E UTYCHOBULUS TO A CESTODORUS

Fortune , my friend, I've often thought,
Is weak, if Art assist her not:
So equally all Arts are vain,
If Fortune help them not again:
They've little lustre of their own,
If separate, and view'd alone;
But when together they unite,
They lend each other mutual light. —
But since all symphony seems long
To those impatient for the song,
And lest my apothegms should fail,
I'll haste to enter on my tale.

Once on a time,(for time has been,

E UHEMERUS TO L EUCIPPUS

Hither , ye travellers, who've known
The beauties of the Eastern zone,
Or those who sparkle in the West:
Hither — oh, tell, and truly tell,
That few can equal, none excel,
The fair who captivates my breast.

Survey her in whatever light —
New beauties still engage your sight:
Nor does a single fault appear.
Momus might search, and search again,
But all his searches would be vain,

P HILOPLATANUS TO A NTHOCOME .

Blest was my lot — ah! sure 'twas bliss, my friend,
The day — by heavens! the long live day to spend
With Love and my Limona! Hence! in vain
Would mimic Fancy bring those scenes again;
In vain delighted memory tries to raise
My doubtful song, and aid my will to praise.
In vain! Nor fancy strikes, nor memory knows,
The little springs from whence those joys arose,
Yet come, coy Fancy, sympathetic maid!
Yes, I will ask, I will implore thy aid:
For I would tell my friend whate'er befell;

A RISTÆNETUS TO P HILOCALUS .

Blest with a form of heavenly frame,
Blest with a soul beyond that form,
With more than mortal ought to claim,
With all that can a mortal warm,
Lais was from her birth design'd
To charm, yet triumph o'er mankind.
There Nature, lavish of her store,
Gave all she could, and wish'd for more;
Whilst Venus gazed, her form was such!
Wondering how Nature gave so much;
Yet added she new charms, for she

LI

The wanderer came for quiet, to forget
The blighted hope, the inexpiable wrong,
To soften here in solitude regret
Of a love stamped immortal in his song,
That but for him had lain the dead among.
Vain essay! Wouldst thou memories conceal,
Or forms or thoughts that to the past belong,
If the heart's wounds corroding thou wouldst heal,

XLI

He stood and watched where over Baiae's shore,
Like a material god the sun declined,
Called on the hearts that watched him to adore;
Thus had he walked, his track had left behind
A glory undecaying 'mid mankind,
A blessing felt, and hallowed in his course,
Hero or sage to deathless fame consigned;
What was he now? — a blight, a withering curse,

XXXI

A wilderness of flowers around us lying,
Tangling our steps, the hidden pathway throng,
Vines twine o'er latticed shades, and myrtles sighing,
As the wind wakes their branches into song,
Heaven's cloudless azure the bright days prolong;
Glassing the hyaline, the deep serene,
Heard far below responds her solemn tongue;

XXI

Or turn to the patrician's marble hall,
Where the slave chainless now, doth sit alone,
Vengeance and his red hand have burst his thrall;
Lifeless his slaughtered victims round are thrown,
Wild his fierce triumph, all is now his own
Save freedom, how escape the ash-heaped door?
Through one thick wall his cleaving axe hath flown,

XI

The house of Diomed, the pleasant place
Of the refined patrician, where the hand
Of luxury ruled, and art traced forms of grace
That, from time hidden could decay withstand;
Playthings that shall again resolve to sand,
Opened to skyey influence and air,
All that his vanity or fondness planned;
The law of nature they again must share,

PART IV.

I

Y ET again buried, mid the beautiful,
The myrtle-bowers round which vines clustering throng
O'er latticed roofs that cast down shadows cool,
As the air sighs their tendrilled leaves along,
Forget the desolate; the skull among
Arcadian flowers; the shade of death that sate
At the life-feast and chilled the festal song.