Hope plants the forest, and she sows the plain; "So may her g ave with rising flowers be drest, "And the green turf lie lightly on her breast'. Ah me! will nought avail? the world I'll fly, And, prostrate at her tomb, a suppliant sigh! To her attentive ghost, of you complain; Tell my long sorrowing, tell of your disdain: Oft, when alive, in my behalf she spoke: Your endless coyness must her shade provoke: With ugly dreams she'll haunt your hour of rest, And weep before you an unwelcome guest! Ghastly and pale, as when besmear'd with blood, Oh fatal fall! she pass'd the Stygian flood. No more, my strains! your eyes with tears o'erflow, I wish thee, Phryne! then, a thousand woes; INTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD BOOK. Some words in the elegies of this book are of that sort, which are frequently used by the best writers catachrestically, sometimes denoting more lax, sometimes more intimate relations. The difficulty of ascertaining the sense in which Tibullus has used them, has thrown a seeming obscurity on a poet, who will ever have the first place amongst the wits of Greece and Rome, for elegant simplicity; and has caused such illustrious annotators as Scaliger, Lipsius, and Muretus, to stumble. The great difficulty is contained in the following lines; and if this can be cleared up, all the rest will be easy and intelligible. El. I. lin. 23. 'Pope's verses To the Memory of an unfortumate Lady. C. Hæc tibi vir quondamn, nunc frater, casta Neæra, Where it is first inquired, what is meant by frater and soror? It is readily seen, that they cannot be understood in their primitive sense, because a marriage betwixt brother and sister would never have been tolerated at Rome: the very thoughts of it would have been regarded with abhorrence. These words sometimes mean cousin-germans, and in this sense Muretus here understands them; but this is too cold and unanimated to be admitted into poetry, or to flow from the pen of Tibullus, when he is expressing the tender feelings of a fond doating lover. It is much more probable, that he designed to represent by them one of those delicate connections, which have their foundation in the will and the affections; that by frater he would have us to understand a fond admirer; and by soror, a beloved mistress, who had entertained a reciprocal kindness and esteem for her lover. This sense of the words is familiar to most languages. Nothing can be more full to this purpose than what we meet with in the canticles of Solomon," Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse,”— ch. iv. ver. 9. and in several other places. Ovid also has used the words in this sense: Alloquor Hermione nuper fratremque virumque, Nunc fratrem, nomen conjugis alter habet. And the Greeks had so accustomed themselves to this use of them, that we find their Venus has a title given her by Lycophron, which his scholiast explains by << The adiλpomolov, the author of brotherly associations." And assigns this pretty whimsical reason for it: "For a commerce in love matters makes those who were strangers, brothers; and those who would carry on an amorous commerce secretly, say of one they favour, he is my brother, he is my relation." Having solved, we hope, this difficulty, we shall next consider what is the import of vir and conjunt. They certainly were designed to express some nearer connection, some closer tie, than mere friendship, or whatever else is comprehended in frater and soror. The epithet casta, given to Neæra, will not permit us to understand them of any loose amour; that title never could belong to a jilt, who had granted favours to one lover, and, upon some caprice, had thrown herself into the arms of another: but divorces were common enough at Rome, so that even a wife might dismiss her husband upon some displeasure taken, at least before actual matrimony, without hurting her reputation by it: so that I think husband and wife are the true meaning of vir and conjunr. This interpretation however is not without difficulties: the silence of antiquity, and several other circumstances, make the marriage of Tibullus appear improbable; it has therefore been supposed by Lipsius, that quondam was intended to express future, and not past time. It cannot be denied, that it is sometimes thus used; but it more commonly signifies the time past, or formerly; and to understand it otherwise here, would make the construction harsh and ungrammatical. Sed veniat caræ matris comitata dolore, And again, Sic Nemesis longum, sic Delia nomen habebit: Altera cura recens, altera primus amor. Ovid seems to have carefully searched out every curious particular of Tibullus's life, and therefore could not have overlooked so striking a circumstance as the distresses celebrated in these Elegies, if they had really happened to Tibulius. He and his cotemporaries of the Augustan age, were probably well inform d of the true reason of Tibullus's composing the following book. Some such distress might have happened, and been much talked of in Rome; and Tibullus might seize upon it as a favourable opportunity for displaying his elegiac genius in its full lustre. Propertius has made the same use of the misfortunes of a noble family, in Lygdamus hic situs est, dolor buic & cura Neæræ the twelfth Elegy of Book iv. It is a common arConjugis ereptæ causa perire fuit. In the third Elegy, Oh niveam quæ te poterit mihi reddere lucem, And again, Aut, si fata negant reditum tristesque sorores. In El. iv. Nec gaudet casta nupta Neæra domo. One must torture these passages extremely, to make them consistent with any thing else but a previous marriage, or at least a very solemn contract. Was Tibullus then married? or did he intend at all to marry Neæra? I am not inclined to think so, as none of the ancient writers have given us the least hint of it. But the poet is not tied down to actual life: Pictoribus atque poctis tifice with delicate writers, to sigh and tell a piteous tale, while their hearts are not at all affected. BOOK III. THY calends, Mars! are come, from whence of old, MUSES. Gold wins the venal, verse the lovely maid: POET. The sacrifice of Iphigenia at Aulis, is probably a mere fable; and yet what noble, what affecting, what interesting scenes of distress have both the tragedian and painter formed upon it? And might not Tibullus, to indulge his plaintive humour, and to display the soft feelings of his soul, chuse to represent himself in a situation that forms one of the most melting and agonizing distresses, to be found amongst those beds of thorns and roses which Love prepares for his capricious votaries? A beloved wife, grown dearer by more intimate acquaintance, charming without the help of artifice, and rooted in the soul by a thousand repeated endearments, torn from the arms of an enraptured husband, whilst he still doats upon her, and ready to be sa- And once could clasp them in his nuptial arms, crificed to another;-what feeling heart but shud-This volume sends; and humbly hopes, that you, ders at the thought?-especially when the delicate With kind indulgence, will the present view. affecting colours are laid on by the pencil of Ti-You, you! he prizes more, he vows, than life; bullus? The names certainly are fictitious; Neæra was as trite a name for a mistress in Rome, as Phyllis or Cloe with our modern sonnetteers. And what confirms me in the opinion, that the distress painted in these elegies is also fictitious, so far as Tibullus is concerned in it, is, that Ovid, in his poem on Tibullus's death, takes notice of no other mistress but Delia and Nemesis; to one of whom he assigns the last, to the other the first interest in him, without any intermediate favourite. Fair maids of Pindus! I your counsel praise: Still a lov'd sister, or again his wife. THE SECOND ELEGY. HARD was the first, who ventur'd to divide flow! Come, Death! transport me to thy realms below. THE FOURTH ELEGY. More hard the bridegroom, who can bear the day, | Cease, breast, to heave! cease anxious blood to Thus, by you both lamented, let me die, THE THIRD ELEGY. WHY did I supplicate the powers divine? And bounteous autumn glad my countless swains: Can treasur'd gold the tortur'd breast compose? With you; without you, crowns could give no ease. If I solicit still in vain the sky, Nor power, nor all the wealth this globe contains, LAST night's ill-boding dreams, ye gods, avert! Now night had lav'd her coursers in the main, A bloom like his, when ting'd by autumn's pride, [show'd A Tyrian tunic to his ancles flow'd, "All hail, thou care of Heaven! (a virtuous bard "She who is still your ever cons ant care, Whose form when night has wrapp'd in black the Cheats in soft vision your enamour'd soul; [pole, Neara! whose bright charms your verse displays, Seeks a new lover, and inconstant strays! For thee no more with mutual warmth she burns, But thy chaste house, and chaste embrace, she spurns. "O cruel, perjur'd, false, intriguing sex! "Yet, as the sex will change, avoid despair; "Tho' false the fair, tho' Love is wild, obey: Or, youth, you know not Love's tyraunic sway. In plaintive strains address the haughty fair; The haughty soften at the voice of prayer. If ever true my Delphian answers prove, Bear this my message to the maid you love. "Pride of your sex, and passion of the age! No more let other men your love engage; A bard on you the Delian god bestows, This match alone can warrant your repose." He sung. When Morpheus from my pillow flew, And plung'd me in substantial griefs anew. Ah! who could think that thou had'st broke thy VOWS, That thou, Neæra! sought'st another spouse? THE FIFTH ELEGY. WHILE you at Tuscan baths for pleasure stay, (Too hot when Sirius darts his sultry ray, Tho' now that purple spring adorns the trees, Not Baia's more medicinal than these,) Me harder fates attend, my youth decays; Yet spare, Persephone! my blameless days: With secret wickedness unstung my soul; I never mix'd, nor gave the baneful bowl; I ne'er the holy mysteries proclaim'd; I fir'd no temple, and no god defam'd; Age has not snow'd my jetty locks with white, Nor bent my body, nor decay'd my sight; (When both the consuls fell, ah fatal morn! Fatal to Roman freedom! I was born.) Apples unripe, what folly 'tis to pull, Or crush the cluster ere the grapes are full! Ye gloomy gods! whom Acheron obeys, Thrice five long days and nights consum'd with Mean time, to deprecate the fierce disease, THE SIXTH ELEGY. LOVER. COME, Bacchus, come! so may the mystic vine COMPANION. Those may the fair with practis'd guile abuse, Who, sourly wise, the gay dispute refuse: The jolly god can cheerfulness impart, Enlarge the soul, and pour out all the heart. LOVER. But love the monsters of the wood can tame, The wildest tigers own the powerful flame: He bends the stubborn to his awful sway, And melts insensibility away: So wide the reign of love! COMPANION. Wine, wine, dear boy! Her son, LOVER. Or her, whom all my sufferings cannot move! -What pray'd I rashly for? my madding prayer, Ye winds! disperse, unratified, in air: For though, my love! I'm blotted from your soul, Serenely rise your days, serenely roll! COMPANION. The love-sick struggle past, again be gay: Come, crown'd with roses, let's drink down the day! LOVER. Ah me! loud-laughing mirth how hard to feign! When doom'd a victim to love's dreadful pain: How forc'd the drunken catch, the smiling jest, When black solicitude annoys the breast! COMPANION. Complaints, away! the blythsome god of wine Abhors to hear his genuine votaries whine. LOVER. You, Ariadne! on a coast unknown, The perjur'd Theseus wept, and wept alone; But learn'd Catullus, in immortal strains, Has sung his baseness, and has wept your pains. COMPANION. Thrice happy they, who hear experience call, And shun the precipice where others fall. When the fair clasps you to her breast, beware, Nor trust her, by her eyes altho' she swear; Not tho', to drive suspicion from your breast, Or love's soft queen, or Juno she attest; No truth the women know; their looks are lies. LOVER. Yet Jove connives at amorous perjuries. Hence, serious thoughts! then why do I complain? The fair are licenc'd by the gods to feign. Yet would the guardian powers of gentle love, This once indulgent to my wishes prove, Each day we then should laugh, and talk, and toy, And pass each night in hymeneal joy. O let my passion fix thy faithless heart! For still I love thee, faithless as thou art! Bacchus the Naiad loves; then haste, my boy! My wine to temper cooler streams employ. What though the smiling board Neæra flies, And in a rival's arms perfidious lies, The live-long night, all sleepless, must I whine? Not I COMPANION. Quick, servants! bring us stronger wine. LOVER. Now Syrian odours scent the festal room, Let rosy garlands on our foreheads bloom. THE SEVENTH ELEGY. To you my tongue eternal fealty swore, You only please, and lovely seem alone. I dread two rivals, I'm suspicious grown; Your charms the most insensate heart must move; Would you were beauteous in my eyes alone! I want not man to envy my sweet fate, I little care that others think me blest; Of happy conquests let the coxcomb prate; Vain-glorious vaunts the silent wise detest. Supremely pleas'd with you, my heavenly fair! In any trackless desert I could dwell; From our recess your smiles would banish care, Your eyes give lustre to the midnight cell. For various converse I should long no more, The blythe, the moral, witty, and severe; Its various arts are her's, whom I adore; She can depress, exalt, instruct, and cheer. Should mighty Jove send down from Heaven a maid, With Venus' cestus zon'd, my faith to try, (So, as I truth declare, me Juno aid!) For you I'd scorn the charmer of the sky. But hold! you're mad to vow, unthinking fool! Yet let her use me with neglect, disdain; THE POEMS OF SULPICIA. ADVERTISEMENT. SOME of the best modern commentators contead, that the little poems which compose this fourth book are not the work of Tibullus. Their chief arguments are derived from the language and sentiment; in both which, it is said, and with more justice than is common on such occa VOL. XX. sions, that they bear no resemblance to our poet's productions. But if the following little pieces are not the composition of Tibullus, to whom shall we impute them? Shall we, with Caspar Barthius, and Broekhusius, ascribe them to Sulpicia, the wife of Calenus, who flourished in the reign of Domitian? This opinion is by no means improbable, for |