"If Alain bending o'er his crystal urn,

"Swift-whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadowed stream, 250 "Thames, lovelier far than all in my esteem, "Tamar's ore-tinctured flood, and, after these, '' The wave-worn shores of utmost Orcades.

"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare;"My thoughts are all now due to other care."All this I kept in leaves of laurel-rind "Enfolded safe, and for thy view designed "This, and a gift from Manso's hand beside "(Manso, not least his native city's pride), "Two cups that radiant as their giver shone, 260 "Adorned by sculpture with a double zone. "The spring was graven there; here slowly wind"The Red-sea shores, with groves of spices lined;"Her plumes of various hues amid the boughs"The sacred, solitary Phcenix shows, '' And, watchful of the dawn, reverts her head "To see Aurora leave her watery bed.— '' In other part, the expansive vault above, "And there too, even there, the god of love; "With quiver armed he mounts, his torch displays 270 "A vivid light, his gem-tipt arrows blaze, "Around his bright and fiery eyes he rolls, "Nor aims at vulgar minds or little souls, "Nor deigns one look below,"but aiming high "Sends every arrow to the lofty sky; "Hence forms divine, and minds immortal, leani "The power of Cupid, and enamoured burn."Thou, also, Damon (neither need I fear"That hope delusive), thou art also there;"For whither should simplicity like thine 280 "Retire? where else such spotless virtue shine?"Thou dwellest not (thought profane) in shades below, "Nor tears suit thee;—cease then my tears to flow!"Away with grief, on Damon ill bestowed!"Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode,"Has passed the showery arch, henceforth resides"With saints and heroes, and from flowing tides"Quaffs copious immortality and joy,"With hallowed lips!—Oh! blest without alloy, "And now enriched with all that faith can claim, 290 "Look down, entreated by whatever name, "If Damon please thee most (that rural sound "Shall oft with echoes fill the groves around) "Or if Deodatus, by which alone "In those ethereal mansions thou art known. "Thy blush was maiden, and thy youth the taste "Of wedded bliss knew never, pure and chaste: "The honours, therefore, by divine decree "The lot of virgin worth, are given to thee; "Thy brows encircled with a radiant band, 300

"And the green palm-branch waving in thy hand,
"Thou in immortal nuptials shalt rejoice,
"And join with seraphs thy according voice,
"Where rapture reigns, and the ecstatic lyre
"Guides the blest orgies of the blazing quire."




This Ode is rendered without rhyme, that it might more adequately represent the original, which, as Milton himself informs us, is of no certain measure. It may possibly for this reason disappoint the reader, though it cost the writer more labour than the translation of any other piece in the whole collection.—C.


Mv twofold book! single in show,

But double in contents,
Neat, but not curiously adorned,

Which, in his early youth,
A poet gave, no lofty one in truth,
Although an earnest wooer of the muse—
Say while in cool Ausonian shades

Or British wilds he roamed,
Striking by turns his native lyre,

By turns the Daunian lute, IO

And stepped almost in air;


Say, little book, what furtive hand
Thee from thy fellow-books conveyed,
What time, at the repeated suit
Of my most learned friend,
I sent thee forth, an honoured traveller,
From our great city to the source of Thames,

Caerulean sire;
Where rise the fountains, and the raptures ring

Of the Aonian choir, 20
Durable as yonder spheres,
And through the endless lapse of years
Secure to be admired?


Now what god, or demigod,
For Britain's ancient genius moved
(If our afflicted land

Have expiated at length the guilty sloth Of her degenerate sons) Shall terminate our impious feuds, And discipline, with hallowed voice, recall? Recall the Muses too, Driven from their ancient seats In Albion, and well-nigh from Albion's shore, And with keen Phcebean shafts Piercing the unseemly birds, Whose talons menace us, Shall drive the harpy race from Helicon afar?


But thou, my book, though thou hast strayed,

Whether by treachery lost,
Or indolent neglect, thy bearer's fault,

From all thy kindred books,
To some dark cell, or cave forlorn,
Where thou endurest, perhaps,
The chafing of some hard untutored hand,

Be comforted—
For lo! again the splendid hope appears

That thou mayest yet escape
The gulfs of Lethe, and on oary wings
Mount to the everlasting courts of Jove!

Strophe III.

Since Rouse desires thee, and complains

That though by promise his,
Thou yet appearest not in thy place
Among the literary noble stores

Given to his care,
But, absent, leavest his numbers incomplete
He, therefore, guardian vigilant
Of that unperishing wealth,
Calls thee to the interior shrine, his charge,
Where he intends a richer treasure far
Than Ion kept (Ion, Erectheus' son
Illustrious, of the fair Creiisa born)
In the resplendent temple of his god,
Tripods of gold, and Delphic gifts divine.

Haste, then, to the pleasant groves,
The Muses' favourite haunt;
Resume thy station in Apollo's dome,

Dearer to him
Than Delos, or the forked Parnassian hill!
Exulting go,

H n

Since now a splendid lot is also thine, 70
And thou art sought by my propitious friend;For there thou shalt be read With authors of exalted note,
The ancient glorious lights of Greece and Rome.


Ye then, my works, no longer vain
And worthless deemed by me!
Whate er this steril genius has produced
Expect, at last, the rage of Envy spent,
An unmolested happy home,
Gift of kind Hermes, and my watchful friend; 80
Where never flippant tongue profane
Shall entrance find,
And whence the coarse unlettered multitude
Shall babble far remote.
Perhaps some future distant age,
Less tinged with prejudice, and better taught,
Shall furnish minds of power
To judge more equally.
Then, Malice silenced in the tomb, Cooler heads and sounder hearts, 90
Thanks to Rouse, if aught of praise
I merit, shall with candour weigh the claim.



Fair Lady! whose harmonious name the Rhine,
Through all his grassy vale, delights to hear, Base were indeed the wretch who could forbear
To love a spirit elegant as thine,
That manifests a sweetness all divine,

Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare,
And graces, which Love's bow and arrows are,
Tempering thy virtues to a softer shine.
When gracefully thou speakest, or singest gay,
Such strains as might the senseless forest move,
Ah then—turn each his eyes and ears away,
Who feels himself unworthy of thy love!
Grace can alone preserve him, ere the dart
Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart.


As on a hill-top rude, when closing day Imbrowns the scene, some pastoral maiden fair
Waters a lovely foreign plant with care,
Borne from its native genial airs away,

That scarcely can its tender bud display;

So on my tongue these accents, new and rare,
Are flowers exotic, which Love waters there.
While thus, O sweetly scornful! I essay

Thy praise in verse to British ears unknown,
And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain;
So Love has willed, and ofttimes Love has shown

That what he wills he never wills in vain.
Oh that this hard and steril breast might be
To Him, who plants from heaven, a soil as free!


Thev mock my toil—the nymphs and amorous swains—

"And whence this fond attempt to write," they cry,

"Love-songs in language that thou little knowest?

"How darest thou risk to sing these foreign strains?

"Say truly,—findest not oft thy purpose crossed,

"And that thy fairest flowers here fade and die?" Then, with pretence of admiration high—

"T-hee other shores expect, and other tides;

"Rivers, on whose grassy sides

"Her deathless laurel leaf, with which to bind

"Thy flowing locks, already Fame provides;

"Why then this burthen, better far declined?"

Speak, Muse! for me.—The fair one said, who guides' My willing heart, and all my fancy's flights, "Th}s is the language in which Love delights."



Charles—and I say it wondering—thou must know
That I, who once assumed a scornful air,
And scoffed at Love, am fallen in his snare;
(Full many an upright man has fallen so.)

H H s

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