe. 
 
354 MARCUS ANNjEUS LUC ANUS. 
 
 FOREBODINGS OF WAR. 
 
 Ye Gods, who lavish, priceless gifts on men, 
 
 Nor care to guard them, see victorious Rome 
 
 Teeming with life, chief city of the world, 
 
 With ample walls that all mankind might hold, 
 
 To coming Caesar left an easy prey ! 
 
 The Roman soldier, when in foreign lands 
 
 Prest by the enemy, in narrow trench 
 
 And hurried mounds finds guard enough to make 
 
 His slumber safe ; but thou, imperial Rome, 
 
 Alone on rumour of advancing foes 
 
 Art left a desert, and thy battlements 
 
 They trust not for one night ! Yet for their fear 
 
 This one excuse was left : Pompeius fled. 
 
 Nor found they room for hope ; for Nature gave 
 
 Unerring portents of worse ills to come. 
 
 The angry gods filled earth and air and sea 
 
 With frequent prodigies ; in darkest nights 
 
 Strange constellations sparkled through the gloom : 
 
 The pole was all afire, and torches flew 
 
 Across the depths of heaven ; with horrid hair 
 
 A blazing comet stretcht from East to West 
 
 And threatened change to kingdoms. From the blue 
 
 Pale lightning flasht, and in the murky air 
 
 The fire took divers shapes ; a lance afar 
 
 Would seem to quiver or a misty torch ; 
 
 A noiseless thunderbolt from cloudless sky 
 
 Rusht down, and drawing fire in northern parts 
 
 Plunged on the summit of the Alban mount. 
 
 The stars that ran their courses in the night 
 
 Shone in full daylight ; and the orbed moon, 
 
 Hid by the shade of earth, grew pale and wan. 
 
 The sun himself, when poised in mid career, 
 
 Shrouded his burning car in blackest gloom 
 
 And plunged the world in darkness, so that men 
 
 Despaired of day — like as he veiled his light 
 
 From that fell banquet which Mycenae saw. 
 
 The jaws of Etna were agape with flame 
 
 That rose not heavenwards, but headlong fell 
 
 In smoking stream upon th' Italian flank. 
 
 Then black Charybdis, from her boundless depth, 
 
FOREBODINGS OF WAR. 355 
 
 Threw up a gory sea. In piteous tones 
 Howled the wild dogs ; the Vestal fire was snatcht 
 From off the altar ; and the flame that crowned 
 The Latin festival was split in twain, 
 As on the Theban pyre, in ancient days ; 
 Earth tottered on its base : the mighty Alps 
 From off their summits shook the eternal snow. 
 In huge upheaval Ocean raised his waves 
 O'er Calpe's rock and Atlas' hoary head. 
 The native gods shed tears, and holy sweat 
 Dropt from the idols ; gifts in temples fell : 
 Foul birds defiled the day ; beasts left the woods 
 And made their lair among the streets of Rome. 
 All this we hear ; nay more : dumb oxen spake ; 
 Monsters were brought to birth and mothers shrieked 
 At their own offspring ; words of dire import 
 From Cumae's prophetess were noised abroad ; 
 Bellona's priests with bleeding arms, and slaves 
 Of Cybele's worship, with ensanguined hair, 
 Howled chants of havoc and of woe to men. 
 Arms clasht ; and sounding in the pathless woods 
 Were heard strange voices ; spirits walkt the earth : 
 And dead men's ashes muttered from the urn. 
 Those who live near the walls desert their homes, 
 For lo ! with hissing serpents in her hair, 
 Waving in downward whirl a blazing pine, 
 A fiend patrols the town, like that which erst 
 At Thebes urged on Agave, or which hurled 
 Lycurgus' bolts, or that which as he came 
 From Hades seen, at haughty Juno's word, 
 Brought terror to the soul of Hercules. 
 Trumpets like those that summon armies forth 
 Were heard reechoing in the silent night : 
 And from the earth arising Sulla's ghost 
 Sang gloomy oracles, and by Anio's wave 
 All fled the homesteads, frighted by the shade 
 Of Marius waking from his broken tomb. 
 
 — Translation of Edward Ridley. 
 
356 MARCUS ANN^EUS LUC ANUS. 
 
 THE ASTKOLOGEK'S PKEDICTIOK 
 
 Figkjlus, to whom 
 For knowledge of the secret depths of space 
 And laws harmonious that guide the stars, 
 Memphis could find no peer, then spake at large : — 
 "Either," he said, "the world and countless orbs 
 Throughout the ages wander at their will j 
 Or, if the Fates control them, ruin huge 
 Hangs o'er the city and o'er all mankind. 
 Shall Earth yawn open and engulf the towns ? 
 Shall scorching heat usurp the temperate air 
 And fields refuse their timely fruit ? The streams 
 Flow mixt with poison ? In what plague, ye Gods, 
 In what destruction shall ye wreak your ire ? 
 Whate'er the truth, the days in which we live 
 Shall find a doom for many. Had the star 
 Of baleful Saturn, frigid in the height, 
 Kindled his lurid fires, the sky had poured 
 Its torrents forth as in Deucalion's time, 
 And whelmed the world in waters. Or if thou, 
 Phoebus, beside the Nemean lion fierce 
 Wert driving now thy chariot, flames should seize 
 The universe and set the air ablaze. 
 These are at peace ; but Mars, why art thou bent 
 On kindling thus the Scorpion, his tail 
 Portending evil and his claws aflame ? 
 Deep sunk is kindly Jupiter, and dull 
 Sweet Venus' star, and rapid Mercury 
 Stays on his course : Mars only holds the sky ! 
 Why does Orion's sword too brightly shine ? 
 Why planets leave their paths and through the void 
 Thus journey on obscure ? 'T is war that comes, 
 Fierce, rabid war : the sword shall bear the rule, 
 Confounding justice ; hateful crime usurp 
 The name of virtue ; and the havoc spread 
 Through many a year. But why entreat the Gods ? 
 The end Eome longs for and the final peace 
 Comes with a despot. Draw thou out thy chain 
 Of lengthening slaughter, and (for such thy fate) 
 Make good thy liberty through civil war." 
 
 The frightened people heard, and as they heard 
 
POMPETS DREAM. 357 
 
 His words prophetic made them fear the more. 
 
 But worse remained ; for as on Pindus, slopes 
 
 Posse st with fury from the Theban God 
 
 Speeds some Bacchante, thus in Boman streets 
 
 Behold a matron run, who, in her trance, 
 
 Believes her bosom of the god within : — 
 
 " Where dost thou snatch me, Psean, to what shore 
 
 Through airy regions borne ? I see the snows 
 
 Of Thracian mountains ; and Philippi's plains 
 
 Lie broad beneath. But why these battle-lines, 
 
 No foe to vanquish — Borne on either hand ? 
 
 Again I wander 'neath the rosy hues 
 
 That paint thine eastern skies, where regal Nile 
 
 Meets with his flowing wave the rising tide. 
 
 Known to mine eyes that mutilated trunk 
 
 That lies upon the sand. Across the seas 
 
 By changing whirlpools to the burning climes 
 
 Of Libya borne, again I see the hosts 
 
 Prom Thracia brought by Fate's command. And now 
 
 Thou bear'st me o'er the cloud-compelling Alps 
 
 And Pyrenean summits ; next to Borne. 
 
 There in mid-Senate see the closing scene 
 
 Of this foul war in foulest murder done. 
 
 Again the factions rise ; through all the world 
 
 Once more I pass ; but give me some new land, 
 
 Some other region, Phoebus, to behold, 
 
 Washt by the Pontic billows, for these eyes 
 
 Already once have seen Philippi's plains." 
 
 The frenzy left her and she speechless fell. 
 
 — Translation of Edwakd Kidlbt. 
 
 POMPEY'S DBEAM. 
 
 Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws 
 More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds, 
 Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven 
 With gloomier presage ; wishing to endure 
 The pangs of ravisht light and dark eclipse ; 
 And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames, 
 But lest his light upon Thessalian earth 
 
358 MARCUS ANN^US LUC ANUS. 
 
 Might fall undimmed. 
 
 Pompeius on that morn, 
 To him the latest day of happy life, 
 In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived. 
 Far in the watches of the night he heard 
 Innumerable Romans shout his name 
 Within his theatre ; the benches vied 
 To raise his fame and place him with the Gods ; 
 As once in youth, when victory was won 
 O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows, 
 And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled, 
 The West subdued, with no less majesty 
 Than if the purple toga graced the car, 
 He sat triumphant in his pure white gown, 
 A Eoman knight, and heard the Senate cheer. 
 Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul, 
 Shunning the future, wooed the happy past ; 
 Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber snowed 
 That which was not to be,. by doubtful forms 
 Misleading ; or as envious Fate forbade 
 Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome 
 Kind fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep, 
 Ye sentinels ; let not the trumpet call 
 Strike on his ear : for on the morrow's night 
 Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war, 
 Sn^ll crowd his rest with terrors ! Whence shalt thou 
 The poor man's happiness of sleep regain? 
 Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see 
 Once more her captain ! Would the Gods had given 
 To thee and to thy country one day yet 
 To reap the latest fruit of such a love : 
 Though sure of fate to come. Thou marchest on 
 As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die ; 
 She conscious ever of her prayers for thee 
 Heard by the Gods, deemed not the Fates decreed 
 Such evil destiny, that she should lose 
 The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb. 
 Then young and old had blent their tears for thee, 
 And child unbidden ; women tore their hair 
 And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead. 
 But now no public woe - shall greet thy death 
 As erst thy praise was heard : but men shall grieve 
 In silent sorrow, though the victor's voice 
 
CAESAR'S SPEECH BEFORE PHARSALIA. 859 
 
 Amid the clash, of aims proclaims thy fall ; 
 
 Though incense smoke before the Thunderer's shrine 
 
 And shouts of welcome bid great Caesar hail. 
 
 — Translation of Edward Ridley. 
 
 OESAK'S SPEECH BEFOBE PHAESALIA. 
 
 Ye conquerors of a world, my hope in all, 
 
 Prayed for so oft, the dawn of fight is come. 
 
 No more entreat the Gods : with sword in hand 
 
 Seize on our fates ; and Csesar in your deeds 
 
 This day is great or little. This the day 
 
 For which I hold since Bubicon was past 
 
 Your promise given : for this we flew to arms : 
 
 For this deferred the triumphs we had won, 
 
 And which the foe refused : this gives you back 
 
 Your homes and kindred and the peaceful farm, 
 
 Your prize for years of service in the field. 
 
 And by the Fates' command this day shall prove 
 
 Whose quarrel juster : for defeat is guilt 
 
 To him on whom it falls. If in my cause 
 
 With fire and sword ye did your country wrong, 
 
 Strike for acquittal. Should another judge 
 
 This war, not Csesar, none were blameless found. 
 
 Not for my sake this battle, but for you, 
 
 To give you, soldiers, liberty and law 
 
 'Gainst all the world. Wishful myself for life 
 
 Apart from public cares and for the gown 
 
 That robes the private citizen, I refuse 
 
 To yield from office till the law allows 
 
 Your right in all things. On my shoulders rest 
 
 All blame : all power be yours. Nor deep the blood 
 
 Between yourselves and conquest. Grecian schools 
 
 Of exercise and wrestling send us here 
 
 Their chosen darlings to await your swords ; 
 
 And scarcely armed for war, a dissonant crowd 
 
 Barbaric, that will start to hear our trump, 
 
 Nay, their own clamour ! Not in civil strife 
 
 Your blows shall fall — the battle of to-day 
 
 Sweeps from the earth the enemies of Eome. 
 
 Dash through these cowards and their vaunted kings 
 
360 MARCUS ANNJBUS LUCANUS. 
 
 One stroke of sword and all the world is yours ! 
 
 Make plain to all men that the crowds who deckt 
 
 Pompeius' hundred pageants scarce were fit 
 
 For one poor triumph. Shall Armenia care 
 
 Who leads her masters, or barbarian shed 
 
 One drop of blood to make Pompeius chief 
 
 O'er our Italia ? Rome, 't is Rome they hate 
 
 And all her children ; yet they hate the most 
 
 Those whom they know. My fate is in the hands 
 
 Of you, mine own true soldiers, proved in all 
 
 The wars we fought in Gallia. When the sword 
 
 Of each of you shall strike, I know the hand : 
 
 The javelin's flight to me betrays the arm 
 
 That launcht it hurtling : and to-day once more 
 
 I see the faces stern, the threatening eyes, 
 
 Unfailing proofs of victory to come. 
 
 E'en now the battle rushes on my sight ; 
 
 Kings trodden down and scattered senators 
 
 Fill all the ensanguined plain, and peoples float 
 
 Unnumbered on the crimson tide of death. 
 
 Enough of words — I but delay the Fates ; 
 
 And you who burn to dash into the fray, 
 
 Forgive the pause ! I tremble with the hopes 
 
 Thus finding utterance. I ne'er have seen 
 
 J&b mighty Gods so near ; this little field 
 
 Alone dividing us ; their hands are full 
 
 Of my "^destined honours : for 't is I 
 
 Who, when this war is done, shall have the power 
 
 O'er all that peoples, all that kings enjoy 
 
 To shower it where I will. But has the pole 
 
 Been moved, or in its nightly course some star 
 
 Turned backwards, that such mighty deeds should pass 
 
 Here on Thessalian earth ? To-day we reap 
 
 Of all our wars the harvest or the doom. 
 
 Think of the cross that threats us, and the chain, 
 
 Limbs hackt asunder, Caesar's head displayed 
 
 Upon the rostra ; and that narrow field 
 
 Piled up with slaughter : for this hostile chief 
 
 Is savage Sulla's pupil. 'T is for you, 
 
 If conquered, that I grieve : my lot apart 
 
 Is cast long since. This sword, should one of you 
 
 Turn from the battle ere the foe be fled, 
 
 Shall rob the life of Caesar ! ye Gods, 
 
POMPETS SPEECH BEFORE PHARSALIA. 361 
 
 Drawn down from heaven by the throes of Eome, 
 
 May he be conqueror who shall not draw 
 
 Against the vanquisht an inhuman sword, 
 
 Nor count it as a crime if men of Eome 
 
 Preferred another's standard to his own. 
 
 Pontpeius' sword drank deep Italian blood 
 
 When cabined in yon space the brave man's arm 
 
 No more found room to strike. But you, I pray, 
 
 Touch not the foe who turns him from the fight, 
 
 A fellow-citizen, a foe no more ! 
 
 But while the gleaming weapons threaten still 
 
 Let no fond memories unnerve the arm, 
 
 No pious thought of father or of kin ; 
 
 But full in face of brother or of sire, 
 
 Drive home the blade. Unless the slain be known, 
 
 Your foes account his slaughter as a crime ; 
 
 Spare not our camp, but lay the rampart low 
 
 And fill the fosse with ruin ; not a man 
 
 But holds his post within the ranks to-day. 
 
 And yonder tents, deserted by the foe, 
 
 Shall give us shelter when the rout is done. 
 
 — Translation of Edward Kidlet- 
 
 
 POMPEY'S SPEECH BEFOEE PHAR&AIIA. 
 
 i 
 
 The day 
 Your bravery demands, that final end 
 Of civil war ye askt for, is at hand. 
 Put forth your strength, your all ; the sword to-day 
 Does its last work. One crowded hour is charged 
 With nations' destinies. Whoe'er of you 
 Longs for his land and home, his wife and child, 
 Seek them with sword. Here in mid battle-field, 
 The Gods place all at stake. Our better right 
 Bids us expect their favour ; they shall dip 
 Your brands in Caesar's blood, and thus shall give 
 Another sanction to the laws of Eome, 
 Our cause of battle. If for him were meant 
 An empire o'er the world, had they not put 
 An end to Magnus' life ? That I am chief 
 Of all these mingled peoples and of Eome 
 
\ 
 
 362 
 
 MARCUS ANN^EUS LUCANUS. 
 
 Disproves an angry heaven. See here combined 
 All means of victory. Noble men have sought 
 Unaskt the risks of war. Our soldiers boast 
 Ancestral statues. If to us were given 
 A Curius, if Camillus were returned 
 Or patriot Decius to devote his life, 
 Here would they take their stand. From farthest East 
 All nations gathered, cities as the sand 
 Unnumbered, give their aid : a world complete 
 Serves 'neath our standards. North and South and all 
 Who have their being 'neath the starry vault, 
 Here meet in arms conjoined. And shall we not 
 Crush with our closing wing this paltry foe ? 
 I Few shall find room to strike ; the rest with voice 
 [ Must be content to aid ; for Caesar's ranks 
 
 Suffice not for us. Think from Eome's high walls 
 The matrons watch you with their hair unbound ; 
 Think that the Senate hoar, too old for arms, 
 With snowy locks outspread ; and Eome herself, 
 \The world's high mistress, fearing now, alas ! 
 A despot — all exhort you to the fight. 
 Think that the people that is and that shall be 
 Jofas in the prayer — in freedom to be born, 
 Ii} freedom die, their wish. If mid these vows 
 Be ^j.ll -^ound place for mine, with wife and child, 
 So far"ks Operator may, I bend 
 Before yolrLuppliant — unless this fight 
 Be won, behold me exile, your disgrace, 
 My kinsman's scorn. From this, 't is yours to save. 
 Then save ! Nor in the latest stage of life, 
 Let Magnus be a slave ! 
 
 — Translation of Edward Eidlet. 
 
 CATO AT THE ORACLE OF AMMON. 
 
 What, Labienus, should I seeke to knowe ? 
 If I had rather dye in armes than bow 
 Unto a Lord ; if life be nought at all ? 
 No difference betwixt long life and small ? 
 If any force can hurt men vertuous ? 
 If fortune loose, when vertue doth oppose 
 
CLEOPATRA'S PALACE. 363 
 
 Her threats, if good desires be happinesse 
 
 And vertue grow not greater by successe ? 
 
 Thus much we know, nor deeper can the skill 
 
 Of Ammon teach. The gods are with us still ; 
 
 And though their oracles should silent be, 
 
 Nought can we doe without the gods decree ; 
 
 Nor heeds he voices ; what was fit to know 
 
 The great Creator at our births did show. 
 
 Nor did he choose these barren sands to shew 
 
 (Hiding it heere) his trueth but to a few. 
 
 Is there a seate of God, save earth and sea, 
 
 Aire, heaven and vertue ? Why for God should we 
 
 Seeke further ? What ere moves, what ere is seene 
 
 Is Jove. For oracles let doubtful men 
 
 Fearefull of future chances troubled be ; 
 
 Sure death, not oracles ascertaine me, 
 
 The coward and the valiant man must fall, 
 
 This is enough for Jove to speake to all. 
 
 — Translation of Sir Thomas Mat. 
 
 CLEOPATKA'S PALACE. 
 
 jf 
 
 First uprose the b $5] 
 Like to a fane which this corrupted age 
 Could scarcely rear ; the lofty ceiling shJ^P/* 
 With richest tracery, the beams were bound 
 In golden coverings ; no scant veneer 
 Lay on its walls, but built in solid blocks 
 Of marble, gleamed the palace. Agate stood 
 In sturdy columns, bearing up the roof ; 
 Onyx and porphyry on the spacious floor 
 Were trodden 'neath the foot ; the mighty gates 
 Of Maroe's ebony throughout were formed, 
 No mere adornment ; ivory clothed the hall, 
 And fixt upon the doors with labour rare 
 Shell of the tortoise gleamed, from Indian seas, 
 With frequent emeralds studded. Gems of price 
 And yellow jasper on the couches shone. 
 Lustrous the coverlets ; the major part 
 Dipt more than once within the vats of Tyre 
 Had drunk their juice : part feathered as with gold 
 
\ 
 
 364 
 
 MARCUS ANNMUS LUCANUS. 
 
 Part crimson dyed, in manner as are past 
 
 Through Pharian leash the threads. There waited slaves 
 
 In number as a people, some in ranks 
 
 By different blood distinguisht, some by age ; 
 
 This band with Libyan, that with auburn hair 
 
 Bed so that Caesar on the banks of Ehine 
 
 None such had witnest; some with features scorcht 
 
 By torrid suns, their locks in twisted coils 
 
 Drawn from their foreheads. Eunuchs too were there, 
 
 Unhappy race ; and on the other side 
 
 Men of full age whose cheeks with growth of hair 
 
 Were hardly darkened. 
 
 Upon either hand 
 Lay kings, and Caesar in the midst supreme. 
 There in her fatal beauty lay the Queen 
 \ Thick-daubed with unguents, nor with throne content 
 > Nor with her brother spouse ; laden she lay 
 \ On neck and hair with all the Eed Sea spoils, 
 X \nd faint beneath the weight of gems and gold. 
 Itter snowy breast shone through Sidonian lawn 
 "Vlj^hich woven close by shuttles of the East 
 T^e art of Nile had loosened. Ivory feet 
 • "Boru c ftron tables brought from woods that wave 
 On <^as, such as Caesar never saw 
 Wvj r JV^ba was his captive. Blind in soul, 
 By m^news* of ambition, thus to fire 
 By such pPiVasion of her wealth, the mind 
 Of Caesar armed, her guest in civil war. 
 Not though he aimed with pitiless hand to grasp 
 The riches of a world ; not though were here 
 Those ancient leaders of the simple age, 
 Eabricius, or Curius stern of soul, 
 Or he, who, Consul, left in sordid garb 
 His Tuscan plough, could all their several hopes 
 Have risen to such spoil. On plates of gold 
 They piled the banquet sought in earth and air 
 And from the deepest seas and Nilus' waves, 
 Through all the world ; in craving for display, 
 No hunger urging. Frequent birds and beasts, 
 Egypt's high gods, they placed upon the board : 
 In crystal goblets water of the Nile 
 They handed, and in massive cups of price 
 Was poured the wine ; no juice of Mareot grape 
 
CLEOPATRA'S PALACE. 365 
 
 But noble vintage of Falernian growth 
 
 Which in few years in Meroe's vats had foamed 
 
 (For such the clime) to ripeness. On their brows 
 
 Chaplets were placed of roses ever young 
 
 With glistening nard entwined ; and in their locks 
 
 Was cinnamon infused, not yet in air 
 
 Its fragrance perisht, nor in foreign climes ; 
 
 And rich amomum from the neighbouring fields. 
 
 Thus Caesar learned the booty of a world 
 
 To lavish and his breast was shamed of war 
 
 Waged with his son-in-law for meagre spoil. 
 
 — Translation of Edward Ridley. 
 

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