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Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow

Of golden locks, or damask cheek; more rare
The heartfelt beauties of my foreign fair,
A mien majestic, with dark brows that show

The tranquil lustre of a lofty mind;

Words exquisite, of idioms more than one,
And song, whose fascinating power might bind,

And from her sphere draw down, the labouring moon;
With such fire-darting eyes, that should I fill
My ears with wax, she would enchant me still.

SONNET.

Ladv! it cannot be but that thine eyes

Must be my sun, such radiance they display,
And strike me even as Phcebus him whose way
Through horrid Libya's sandy desert lies.

Meantime, on that side steamy vapours rise
Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they,
New as to me they are, I cannot say,
But deem them, in the lover's language—sighs.

Some, though with pain, my bosom close conceals,
Which, if in part escaping thence, they tend
To soften thine, thy coldness soon congeals.

While others to my tearful eyes ascend,

Whence my sad nights in showers are ever drowned, Till my Aurora comes, her brow with roses bound.

SONNET.

Enamoured, artless, young, on foreign ground,
Uncertain whither from myself to fly,
To thee, dear Lady, with an humble sigh
Let me devote my heart, which I have found

By certain proofs, not few, intrepid, sound,
Good, and addicted to conceptions high:
When tempests shake the world, and fire the sky,
It rests in adamant self-wrapt around,

As safe from envy, and from outrage rude,

From hopes and fears that vulgar minds abuse,
As fond of genius and fixed fortitude,

Of the resounding lyre, and every muse.
Weak you will find it in one only part,
Now pierced by Love's immedicable dart,

COMPLIMENTARY POEMS TO MILTON.

FROM THE LATIN AND ITALIAN.

THE NEAPOLITAN, JOHN BAPTIST MANSO,

MARQUIS OF VILLA,

TO THE ENGLISHMAN, JOHN MILTON.

What features, form, mien, manners, with a mind
Oh how intelligent! and how refined!
Were but thy piety from fault as free,
Thou wouldest no Angle but an Angel be.

AN EPIGRAM,

ADDRESSED TO THE ENGLISHMAN, JOHN MILTON, A POET WORTHY OF
THREE LAURELS, THE GRECIAN, LATIN, AND ETRUSCAN,
BY JOHN SALSILLI, OF ROME.

Mei.es* and Mincio,t both, your urns depress!
Sebetus,t boast henceforth thy Tasso less!
But let the Thames o'erpeer all floods, since he
For Milton famed shall, single, match the three.

TO JOHN MILTON.

Greece, sound thy Homer's, Rome, thy Virgil's name,
But England's Milton equals both in fame.

Selvaggi.

AN ODE,

ADDRESSED TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS ENGLISHMAN, MR. JOHN MILTON, BY SIGNOR ANTONIO FRANCINI, GENTLEMAN, OF FLORENCE.

Exalt me, Clio, to the skies,

That I may form a starry crown,
Beyond what Helicon supplies
In laureate garlands of renown;
To nobler worth be brighter glory given,
And to a heavenly mind a recompense from heaven.

* Meles is a river of Ionia, in the neighbourhood of Smyrna, whence Homer is called Melesigenes.

+ The Mincio watered the city of Mantua, famous as the birthplace of Virgil. J Sebetus is now the Fiume delta. Maddalena; it runs through Naples.

Time's wasteful hunger cannot prey

On everlasting high desert, Nor can Oblivion steal away Its record graven on the heart; Lodge but an arrow, Virtue, on the bow That binds my lyre, and death shall be a vanquished foe.

In Ocean's blazing flood enshrined,

Whose vassal tide around her swells,
Albion, from other climes disjoined,
The prowess of the world excels;
She teems with heroes that to glory rise,
With more than human force in our astonished eyes.

To Virtue, driven from other lands,
Their bosoms yield a safe retreat;
Her law alone their deed commands;
Her smiles they feel divinely sweet.
Confirm my record, Milton, generous youth!
And by true virtue prove thy virtue's praise a truth.

Zeuxis, all energy and flame,

Set ardent forth in his career; Urged to his task by Helen's fame Resounding ever in his ear; To make his image to her beauty true, From the collected fair each sovereign charm he drew.

The bee, with subtlest skill endued,

Thus toils to earn her precious juice From all the flowery myriads strewed O'er meadow and parterre profuse; Confederate voices one sweet air compound, And various chords consent in one harmonious sound.

An artist of celestial aim,

Thy genius, caught by moral grace,
With ardent emulation's flame The steps of Virtue toiled to trace,
Observed in every land who brightest shone,
And, blending all their best, made perfect good thy own. From all in Florence born, or taught Our country's sweetest accent there,
Whose works, with learned labour wrought,
Immortal honours justly share,
Thou hast such treasure drawn of purest ore,
That not even Tuscan bards can boast a richer store. Babel confused, and with her towers

Unfinished spreading wide the plain,
Has served but to evince thy powers
With all her tongues confused in vain,
Since not alone thy England's purest phrase
But every polished realm thy various speech displays.
The secret things of heaven and earth
By Nature, too reserved, concealed
From other minds of highest worth,
To thee are copiously revealed;
Thou knowest them clearly, and thy views attain
The utmost bounds prescribed to moral truths' domain.

Let Time no more his wing display,

And boast his ruinous career,
For Virtue, rescued from his sway,
His injuries may cease to fear;
Since all events that claim remembrance find
A chronicle exact in thy capacious mind.

Give me, that I may praise thy song,

Thy lyre, by which alone I can, Which, placing thee the stars among, Already proves thee more than man; And Thames shall seem Permessus, while his stream, Graced with a swan like thee, shall be my favourite theme.

I who beside the Arno strain

To match thy merit with my lays, Learn, after many an effort vain, To admire thee rather than to praise, And that byimute astonishment alone, Not by the faltering tongue, thy worth may best be shown.

TRANSLATION OF DRYDEN'S POEM ON MILTON.

Tres tria, sed longe distantia, saecula vates

Ostentant tribus e gentibus eximios.
Graecia sublimem, cum majestate disertum

Roma tulit, felix Anglia utrique parem.
Partubus ex binis Natura exhausta, coacta est,

Tertius ut fieret, consociare duos.
July, 1780.

TRANSLATIONS FROM VINCENT BOURNE. ON THE PICTURE OF A SLEEPING CHILD.

Sweet babe, whose image here expressed
Does thy peaceful slumbers show;

Guilt or fear, to break thy rest,
Never did thy spirit know.

Soothing slumbers, soft repose, Such as mock the painter's skill,
Such as innocence bestows, Harmless infant, lull thee still!

THE THRACIAN.

Thracian parents, at his birth,
Mourn their babe with many a tear,

But with undissembled mirth
Place him breathless on his bier.

Greece and Rome with equal scorn,
"O the savages !" exclaim;

"Whether they rejoice or mourn,
"Well entitled to the name!"

But the cause of this concern

And this pleasure would they trace,

Even they might somewhat learn
From the savages of Thrace.

RECIPROCAL KINDNESS THE PRIMARY LAW OF NATURE.

Androci.es from his injured lord, in dread

Of instant death, to Libya's desert fled.

Tired with his toilsome flight, and parched with heat,

He spied, at length, a cavern's cool retreat;

But scarce had given to rest his weary frame,

When, hugest of his kind, a lion came:

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