With dire lustrations she began the rite!
(Serenely shone the planet of the uight)
The magic gods she call'd with hellish sound,
A sable sacrifice distain'd the ground—
I stopp'd the spell: I must not, cannot part:
I begg'd her aid to gain a mutual heart.

THE THIRD elegy.

WHILE you, Messala, plough th' Ægean sea,
O sometimes kindly deign to think of me:
Me, hapless me, Phæacian shores detain,
Unknown, unpitied, and oppress'd with pain.
Yet spare me, Death, ah spare me and retire:
No weeping mother's here to light my pyre:
Here is no sister, with a sister's woe,
Rich Syrian odours on the pile to throw:
But chief, my soul's soft partner is not here,
Her locks to loose, and sorrow o'er my bier.
What tho' fair Delia my return implor'd,
Each fane frequented, and each god ador'd:
What tho' they bad me every peril brave;
And Fortune thrice auspicious omens gave;
All could not dry my tender Delia's tears,
Suppress her sighs, or calm her anxious fears;
Een as I strove to minister relief,
Unconscious tears proclaim'd my heart-felt grief:
Urg'd still to go, a thousand shifts I made,
Birds now, now festivals my voyage staid:
Or, if I struck my foot against the door,
Straight I return'd, and wisdom was no more.
Forbid by Cupid, let no swain depart,
Cupid is vengeful, and will wring his heart.

What do your offerings now, my fair, avail?
Your Isis heeds not, and your cymbals fail!
What, though array'd in sacred robes you stood,
Fled man's embrace, and sought the purest flood?
While this I write, I sensibly decay,―
"Assist me, Isis, drive my pains away:
That you can every mortal ill remove,
The numerous tablets in your temple prove:
So shall my Delia, veil'd in votive white,
Before your threshold sit for many a night;
And twice a day, her tresses all unbound,
Amid your votaries fam'd, your praises sound:
Safe to my bousehold gods may I return,
And incense monthly on their altars burn."

How blest man liv'd in Saturn's golden days, Ere distant climes were join'd by lengthen'd ways. Secure the pine upon the mountain grew, Nor yet o'er billows in the ocean flew; Then every clime a wild abundance bore, And man liv'd happy on his natal shore: For then no steed to feel the bit was broke, Then had no steer submitted to the yoke; No house had gates, (blest times!) and, in the grounds

No scanty landmarks parcell'd out the bounds: From every oak redundant honey ran,

And ewes spontaneous bore their milk to man:
No deathful arms were forg'd, no war was wag'd,
No rapine plunder'd, no ambition rag'd.

How chang'd, alas! Now cruel Jove commands;
Gold fires the soul, and falchions arm our hands:
Fach day, the main unnumber'd lives destroys;
And slaughter, daily, o'er her myriads joys.
Yet spare me, Jove, I ne'er disown'd thy sway,
I ne'er was perjur'd; spare me, Jove, I pray.

But, if the Sisters have pronounc'd my doom, Inscrib'd be these upon my humble tomb.

Then Love my ghost (for Love I still obey'd). Will grateful usher to th' Elysian shade: There joy and ceaseless revelry prevail; There soothing music floats on every gale; There painted warblers hop from spray to spray, And, wildly-pleasing, swell the general lay: There every hedge, untaught, with cassia b looms And scents the ambient air with rich perfumes: There every mead a various plenty yields; There lavish Flora paints the purple fields: With ceaseless light a brighter Phoebus glows, No sickness tortures, and no ocean flows; But youths associate with the gentle fair, And stung with pleasure to the shade repair: With them Love wanders wheresoe'er they stray, Provokes to rapture, and inflames the play: But chief, the constant few, by death betray'd, Reign, crown'd with myrtle, monarchs of the shade.

Not so the wicked; far they drag their chains, By black lakes sever'd from the blissful plains; Those should they pass, impassable the gate Where Cerb'rus howls, grim sentinel of fate. There snake-hair'd fiends with whips patrole around,

Rack'd anguish bellows, and the deeps resound:
There he, who dar'd to tempt the queen of Heaven,
Upon an ever-turning wheel is driven:

The Danaids there still strive huge casks to fill,
But strive in vain, the casks elude their skill:
There Pelop's sire, to quench his thirsty fires,
Still tries the flood, and still the flood retires:
There vultures tear the bowls, and drink the gore,
Of Tityus, stretch'd enormous on the shore.
Dread love, as vast as endless be their pain
Who tempt my fair, or wish a long campaign.
O let no rival your affections share,
Long as this bosom beats, my lovely fair!
Still on you let your prudent nurse attend;
She'll guard your honour, she's our common

friend.

[sleep.

Her tales of love your sorrowings will allay,
And, in my absence, make my Delia gay:
Let her o'er all your virgin train preside,
She'll praise th' industrious, and the lazy chide.
But see! on all enfeebling languors creep;
Their distaffs drop, they yawn, they nod, they
Then, if the destinies propitious prove,
Then will I rush, all passion, on my love:
My wish'd return no messenger shall tell,
I'll seem, my fair, as if from Heaven 1 fell.
A soft confusion flushes all your charms,
Your graceful dishabille my bosom warms,
Yon, Delia, fly and clasp me in your arms.

For this surprise, ye powers of love, I pray,
Post on Aurora, bring the rosy day.

THE FOURTH ELEGY.

POET.

So round, my god, may shady coverings bend,
No sun-beams scorch thy face, no shows offend!
Whence are the fair so proud to win thy heart,
Yet rude thy beard, and guiltless thou of art?
Naked thou stand'st, expos'd to wintery snows!
Naked thou stand'st, when burning Sirius glows -

Thus I-and thus the garden-power reply'd, A crooked sickle glittering by his side.

PRIAPUS.

sire!

o'er:

Now forests bloom, and purple earth looks gay;
Bleak winter blows, and all her charms decay:
How soon the steed to age's stiffness yields,
So lare a victor in th' Olympic fields?
I've seen the aged oft lament their fate,
That senseless they had learnt to live too late.
Ye partial gods, and can the snake renew,
His youthful vigour, and his burnish'd hue?
But youth and beauty past; is art in vain
To bring the coy deserters back again?

POET.

Jove gives alone the pow'rs of wit and wine, In youth immortal, spite of years, to shine.

PRIAPUS.

Yield prompt compliance to the maid's desires;
A prompt compliance fans the lover's fires:
Go pleas'd where'er she goes, tho' long the way,
Tho' the fierce Dog-star dart his sultry ray;
Tho' painted Iris gird the bluish sky,
And sure portends, that rattling storms are nigh:
Or, if the fair-one pant for sylvan fame,
Gay drag the meshes, and provoke the game:
Nay, should she choose to risk the driving gale;
Or steer, or row, or agile hand the sail:
No toil, tho' weak, tho' fearful, thou forbear;
No toils should tire you, and no dangers scare:
Occasion smiles, then snatch an ardent kiss;
The coy may struggle, but will grant the bliss:
The bliss obtain'd, the fictious struggle past,
Unbid, they'll clasp you in their arms at last.

POET.

Alas! in such degenerate days as these, No more love's gentle wiles the beauteous please! If poor, all gentle stratagems are vain! The fair-ones languish now alone for gain! O may dishonour be the wretch's share, Who first with hateful gold seduc'd the fair!

PRIAPUS.

Ye charming dames, prefer the tuneful quire, Nor meanly barter heavenly charms for hire. What cannot song? The purple locks that glow'd On Nisus' head, harmonious song bestow'd! What cannot strains? By tun ful strains alone Fair ivy, Pelops, on thy shoulder shone! While stars with nightly radiance gild the role, Earth boasts her oaks, or mighty waters roll,

The god, no novice in th' intriguing trade, This answer, Titius, to my question made: But caution bids you fly th' insidious fair, And paints the perils of their eyes and air; Nor these alone, devoted man subdue, Devoted man their slightest actions woo.

Be cautious those who list--but ye who know Desire's hot fever, and contempt's chill woe; Me grateful praise-contempt shall pain no more; But wish meet wish, instructed by my lore: By various means, while others seek for fame, Scorn'd love to counsel be my noblest aim. Wide stands my gate for all-1 rapt foresee The time, when I love's oracle shall be! When round my seat shall press th' enamour'd throng,

Attend my motions, and applaud my song.

Alas! my hopes are fled, my wiles are vain; The fair, I doat on, treats me with disdain: Yet spare me, charmer, your disdain betrays To witty laughter my too boastful lays.

THE FIFTH ELEGY.

Or late I boasted I could happy be,
Resume the man, and not my Delia see!
And boasts of manhood, boasts of bliss are rain;
Back to my bondage I return again!

And like a top am whirl'd, which boys, for sport,
Lash on the pavement of a level court!

What can atone, my fair, for crimes like these? I'll bear with patience, use me as you please! Yet, by Love's shafts, and by your braided hair, By all the joys we stole, your suppliant spare. When sickness dimm'd, of late, your radiant eyes; My restless, fond petitions won the skies. Thrice I with sulphur purified you round, And thrice the rite, with songs, th' enchantress bound:

The cake, by me thrice sprinkled, put to flight
The death-denouncing phantoms of the night:
And I nine times, in linen garbs array'd,
In silent night, nine times to Trivia pray'd.
What did I not? Yet what reward have 1?
You love another, your preserver fly!
He tastes the sweet effects of all my cares,
My fond lustrations, and my so'emn prayers.

Are these the joys my madding faucy drew,
If young-ey'd Health restor❜d your rosy hue?
I fondly thought, sweet maid, oh thought in vain !
With you to live a blithesome village-swain.
When yellow Ceres asks the reaper's hand,
"Delia" (said I)" will guard the reaper's band;
Delia will keep, when hinds unload the vine,
The choicest grapes for me, the richest wine:
My flocks she'll count, and oft will sweetly deiga
To clasp some prattler of my menial train :

With pious care will load each rural shrine,
For ripen'd crops a golden sheaf assign,

Cates for my fold, rich clusters for my vine:
No, no domestic care shall touch my soul;
You, Delia, reign despotic o'er the whole!
And will Messala fly from pomp of state,
And deign to enter at my lowly gate?
The choicest fruitage, that my trees afford,
Delia will cull herself, to deck the board;
And wondering, such transcendant worth to see,
The fruit present, thy blushing hand-maid she."
Such were the foud chimeras of my brain,
Which now the winds have wafted o'er the main.
Opower of love, whom still my soul obey'd,
What has my tongue against my mother said?
Gukiess of ill, unmark'd with incest's stain,
I stole no garland from her holy fane:

For crimes, like these, I'd abject crawl the ground, Kiss her dread threshold, and my forehead wound. But ye who, falsely wise, deride my pains, Beware; your hour approaches-Love has chains. I've known the young, who ridicul'd his rage, Love's humblest vassals, when oppress'd with

age:

Fach art I've known them try to win the fair, Smooth their hoarse voice, and dress their scanty hair;

I've known them in the street, her maid detain;
And weeping, beg her to assist their pain.
At such preposterous love, each school-boy sueers:
duns, as an omen; or pursues with fleers.

Why do you crush your slave, fair queen of joy?

Destroying me, your harvest you destroy!

THE SIXTH ELEGY.

WITH wine, I strove to sooth my love-sick soul,
But vengeful Cupid dash'd with tears the bowl:
All mad with rage, to kinder nymphs I flew;
But vigour fled me, when I thought on you.
Bak'd of the rapture, from iny arms they run,
Swear I'm devoted, and my converse shun!

By what dire witchcraft am I thus betray'd?
Your face and hair unnerve me, matchless maid:
Not more celestial look'd the sea-born fair,
Receiv'd by Peleus from her pearly chair.
A rich adinirer his addresses paid;
And br.b'd my mistress by a beldam's aid.
From you my ruin, curst procuress, rose;
What imprecations shall avenge my woes?
May Heaven, in pity to my sufferings, shed
I's keenest mischief on your plotting head!
The ghosts of those, you robb'd of love's delight,
la horrid visions haunt your irksome night!
And, on the chimney, may the boding owl
Your rest disturb, and terrify your soul !
By famine stung, to church-yards may you run;
There, feast on offals, hungry wolves would shun!
Or, howling frantie, iu a tatter'd gown,
Fierce mastifls bait you thro' each crowded town!
Tis done! a lover's curse the gods approve;
But keenest vengeance fires the queen of love.
ave then, my fair, the crafty venal jade;
What passion yields not, when such foes invade?
Your hearts, ye fair, does modest merit claim?
Tho' small his fortunes, feed his gentle flame;
For, genuine love's soft raptures would ye know?
These raptures menit can alone bestow:

The sons of opulence are folly's care,

But want's rough child is sense, and honour's heir.

In vain we sing-the gate still bolted stan Is; Come, Vengeance, let us burst its sullen bands. Learn, happy rival, by my wrongs to know Your fate; since Fortune governs all below.

THE SEVENTH ELEGY.

LOVE still invites me with a smiling eye!
Beneath his smiles, what pains and anguish lie?
Yet since the gods, dread power, must yield to
thee!
[me?
What laurels canst thou gain from conquering
Me Delia lov'd; but by thy subtle wiles,
The fair, in secret, on another smiles:
That my suspicion's false, 'tis true, she swears;
And backs her imprecations with her tears!
False fair, your oaths, and syren tears refrain;
Your syren tears and oaths no credit gain;
For when your lord suspected me of yore,
As much you wept, as many oaths you swore.
Yet wherefore blame I Love? the b ame is mine;
I, wretched I, first taught her to design!
I first instructed her, her spies to foil!
Back on myself my wanton arts recoil:
Herbs of rare energy ny skid supplied,
All marks of too-fond gallantry to hide!
More artful now, alone the wanton lies;
And new pretexts her cozening brains devise.
Uncautious lord of a too cunning spouse!
Admittance grant me, she shall keep her vows!
Be warn'd, my friend, observe her when her
tongue
[young;
Commends in wanton phrase the gay-dress'd
O let her not her heaving bosom bare,
Expos'd to every fop's immodest stare.
When leaning on the board, with flowing wine,
She seems to draw some inconsiderate line.
Take heed, take heed, (I know the warning true)
These random lines assign an interview.
Nor let your wife to fanes so frequent roam,
A modest wife's best temple is at home:
But if your prohibitions all are vain,
Give me the hint, I'll dodge her to the fane;
What tho' the goddess snatch my curious sight,
I'll bring her wanton privacies to light.

Some gem she wore, I'd oft pretend to view,
But squeez'd her fingers unperceiv'd of you:
Oft with full racy bowls I seal'd your eyes,
Water my bev'ridge, and obtain'd the prize.
Yet since I tell, forgive the pranks I play'd,
Love prompted all, and love must be obey'd!

Nay, 'twas at me (be now the truth avow'd)
Your watchful mastiff us'd to bark so loud;
But now some other, with insidious wait,
Intent observes each creaking of your gate,
At which, whoever of the house appears,
Passing, the mien of quick despatch he wears;
But comes again, the minute they remove,
And coughs, sure signal of impatient love!

What boots, tho' marriage gave a wife so fair,
If careless you, or she eludes your care?
While men are artful, and your wife can feigu,
Vain are your brazen bolts, your mastiffs vain.

Cold to the raptures of the genial bed,
She lays the fault upon an aching head:
'Tis faise; the wanton for some other sighs;
From this, her coolness, this, her aches arise,