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"How often have I said (but thou hadst found
"Ere then thy dark cold lodgment under ground),
"Now Damon sings, or springes sets for hares,
"Or wickerwork for various use prepares!
"How oft, indulging fancy, have I planned
"New scenes of pleasure that I hoped at hand,
"Called thee abroad as I was wont, and cried,

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What, hoa! my friend, -come lay thy task aside, "Haste, let us forth together, and beguile

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The heat beneath yon whispering shades awhile, "Or on the margin stray of Colne's clear flood, "Or where Cassibelan's grey turrets stood! "There thou shalt cull me simples, and shalt teach "Thy friend the name and healing powers of each, 66 6 From the tall bluebell to the dwarfish weed, "What the dry land and what the marshes breed, 666 For all their kinds alike to thee are known,

"And the whole art of Galen is thy own.'

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Ah, perish Galen's art, and withered be

"The useless herbs that gave not health to thee!
"Twelve evenings since, as in poetic dream
"I meditating sat some statelier theme,

"The reeds no sooner touched my lip, though new
"And unessayed before, than wide they flew,
"Bursting their waxen bands, nor could sustain
"The deep-toned music of the solemn strain;
"And I am vain perhaps, but I will tell
"How proud a theme I chose,―ye groves, farewell!
"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare;

"My thoughts are all now due to other care. "Of Brutus, Dardan chief, my song shall be,

"How with his barks he ploughed the British sea,

"First from Rutupia's towering headland seen,
"And of his consort's reign, fair Imogen;
"Of Brennus and Belinus, brothers bold,
"And of Arviragus, and how of old
"Our hardy sires the Armorican controlled,
"And of the wife of Gorloïs, who, surprised

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By Uther, in her husband's form disguised "(Such was the force of Merlin's art), became Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame. "These themes I now revolve, and oh, if Fate "Proportion to these themes my lengthened date, "Adieu my shepherd's reed! yon pine-tree bough "Shall be thy future home; there dangle thou "Forgotten and disused, unless ere long "Thou change thy Latian for a British song; "A British?-even so,-the powers of man "Are bounded; little is the most he can : "And it shall well suffice me, and shall be "Fame, and proud recompense enough for me, "If Usa, golden-haired, my verse may learn.

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"If Alain bending o'er his crystal urn,

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

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"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, "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 Phoenix shows,

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And, watchful of the dawn, reverts her head "To see Aurora leave her watery bed.

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"In other part, the expansive vault above,

"And there too, even there, the god of love;

"With quiver armed he mounts, his torch displays

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"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, learn "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

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"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!

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Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode,

"Has passed the showery arch, henceforth resides "With saints and heroes, and from flowing tides

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Quaffs copious immortality and joy,

"With hallowed lips!-Oh! blest without alloy,
66 And now enriched with all that faith can claim,
"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.

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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;

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'Thy brows encircled with a radiant band,

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"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."

AN ODE ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN ROUSE

LIBRARIAN OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD,

ON A LOST VOLUME OF MY POEMS, WHICH HE DESIRED ME TO REPLACE, THAT HE MIGHT ADD THEM TO MY OTHER WORKS DEPOSITED IN THE LIBRARY.

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.

STROPHE,

My 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,
And stepped almost in air;

ANTISTROPHE.

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,

Cærulean sire;

Where rise the fountains, and the raptures ring
Of the Aonian choir,

Durable as yonder spheres,

And through the endless lapse of years
Secure to be admired?

STROPHE II.

Now what god, or demigod,

For Britain's ancient genius moved

(If our afflicted land

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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 Phoebean shafts

Piercing the unseemly birds,
Whose talons menace us,

Shall drive the harpy race from Helicon afar?

ANTISTROPHE.

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!

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Since now a splendid lot is also thine,
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.

EPODE.

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;
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,

Thanks to Rouse, if aught of praise

I merit, shall with candour weigh the claim.

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TRANSLATIONS OF THE ITALIAN POEMS.

SONNET.

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.

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