1

Thus, while gray evening lull'd the wind, and call'd Fresh odours from the shubb'ry at my side,

Taking my lonely winding walk, I mus'd,
And held accustom'd conference with my heart,
When, from within it, thus a voice replied.

"Couldst thou in truth? and art thou taught at length This wisdom, and but this, from all the past?

Is not the pardon of thy long arrear,

Time wasted, violated laws, abuse
Of talents, judgments, mercies, better far
Than opportunity vouchsaf'd to err
With less excuse, and haply, worse effect?"

I heard, and acquiesced; then to and fro
Oft pacing, as the mariner his deck,
My grav'lly bounds, from self to human kind
I pass'd, and next consider'd-

-what is Man?

Knows he his origin? can he ascend By reminiscence to his earliest date? Slept he in Adam? and in those from him Through num'rous generations, till he found At length his destin'd moment to be born? Or was he not, till fashion'd in the womb? Deep myst'ries both! which schoolmen much have toil'd To unriddle, and have left them myst'ries still.

And of the worst, that unexplor❜d he leaves
Truths useful and attainable with ease,

To search forbidden deeps, where myst'ry lies.
Not to be solv'd, and useless if it might.
Myst'ries are food for angels; they digest
With ease, and find them nutriment; but man,
While yet he dwells below, must stoop to glean
His manna from the ground, or starve and die.

Two nymphs, both nearly of an age,
Of num'rous charms possess'd,
A warm dispute once chanc'd to wage,
Whose temper was the best.

The worth of each had been complete
Had both alike been mild.
But one, although her smile was sweet,
Frown'd oftener than she smil'd.

And in her humour, when she frown'd
Would raise her voice and roar,
And shake with fury to the ground
The garland that she wore.

The other was of gentler cast,
From all such frenzy clear,
Her frowns were seldom known to last,
And never prov'd severe.

To poets of renown in song

The nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judg'd it wrong, And gave misplaced applause.

They gentle call'd, and kind and soft,
The flippant and the scold,

And though she chang'd her mood so oft,
That failing left untold.

No judges, sure, were e'er so mad,
Or so resolv'd to err-

In short, the charms her sister had
They lavish'd all on her.

Then thus the god whom fondly they
Their great inspirer call,

Was heard, one genial summer's day,
To reprimand them all.

"Since thus ye have combin'd," he said,

My favourite nymph to slight,

Adorning May, that peevish maid,
With June's undoubted right.

"The Minx shall for your folly's sake, Still prove herself a shrew,

Shall make your scribbling fingers ache,

And pinch your noses blue.

TRANSLATIONS

OF THE

LATIN AND ITALIAN POEMS

OF

MILTON.

[Begun, September, 1791. Finished, March, 1792.] 13*

TRANSLATIONS

OF

THE LATIN POEMS,

&c. &c.

ELEGIES.

ELEGY I.

TO CHARLES DIODATI.

Ar length, my friend, the far sent letters come
Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home;
They come, at length, from Deva's Western side
Where prone she seeks the salt Vergivian tide.
Trust me, my joy is great that thou shouldst be,
Though born of foreign race, yet born for me,
And that my sprightly friend, now free to roam,
Must seek again so soon his wonted home.
I well content, where Thames with refluent tide,
My native city laves, meantime reside,
Nor zeal nor duty, now, my steps impel

To reedy Cam, and my forbidden cell.
Nor aught of pleasure in those fields have I,
That, to the musing bard, all shade deny.