CXVII

ἁνὴρ γὰρ οὐ στενακτός

Te semel o iterumque sinant meminisse dolores
ut meliorem aevi vixerit ille diem.
Apriles tulerat flores, non ille Decembri
pectora letali senserat arta gelu.
ignarus brumae, veris comes ibat in agris
inque pavimento versicolore soli.
deliciis oculos, dulcedine mulserat aures:
risit in adventu, risit in interitu.

risit in interitu quem mors semel abstulit: at tu nonne peragrasti sola Acheruntis aquas? sola doles: illi datur intemerata voluptas,

ille incorruptis gaudet imaginibus.

illi, si qua inhonesta homines, si qua impia norint, ferre, dolere, mori, nil nisi nomen erant. his puerum lucis hora opportuna canendo

foverat; urget hiemps: ut venit, ille fugit.

CXVIII

MEDEA

A. S. W.

Ast inter medios tremulum Medea per aequor litora prospectans, animo permulta volutat, muta tuens; mox quae secum pretiosa ferebat scrutatur cistamque capit qua plurimus intus annulus ac torques; detractamque inde coronam siccis pallentem foliis capiti indere pergit. iamque ubi flaventi paullum distabat harena, stans celsa in puppi, qui vos, ait, acria quondam pectora, torpor habet? quidve has spectatis ad oras suffusi lacrimis oculos lentisque lacertis,

et trepidat magno turbatum pectus amore?

at procul iste animis abeat furor; excitat ignem perpetuum hic Circe, superum de sanguine monstrum, Circe feminei generis doctissima, prudens

fingere delicias, quas siquis senserit amens appetere incassum nunquam desistet, at illum labentes domitis hebetabunt sensibus anni

inclusum forma deformi et pelle ferina.

CXIX

Then what charm company
Can give, know I,—if wine
Go round, or throats combine
To set dumb music free.
Or deep in wintertide

When winds without make moan,

I love my own fireside
Not least when most alone.

Then oft I turn the page
In which our country's name,
Spoiling the Greek of fame,
Shall sound in every age:
Or some Terentian play
Renew, whose excellent
Adjusted folds betray
How once Menander went.

Or if grave study suit
The yet unwearied brain,
Plato can teach again,
And Socrates dispute;

Till fancy in a dream

Confront their souls with mine,
Crowning the mind supreme,
And her delights divine.

While pleasure yet can be
Pleasant, and fancy sweet
I bid all care retreat

From my philosophy;

Which, when I come to try
Your simpler life, will find,
I doubt not, joys to vie
With those I leave behind.

R. Bridges.

CXIX

DISSOLVE FRIGUS, LIGNA SUPER FOCO
LARGE REPONENS

Quantum hospitalis mensa iuvet viros,
novi, rubentes ordine cum scyphi
traduntur, et pleno tacentem

turba frequens ciet ore Musam.
delectat et me, dum Boreas gemit
brumalis extra limina, dum crepant
flammae, vel adsistente nullo

ante Larem proprium sedere. versare chartas tum iuvat Angliae magnum sonantes nomen, et inclitam laudem renarrantes in aevum,

Graecia cui spoliata cedit.

est cum Terenti fabula non semel
perlecta mirae composito togae
splendore monstrat, quid Menander
ediderit: modo me Platonis

doctrina, si vis provocat ingeni
illaesa, et acer Socratis erudit
sermo volentem: fas ab umbris
ambo animas revocare, menti
sponte adfuturas, quae fruitur caput
praecincta lauru colloquio Deum :
quas dextra dum praestant fruendas
fata dapes, vacat hora cura.
sin nosse vitae gaudia simplicis
tecum licebit, me sapientia
divina, quae certent relictis,
carpere delicias iubebit.

CXX

FROM THE SONG OF THE LAUREL'

(1)

Under Olympus, divinity-haunted,

Lies a rich valley, Apollo, of thine; Lowland and upland, with grey olive planted, Lovely in spring, but in summer divine.

Deep in its heart, where the gorges are narrow, Moist with the foam-dew afloat from the glen, Silver Peneius, a white water arrow,

Enters in thunder and issues again.

Hither at morn, when the mountain in shadow
Rested, untroubled as yet of the noon,
Came truant Naiads afoot through the meadow,
Twining wet grasses to petals of June.
Pleasure and youth, ankle-deep in the lotus,
Chasing the bee, and outsinging the bird;

Never of late, since Impiety smote us,

Voices as sweet by our rivers are heard.

Couched in mid cover, the singer Apollo,

God of the forest and king of the bow, Watching his deer as they drank in the hollow, Marked the divine apparition below.

Glowing immortal had seldom beholden
Bosom more snowy or sunnier hair,

And in the prime of the age that was golden,
Gods were but frail when a Naiad was fair.

CXX

AUREA PRIMA SATA EST AETAS

(1)

Sanctus ubi, divom sedes, exsurgit Olympus, numine Phoebeo vallis opima iacet:

sunt iuga; sunt latebrae, pallens ubi frondet oliva;
vere placent, vernas duplicat aestus opes.
est ubi in angustas se contrahit intima fauces
vallis, et excusso spumea rore madet:
Peneus vitream torquens argenteus hastam
huc ruit, hinc resonis turbidus exit aquis.
mane erat, et leni se mons involverat umbra,
nec medio sensit spicula saeva die:
Naiadumque cohors per roscida prata vagantum
nectebat roseis iuncea vincla comis.

it Venus, it talos cytiso contecta Voluptas;
vincit apem cursu, carmine vincit aves.
non tam iucundos, ex quo mortalia vexat
impietas, captant flumina nostra sonos.
at deus in multa corylo latitabat Apollo,

quem silvae dominum, quem sua tela vocant. dumque notat cervos ima sub valle bibentes, cernit flumineas obstipuitque deas.

pectora cum nivibus certant, cum sole capilli, qualia vix Phoebi noverat ante furor:

et nova dum tellus, atque aurea saecla vigebant, Naiadum poterat vincere forma deos.