TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING SONNET, BY COWPER.

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 fixt solitude,

Of the resounding lyre and every muse.
Weak will find it in one only part,
you

Now pierced by Love's immedicable dart.

ON HIS BEING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE

YEARS.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,

And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,

It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,

As ever in my great Task-Master's eye.

TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.

LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green,
And with those few art eminently seen,
That labour up the hill of heavenly truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure,
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin, wise, and pure.

TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY.

DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President
Of England's Council, and her Treasury,
Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,

Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,

Killed with report that old man eloquent.
Though later born than to have known the days
Wherein your father flourished, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
So well your words his noble virtues praise,
That all both judge you to relate them true,
And to possess them, honoured Margaret.

ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMPSON.

WHEN Faith and Love, which parted from thee never,
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load

Of death, called life; which us from life doth sever.
Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour
Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod;
But as Faith pointed with her golden rod,
Followed thee up to joy, and bliss, for ever.
Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best
Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams,
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest,
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes
Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest
And drink thy fill of pure, immortal streams.

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

WHEN I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world, and wide;
And that one talent, which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask: But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

DONNA leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,
Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco

Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcanente mostra si di fuora
De sui atti soavi giamai parco,

E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco,
La onde l'alta tua virtù s'infiora.

Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti

Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi
L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
Grazia sola di sù gli vaglia, inanti
Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING SONNET BY LANGHORNE.

O LADY fair, whose honoured name is borne

By that soft vale, where Rhine so loves to stray,
And sees the tall arch crown his watery way;
Sure happy he, though much the Muses scorn,
Too dull to die beneath thy beauty's ray,
Who never felt that spirit's charmed sway,
Which gentle smiles and gentle deeds adorn,
Though in those smiles are all Love's arrows worn,
Each radiant virtue tho' those deeds display!
Sure happy he, who that sweet voice should hear,
Mould the soft speech, or swell the tuneful strain,
And, conscious that his humble vows were vain,
Shut fond attention from his closed ear;

Who, piteous of himself, should timely part,
Ere love had held long empire in his heart!

QUAL in colle aspro, al imbrunira di sera
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella

Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera,
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,

Cosi Amor meco insù la lingua nella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso,

E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno.
Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso
Seppi ch'Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh! foss 'il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno,
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING SONNET BY LANGHORNE.

As o'er yon wild hill, when the browner light
Of evening falls, the village maiden hies

To foster some fair plant with kind supplies;
Some stranger plant, that yet in tender plight
But feebly buds, ere spring has opened quite
The soft affections of serener skies:

So I, with such like gentle thought devise

This stranger tongue to cultivate with care,
All for the sake of lovely lady fair,
And tune my lays in language little tried

By such as wont to Tamis' banks repair,
Tamis forsook for Arno's flowery side,—
So wrought Love's will that ever ruleth wide!