He richly stored with liberal arts

Thy chains shall bind o'er captive hearts,
And spread thy trophies wide;
And if he smile, by thee made bold,
Triumphant o'er his rival's gold,
On Lake Albano's side

Thy marble form shall stand portrayed,
With beams of cedar overlaid.

Nor shall the mingled strain be mute
Of Lyre, and Berecynthian flute,
When youths and virgins round,
Led by the Salian priest shall greet
Thy name, and tread with snowy
In choral dance the ground;
While incense steaming to the skies
Attests the bloodless sacrifice.

feet

Me neither gentle woman's love,
Nor that fond cred'lous hope can move,

Which warms each mutual vow;

No more the jolly task be mine
To pass around the flowing wine,

Or wreathe with flowers my brow.
Yet why, Corinna, tell me why
Do silent tears bedew mine eye?

Namque et nobilis et decens

Et pro sollicitis non tacitus reis,

Et centum puer artium,

Late signa feret militiæ tuæ :

Et quandoque potentior

Largis muneribus riserit æmuli,

Albanos prope te lacus

Ponet marmoream sub trabe Cypria.

Illic plurima naribus

Duces tura, lyræque et Berecyntiæ Delectabere tibiæ

Mistis carminibus, non sine fistula.

Illic bis pueri die

Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum Laudantes, pede candido

In morem Saliûm ter quatient humum.

Me nec femina nec puer

Jam, nec spes animi credula mutui,

Nec certare juvat mero,

Nec vincire novis tempora floribus.

Sed cur, heu! Ligurine, cur

Manat rara meas lacryma per genas

?

Why doth my faltering tongue refuse
Its wonted eloquence, nor choose
T'express the secret thought?

While dreams my sleeping hours invade,
And paint thee through the midnight shade
A willing captive brought;
Sometimes pursued o'er dale and hill,
Sometimes beneath the eddying rill.

OBSERVATIONS.

This beautiful Ode to the Goddess of Love will be found slightly varied from the original, but not, in such respect, for the worse in the concluding stanzas.

Jan. 26, 1852.

Cur facunda parum decoro

Inter verba cadit lingua silentio?

Nocturnis ego somniis

Jam captum teneo; jam volucrem sequor Te per gramina Martii

Campi; te per aquas, dure, volubiles.

ODE II.

TO ANTONIUS IULUS.

WHOE'ER, Iulus, dares aspire
To rival the Pindaric Lyre,
But soars on Dædalean plume,

And flaps his wax-bound wings in vain,
Like Icarus to find a tomb

Beneath the glassy main,

Leaving a name the tale to tell,

Of what he dared, and whence he fell.

As the swoln stream from mountains freed Bursts o'er its banks, and sweeps the mead, The fervid tide of Pindar's song

Boils with impetuous might along.

Worthy his brow Apollo's wreath to wear, Whether in Dithyrambics bold

Of phrase unused the march is rolled,

And looser numbers cheat the ear;