Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit,
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color,
Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.

His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham,
Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;

Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius, hujus Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.

THE POPLAR FIELD.

THE poplars are fell'd, farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.

Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew;
And now in the grass behold they are laid,

And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.

The blackbird has fled to another retreat,

Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charm'd me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,

With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

'Tis a sight to engage me, if any thing can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.*

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.

POPULEÆ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ,
Conticuêre susurri, omnisque evanuit umbra.
Nullæ jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ,
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum. ludit imago.

Hei mihi! bis senos dum luctu torqueor annos, His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessu, Cum serò rediens, stratasque in gramine cernens, Insedi arboribus, sub queîs errare solebam,

Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permissa bipenni;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit.

* Cowper afterwards altered this last stanza in the following manner:

The change both my heart and my fancy employs,
I reflect on the frailty of man, and his joys;
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.

Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse,
Et priùs huic parilis, quàm creverit altera silva
Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, habebo
Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum.
Tam subitò periisse videns tam digna manere,
Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata-
Sit licèt ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
Est homini brevior citiùsque obitura voluptas.

VOTUM.

O MATUTINI rores, auræque salubres,
O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ,
Graminei colles, et amœnæ in vallibus umbræ !
Fata modò dederint quas olim in rure paterno
Delicias, procul arte, procul formidine novi,
Quam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper
avebat,

Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam
Tum demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis,

Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi!

TRANSLATION OF PRIOR'S CHLOE AND
EUPHELIA.

MERCATOR, vigiles oculos ut fallere possit,
Nomine sub ficto trans mare mittit opes;
Lenè sonat liquidumque meis Euphelia chordis,
Sed solam exoptant te, mea vota, Chlöe.

Ad speculum ornabat nitidos Euphelia crines, Cum dixit, mea lux, heus, cane, sume lyram. Namque lyram juxtà positam cum carmine vidit, Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram.

Fila lyræ vocemque paro, suspiria surgunt,

Et miscent numeris murmura mæsta meis, Dumque tuæ memoro laudes, Euphelia, formæ, Tota anima intereà pendet ab ore Chlöes.

Subrubet illa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem, Me torquet mea mens conscia, psallo, tremo; Atque Cupidineâ dixit Dea cincta coronâ,

Heu! fallendi artem quam didicere parum.

VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD.

SPOKEN AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION NEXT

AFTER HIS DECEASE.

OUR good old friend is gone; gone to his rest,
Whose social converse was itself a feast.
O ye of riper years, who recollect

you

How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect,
Both in the firmness of his better day,
While yet he ruled with a father's sway,
And when, impair'd by time, and glad to rest,
Yet still with looks in mild complacence drest,
He took his annual seat, and mingled here
His sprightly vein with yours-now drop a tear!

In morals blameless, as in manners meek,
He knew no wish that he might blush to speak,
But, happy in whatever state below,

And richer than the rich in being so,

Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed
At length from one* as made him rich indeed.
Hence then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here!
Go! garnish merit in a higher sphere,

The brows of those, whose more exalted lot
He could congratulate, but envied not!
Light lie the turf, good senior, on thy breast;
And tranquil, as thy mind was, be thy rest.
Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame,
And not a stone now chronicles thy name!

ABIIT senex.

Periit senex amabilis,

Quo non fuit jucundior.

Lugete vos, ætas quibus maturior
Senem colendum præstitit;

Seu quando, viribus valentioribus
Firmoque fretus pectore,

Florentiori vos juventute excolens
Curâ fovebat patriâ ;

Seu quando, fractus, jamque donatus rude,
Vultu sed usque blandulo,

Miscere gaudebat suas facetias

His annuis leporibus.

* He was usher and under-master of Westminster near fifty years, and retired from his occupation when he was near seventy, with a handsome pension from the king.