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Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

Nor in the glist'ring foil

Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumor lies, 80

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;

As he pronounces lastly on each deed,

Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed.

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honor'd flood, 85
Smooth-fliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds,
That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
But now my oat proceeds,
And listens to the herald of the sea
That came in Neptune's plea; 90

He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the fellon winds,
What hard mishap had doom'd this gentle swain?
Andquestion'd every gust of rugged wings,
That blows from off each beaked promontory;
They knew not of his story, 95

And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd,
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark 100

Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
That funk so low that sacred head of thine.

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing flow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105

K k 2 Like Like to that sanguin flow'r inscrib'd with woe.

All! Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?

Last came, and last did go,

The pilot of the Galilean lake,

Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, no

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain)

He shook his miter'd locks, and stern bespake,

How well could I have spar'd for thee young swain,

Enow of such as for their bellies fake

Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? 115

Of other care they little reck'ning make,

Than how to scramble at the shearers feast,

And shove away the worthy bidden guest; (hold

Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to

A sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least

That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 121

What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;

And when they list, their lean and flashy songs,

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;

The hungry flieep look up, and are not fed; 125

But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:

Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw

Daily devours apace, and nothing said,

But that two-handed engin at the door 130

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse,

And

And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flourets of.a thousand hues. 135
Ye Valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,
That on the green turf fuck the honied showers, 140
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet,
The glowing violet, 145

The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
With cowflips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flow'r that fad embroidery wears:
Bid amarantus all his beauty shed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150

To strow the laureat herse where Lycid lies.
For so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding seas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, 155
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 160

Where the great vision of the guarded mount

Looks Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold; Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth: And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

Weep no more, woeful Shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, 166

Sunk though he be beneath the watry floor;
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: 171
So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves,
Where other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 175

And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood. 185

Thus fang the uncouth swain to th'oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals gray, He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:

And

And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, igo
And now was dropt into the western bay;
At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

XVIII.

The Fifth ODE of Horace, Lib. I. Quis multa gracilis te puer in rofa, rendred almost word for word without rime, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit.

WHAT flender youth bedew'd withliquid odors Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrah? for whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair, Plain in thy neatness? O how oft shall he 5

On faith and changed Gods complain, and seas

Rough with black winds and storms

Unwonted shall admire! Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold, Who always vacant always amiable 10

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they To whom thou untry'dseem'st fair. Me in myvow'd Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung

My dank and dropping weeds 15

To the stern God of sea.

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