ON MILTIADES.

MILTIADES! thy valour best
(Although in every region known)
The men of Persia can attest,
Taught by thyself at Marathon.

ON AN INFANT.

BEWAIL not much, my parents! me, the prey Of ruthless Ades, and sepulchred here. An infant, in my fifth scarce finish'd year, He found all sportive, innocent, and gay, Your young Callimachus; and if I knew Not many joys, my griefs were also few.

BY HERACLIDES.

IN Cnidus born, the consort I became Of Euphron. Aretimias was my name. His bed I shar'd, nor prov'd a barren bride, But bore two children at a birth, and died. One child I leave to solace and uphold Euphron hereafter, when infirm and old. And one, for his remembrance sake, I bear To Pluto's realm, till he shall join me there.

ON THE REED.

I was of late a barren plant,
Useless, insignificant,

Nor fig, nor grape, nor apple bore,
A native of the marshy shore;
But gather'd for poetic use,

And plung'd into a sable juice,
Of which my modicum I sip,
With narrow mouth and slender lip,
At once, although by nature dumb,
All eloquent I have become,
And speak with fluency untir'd,
As if by Phoebus' self inspir'd.

TO HEALTH.

ELDEST born of pow'rs divine!
Blest Hygeia! be it mine,

To enjoy what thou canst give,
And henceforth with thee to live.
For in pow'r if pleasure be,
Wealth, or num'rous progeny,
Or in amorous embrace,

Where no spy infests the place;
Or in aught that Heav'n bestows
To alleviate human woes,

Bb

When the wearied heart despairs
Of a respite from its cares;
These and ev'ry true delight
Flourish only in thy sight;

And the sister Graces Three

Owe, themselves, their youth to thee,
Without whom we may possess

Much, but never happiness.

ON

THE ASTROLOGERS.

TH' Astrologers did all alike presage My uncle's dying in extreme old age, One only disagreed. But he was wise, And spoke not, till he heard the fun'ral cries,

ON

AN OLD WOMAN.

MYCILLA dyes her locks 'tis said;

But 'tis a foul aspersion,

She buys them black; they therefore need
No subsequent immersion

ON INVALIDS.

FAR happier are the dead, methinks, than they, Who look for death, and fear it ev'ry day.

ON FLATTERERS.

No mischief worthier of our fear
In nature can be found,
Than friendship, in ostent sincere,
But hollow and unsound.

For lull'd into a dangerous dream,

We close infold a foe,

Who strikes, when most secure we seem,
Th' inevitable blow.

ON THE SWALLOW.

ATTIC maid! with honey fed,

Bear'st thou to thy callow brood

Yonder locust from the mead,

Destin'd their delicious food!

Ye have kindred voices clear,
Ye alike unfold the wing,

Migrate hither, sojourn here,

Both attendant on the spring!

Ah for pity drop the prize;

Let it not, with truth, be said,
That a songster gasps and dies,
That a songster may be fed.

ON

LATE ACQUIRED WEALTH.

Poor in my youth, and in life's later scenes
Rich to no end, I curse my natal hour;

Who naught enjoy'd, while young, deny'd the means;
And naught, when old, enjoy'd, deny'd the pow'r.

ON

A TRUE FRIEND.

HAST thou a friend? Thou hast indeed
A rich and large supply,
Treasure to serve your ev'ry need,
Well manag'd, till you die.

ON

A BATH, BY PLATO.

DID Cytherea to the skies

From this pellucid lymph arise?