Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

THE LILY AND THE ROSE.

I.

THE nymph must lose her female friend,

If more admired than she

But where will fierce contention end,

If flowers can disagree?

II.

Within the garden's peaceful scene

Appeared two lovely foes,

Aspiring to the rank of

queen,

The Lily and the Rose.

III.

The Rose soon reddened into rage,

And swelling with disdain,

Appealed to many a poet's page

To prove her right to reign.

IV.

The Lily's height bespoke command,

A fair imperial flower;

She seemed designed for Flora's hand,

[blocks in formation]

This civil bickering and debate

The goddess chanced to hear,

And flew to save, ere yet too late,

The pride of the parterre;

VI.

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,

And yours the statelier mien;

And, till a third surpasses you,

Let each be deemed a queen.

VII.

Thus, soothed and reconciled, each seeks

The fairest British fair:

The seat of empire is her cheeks,

They reign united there.

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.

I.

HEU inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma, Quam raro pulchræ pulchra placere potest?

Sed fines ultrà solitos discordia tendit,

Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.

II.

Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessûs,
Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas;

Hic sibi regales Amaryllis candida cultûs,
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa.

III.

Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt, Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinû,

Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatûm, Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat.

IV.

Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,
Ceu flores inter non habitura parem,
Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usûs

Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat.

V.

Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ,
Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes.
Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri,
Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adest.

VI.

Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit,
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color,
Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.

VII.

His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham, Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;

Hanc penés imperium est, nihil optant amplius,hujus Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.

THE POPLAR FIELD.

THE poplars are felled, farewell to the shade, And the whispering sound of the cool colonade; The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse in his bosom their image receives.

Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a view
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew;
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade.

The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene, where his melody charmed me before,
Resounds with his sweet flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,

« ForrigeFortsæt »