And while I follow her in thought, bemoan
With tears, my soul's delight so quickly flown.
When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast,
So Vulcan sorrow'd for Olympus lost,

And so Oeclides, sinking into night,

From the deep gulf look'd up to distant light.

Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remain, Who cannot cease to love, yet love in vain ? Oh could I once, once more behold the fair, Speak to her, tell her of the pangs I bear, Perhaps she is not adamant, would show Perhaps some pity at my tale of wo. Oh inauspicious flame-'tis mine to prove A matchless instance of disastrous love. Ah spare me, gentle pow'r !-If such thou be, Let not thy deeds, and nature, disagree. Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine With vow and sacrifice, save only thine. Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts: Now own thee sov'reign of all human hearts. Remove! no-grant me still this raging wo! Sweet is the wretchedness that lovers know: But pierce hereafter (should I chance to see One destin'd mine) at once both her and me,

Such were the trophies, that, in earlier days; By vanity seduced, I toil'd to raise, Studious, yet indolent, and urg'd by youth, That worst of teachers! from the ways of truth;

Till learning taught me, in his shady bow'r,
To quit love's servile yoke, and spurn his pow'r.
Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame supprest,
A frost continual settled on my breast,
Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see,
And Venus dreads a Diomede in me.

EPIGRAMS.

ON THE INVENTOR OF GUNS,

PRAISE in old time the sage Prometheus won Who stole æthereal radiance from the sun; But greater he, whose bold invention strove To emulate the fiery bolts of Jove.

[The poems on the subject of the Gunpowder Treason I have not translated, both because the matter of them is unpleasant, and because they are written with an asperity, which, however it might be warranted in Milton's days, would be extremely unseasonable now.]

TO LEONORA SINGING AT ROME.*

ANOTHER Leonora once inspir'd

Tasso, with fatal love to phrensy fir'd,

I have translated only two of the three poetical compliments addressed to Leonora, as they appear to me far superior to what I have omitted.

N 2

But how much happier, liv'd he now, were he,
Pierc'd with whatever pangs for love of thee!
Since could he hear that heavenly voice of thine,
With Adriana's lute of sound divine,

Fiercer than Pentheus' though his eye might roll,
Or ideot apathy benumb his soul,

You still, with medicinal sounds, might cheer
His senses wandering in a blind career;

And sweetly breathing through his wounded breast,
Charm, with soul-soothing song, his thoughts to rest.

TO THE SAME.

NAPLES, too credulous, ah ! boast no more The sweet voic'd Siren buried on thy shore, That, when Parthenope deceas'd, she gave Her sacred dust to a Chalcidic grave,

For still she lives, but has exchang'd the hoarse
Pausilipo for Tiber's placid course,

Where, idol of all Rome, she now in chains,
Of magic song, both gods and men detains.

THE COTTAGER AND HIS LANDLORD.

A FABLE.

A PEASANT to his lord pay'd yearly court, Presenting pippins, of so rich a sort,

That he, displeas'd to have a part alone,
Remov'd the tree, that all might be his own.
The tree, too old to travel, though before

So fruitful, wither'd, and would yield no more.
The 'squire, perceiving all his labour void,
Curs'd his own pains, so foolishly employ'd,
And "Oh," he cried, "that I had lived content
With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant !
My av'rice has expensive prov'd to me,
Has cost me both my pippins and my tree."

ΤΟ

CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN,

WITH

CROMWELL'S PICTURE.

CHRISTINA, maiden of heroic mein ! Star of the north of northern stars the queen ? Behold what wrinkles I have earn'd, and how The iron casque still chafes my vet'ran brow, While following fate's dark footsteps, I fulfil The dictates of a hardy people's will. But soften'd, in thy sight, my looks appear, Not to all Queens or Kings alike severe.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

ON THE

DEATH OF THE VICE-CHANCELLOR,

A PHYSICIAN.

LEARN, ye nations of the earth,
The condition of your birth,
Now be taught your feeble state!
Know that all must yield to fate!

If the mournful rover, Death,

Say but once-" resign your breath!"
Vainly of escape you dream,

You must pass the Stygian stream.

Could the stoutest overcome

Death's assault, and baffle doom,
Hercules had both withstood,
Undiseas'd by Nessus' blood.

Ne'er had Hector press'd the plain,
By a trick of Pallas slain,

Nor the chief to Jove allied

By Achilles' phantom died.

Could enchantments life prolong,
Circe, sav'd by magic song,