Carmen XXII.-AD ARISTIUM FUSCUM. Integer vitæ scelerisque purus Non eget Mauris jaculis neque arcu Fusce, pharetra, Sive per Syrtes iter æstuosas Lambit Hydaspes. Namque me silva lupus in Sabina, Quale portentum neque militaris Nec Juba tellus generat, leonum Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis Arbor æstiva recreatur aura, Quod latus mundi nebulæ malusque Jupiter urget; Pone sub curru nimium propinqui Solis in terra domibus negata: Dulce loquentem. Ode xxm.—To CHLOE. Chloe; you shun me like a hind Among the pathless hills: Vain fear her senses fills, She trembles at the passing breeze, If light leaves quivering Tell of the coming spring, Or lizards green stir brambles near In heart and knees she quakes with fear.— I follow not your flight, As a fierce tiger might, Or lion of Getulian race, Your tender beauties to deface; At length your mother leave, A husband's love receive. Carmen XXIII.- AD CHLOEN. Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloë, Matrem, non sine vano Aurarum et silüæ metu. Nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruit Adventus foliis seu virides rubum Dimovere lacertæ, Et corde et genibus tremit. Atqui non ego te, tigris ut aspera Gætulusve leo frangere persequor: Tandem desine matrem Tempestiva sequi viro. F Ode XXIV. TO VIRGIL. What shame, what limit, can there be And doth Quinctilius ever sleep? Of modest worth, who Faith unbroken (Thy sister, Justice) still would keep, And naked Truth hath ever spoken? Where find the like of him we weep? By many good men wept he died, By none, my Virgil, more than you : Vainly on virtue you relied You with vain prayers the Gods pursue, To us Quinctilius is denied. Though you a lyre of sweeter sound Should strike than Thracian Orpheus played When listening trees came thronging round, Your prayers were all in vain essayed; No blood could fill the empty shade Which Mercury, with dismal wand, Hath bade to death's dark ranks repair. Sad lot. But ever understand Patience makes each more lightly bear Evils which all alike must share. Carmen XXIV.-AD VIRGILIUM. Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus Ergo Quintilium perpetuus sopor Tu frustra pius heu! non ita creditum Quod si Threïcio blandius Orpheo : Quidquid corrigere est nefas. |