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My father! who, when I had open'd once
The stores of Roman rhetorick, and learn'd
The full toned language of the eloquent Greeks,
Whose lofty music graced the lips of Jove,
Thyself didst counsel me to add the flowers
That Gallia boasts, those too, with which the
Italian his degenerate speech adorns,

[smooth
That witnesses his mixture with the Goth;
And Palestine's prophetic songs divine.
To sum the whole, whate'er the heaven contains,
The earth beneath it, and the air between,
The rivers and the restless deep, may all
Prove intellectual gain to me, my wish
Concurring with thy will; science herself,
All cloud removed, inclines her beauteous head,
And offers me the lip, if, dull of heart,
I shrink not, and decline her gracious boon.

Go now, and gather dross, ye sordid minds That covet it; what could

my

father more? What more could Jove himself, unless he gave His own abode, the heaven, in which he reigns ? More eligible gifts than these were not Apollo's to his son, had they been safe As they were insecure, who made the boy The world's vice-luminary, bade him rule The radiant chariot of the day, and bind To his

young brows his own all-dazzling wreath. I therefore, although last and least, my place Among the learned in the laurel grove Will hold, and where the conqueror's ivy twines,

Henceforth exempt from the unletter'd throng
Profane, nor even to be seen by such.
Away then, sleepless care, complaint, away,
And envy, with thy "jealous leer malign!"
Nor let the monster calumny shoot forth
Her venom'd tongue at me.

Detested foes !
Ye all are impotent against my peace,
For I am privileged, and bear my breast
Safe, and too high, for your viperean wound.

But thou ! my father, since to render thanks
Equivalent, and to requite by deeds
Thy liberality, exceeds my power,
Suffice it, that I thus record thy gifts,
And bear them treasured in a grateful mind !
Ye, too, the favourite pastime of my youth,
My voluntary numbers, if ye dare
To hope longevity, and to survive
Your master's funeral, not soon absorb'd
In the oblivious Lethæan gulf,
Shall to futurity perhaps convey
This theme, and by these praises of my sire
Improve the fathers of a distant age!

TO SALSILLUS, A ROMAN POET, MUCH

INDISPOSED.

The original is written in a measure called Scazon, which signifies limping, and the measure is so denominated, because, though in other respects Iambic, it terminates with a Spondee, and has, consequently, a more tardy movement.

The reader will immediately see that this property of the Latin verse cannot be imitated in English.

My halting muse, that dragg'st by choice along
Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song,
And likest that pace, expressive of thy cares,
Not less than Diopeia's sprightlier airs,
When in the dance she beats with measured tread
Heaven's floor, in front of Juno's golden bed;
Salute Salsillus, who to verse divine
Prefers, with partial love, such lays as mine.
Thus writes that Milton, then, who, wafted o'er
From his own nest on Albion's stormy shore,
Where Eurus, fiercest of the Æolian band,
Sweeps with ungovern'd rage the blasted land,
Of late to more serene Ausonia came
To view her cities of illustrious name,
To prove, himself a witness of the truth,
How wise her elders, and how learn'd her youth.

Ye

Much good, Salsillus ! and a body free
From all disease, that Milton asks for thee,
Who now endurest the languor and the pains
That bile inflicts, diffused through all thy veins;
Relentless malady! not moved to spare
By thy sweet Roman voice and Lesbian air !

Health, Hebe's sister, sent us from the skies,
And thou, Apollo, whom all sickness flies,
Pythius, or Pæan, or what name divine
Soe'er thou choose, haste, heal a priest of thine !
groves of Faunus, and

ye

hills that melt With vinous dews, where meek Evander dwelt ! If aught salubrious in your confines grow, Strive which shall soonest heal your poet's woe, That, render'd to the muse he loves, again He may

enchant the meadows with his strain. Numa, reclined in everlasting ease Amid the shade of dark embowering trees, Viewing with eyes of unabated fire His loved Ægeria, shall that strain admire : So soothed, the tumid Tiber shall revere The tombs of kings, nor desolate the year, Shall curb his waters with a friendly rein, And guide them harmless, till they meet the main.

TO GIOVANNI BATTISTA MANSO,

MARQUIS OF VILLA.

MILTON'S ACCOUNT OF MANSO.

Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, is an Italian nobleman of the highest estimation among his countrymen, for genius, literature, and military accomplishments. To him Torquato Tasso addressed his Dialogues on Friendship, for he was much the friend of Tasso, who has also celebrated him

among the other princes of his country, in his poem entitled, Gerusalemme Conquistata, book xx.

Fra cavalier magnanimi, e cortesi,

Risplende il Manso. During the Author's stay at Naples he received at the hands of the Marquis a thousand kind offices and civilities, and, desirous not to appear ungrateful, sent him this poem a short time before his departure from that city.

These verses also to thy praise, the Nine,
O Manso! happy in that theme, design,
For, Gallus and Mæcenas gone, they see
None such besides, or whom they love as thee;
And if my verse may give the meed of fame,
Thine too shall prove an everlasting name.
Already such, it shines in Tasso's

page (For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age, And, next, the muse consign'd (not unaware How high the charge) Marino to thy care,

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