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"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,
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.
Mv twofold book! single in show,
But double in contents,
Which, in his early youth,
Or British wilds he roamed,
By turns the Daunian lute, IO
And stepped almost in air;
Say, little book, what furtive hand
Of the Aonian choir, 20
Now what god, or demigod,
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,
From all thy kindred books,
That thou mayest yet escape
Since Rouse desires thee, and complains
That though by promise his,
Given to his care,
Dearer to him
Since now a splendid lot is also thine, 70
Ye then, my works, no longer vain
TRANSLATIONS OF THE ITALIAN POEMS.
Fair Lady! whose harmonious name the Rhine,
Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare,
As on a hill-top rude, when closing day Imbrowns the scene, some pastoral maiden fair
That scarcely can its tender bud display;
So on my tongue these accents, new and rare,
Thy praise in verse to British ears unknown,
That what he wills he never wills in vain.
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."
TO CHARLES DIODATA.
Charles—and I say it wondering—thou must know
H H s