The Rose soon redden'd into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,
Appeal'd to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.
The Lily's height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flow'r ;
She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her pow'r.
This civil bick'ring and debate
The goddess chanc'd to hear,
And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre.
Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;
And, till a third surpasses you,
Let each be deem'd a queen.
Thus, sooth'd and reconcil'd, each seeks
The fairest British fair:
The seat of empire is her checks,
They reign united there.
Heu inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma,
Quam raro pulchræ pulchra placere potest!
Sed fines ultra solitos discordia tendit,
Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.
Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessus,
Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas;
Hic sibi regales Amaryllis candida cultus,
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa.
Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt,
Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinu,
Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatum,
Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat.
Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,
Ceu flores inter non habitura parem,
Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus
Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat
Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ,
Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes,
Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri,
Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adest.
Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit;
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color;
Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.
His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham,
Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;
Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius,
Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.
The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elaps'd, since I last took a view
Of my favorite field, and the bank where they grew;
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade
The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene, where his melody charm'd me before,
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
'Tis a sight to engage me, if any thing can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he. *
* Mr. Cowper afterwards altered this last stanza in the following
The change both my heart and my fancy employs,
I reflect on the frailty of man, and his joys;
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.
Populeæ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ,
Conticuêre susurri, omnisque evanuit umbra,
Nullæ jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ,
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago.
Hei mihi! bis senos dum luctu torqueor annos,
His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessu,
Cum serò rediens, stratasque in gramine cernens,
Insedi arboribus, sub queîs errare solebam.
Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permissa bipenni ;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit.
Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse,
Et priùs huic parilis quàm creverit altera silva
Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, habebo
Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum.
Tam subitò periisse videns tam digna manere,
Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata--
Sit licèt ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
Est homini brevior citiúsque obitura voluptas.
O Matutini rores, auræque salubres, O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ, Graminei colles, et amœnæ in vallibus umbræ ! Fata modò dederint quas olim in rure paterno Delicias, procul arte, procul formidine novi. Quàm vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper avebat, Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam, Tum demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis, Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi!
Sub sepe exiguum est, nec rarò in margine ripæ,
Reptile, quod lucet nocte, dieque latet.
Vermis habet speciem, sed häbet de lumine nome
At priscâ à famâ non liquet, unde micet.
Plerique à caudâ credunt procedere lumen ;
Nec desunt, credunt qui rutilare caput.
Nam superas stellas quæ nox accendit, et illi
Parcam eadem lucem dat, moduloque parem.
Forsitan hoc prudens voluit Natura caveri,
Ne pede quis duro reptile contereret:
Exiguam, in tenebris ne gressum offenderet ullus,
Prætendi voluit forsitan illa facem.
Sive usum hunc Natura parens, seu maluit illum,
Haud frustra accensa est lux, radiique dati.
Ponite vos fastus, humiles nec spernite, magni ;
Quando habet et minimum reptile, quod niteat.
TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING.
Beneath the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray ;
That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honor to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure-the hand of night,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportion'd to his size.
Perhaps indulgent Nature meant,
By such a lamp bestow'd,
To bid the trav'ller, as he went,
Be careful where he trod:
Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,
To show a stumbling stone by night,
And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain,
'Tis pow'r almighty bids him shine,
Nor bids him shine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendor too.
Nigras inter aves avis est, quæ plurima turres, Antiquas ædes, celsaque fana colit.
Nil tam sublime est, quod non audace volatu,
Aeriis spernens inferiora, petit,
Quo nemo ascendat cui non vertige cerebrum
Corripiat, certè hunc seligit illa locum.
Quo vix à terra tu suspicis absque tremore,
Illa metûs expers incolumisque sedet.
Lamina delubri supra fastigia, ventus
Quâ cœli spiret de regione, docet ;
Hanc ea præ reliquis mavult, secura pericli,
Nec curat, nedum cogitat, unde cadat.
Res inde humanas, sed summa per otia, spectat,
Et nihil ad sese, quas videt, esse videt.
Concursus spectat, plateâque negotia in omni,
Omnia pro nugis at sapienter habet.
Clamores, quas infra audit, si forsitan audit,
Pro rebus nihili negligit, et crocitat.
Ille tibi invideat, felix Cornicula, pennas,
Qui sic humanis rebus abesse velit.
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