Not thus inoffensively preys
The canker-worm, indwelling foe! His voracity not thus allays
The sparrow, the finch, or the crow. The worm, more expensively fed,
The pride of the garden devours;
And birds peck the seed from the bed,
Still less to be spared than the flowers.
But she, with such delicate skill,
Her pillage so fits for her use,
That the chemist in vain with his still
Would labour the like to produce.
Then grudge not her temperate meals,
Nor a benefit blame as a theft ;
Since, stole she not all that she steals,
Neither honey nor wax would be left.
DENNER'S OLD WOMAN.
IN this mimic form of a matron in years,
How plainly the pencil of Denner appears!
The matron herself, in whose old age we see
Not a trace of decline, what a wonder is she!
No dimness of eye, and no cheek hanging low,
No wrinkle, or deep-furrowed frown on the brow!
Her forehead indeed is here circled around
With locks like the riband with which they are bound;
While glossy and smooth, and as soft as the skin
Of a delicate peach, is the down of her chin;
But nothing unpleasant, or sad, or severe,
Or that indicates life in its winter, is here.
Yet all is expressed, with fidelity due,
Nor a pimple or freckle concealed from the view.
Many, fond of new sights, or who cherish a taste
For the labours of art, to the spectacle haste;
The youths all agree, that could old age inspire
The passion of love, hers would kindle the fire,
And the matrons with pleasure confess that they see
Ridiculous nothing or hideous in thee.
The nymphs for themselves scarcely hope a decline,
O wonderful woman! as placid as thine.
Strange magic of art! which the youth can engage
To peruse, half-enamoured, the features of age;
And force from the virgin a sigh of despair,
That she, when as old, shall be equally fair!
How great is the glory that Denner has gained,
Since Apelles not more for his Venus obtained !
Thus far is well.
The cause of thy paternal pain!
Thy melancholy task fulfil!
It needs the last, last touches still.
Again his pencil's powers he tries,
For on his lips a smile he spies :
And still his cheek unfaded shows
The deepest damask of the rose.
Then, heedful to the finished whole,
With fondest eagerness he stole,
Till scarce himself distinctly knew
The cherub copied from the true.
Now, painter, cease! Thy task is
done.
Long lives this image of thy son;
Nor short-lived shall the glory prove,
Or of thy labour or thy love.
NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE SUFFERER.
THE lover, in melodious verses,
His singular distress rehearses,
Still closing with a rueful cry,
"Was ever such a wretch as I?"
Yes! thousands have endured before
All thy distress; some, haply more.
Unnumbered Corydons complain,
And Strephons, of the like disdain :
And if thy Chloe be of steel,
Too deaf to hear, too hard to feel;
Not her alone that censure fits,
Nor thou alone hast lost thy wits.
WITH two spurs, or one, and no great matter which,
Boots bought, or boots borrowed, a whip or a switch,
Five shillings or less for the hire of his beast,
Paid part into hand;-you must wait for the rest.
Thus equipt, Academicus climbs up his horse,
And out they both sally for better or worse;
His heart void of fear, and as light as a feather;
And in violent haste to go not knowing whither :
Through the fields and the towns (see !) he scampers along,
And is looked at and laughed at by old and by young.
Till at length overspent, and his sides smeared with blood,
Down tumbles his horse, man and all, in the mud.
In a waggon or chaise shall he finish his route?
Oh! scandalous fate! he must do it on foot.
Young gentlemen, hear !—I am older than you!
The advice that I give I have proved to be true:
Wherever your journey may be, never doubt it,
The faster you ride, you're the longer about it.
TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LATIN CLASSICS.
VIRGIL'S ENEID, BOOK VIII. LINE 18.
THUS Italy was moved ;-nor did the chief
Eneas in his mind less tumult feel.
On every side his anxious thought he turns,
Restless, unfixed, not knowing what to chuse.
And as a cistern that in brim of brass
Confines the crystal flood, if chance the sun
Smite on it, or the moon's resplendent orb,
The quivering light now flashes on the walls,
Now leaps uncertain to the vaulted roof:
Such were the wavering motions of his mind.
'Twas night-and weary Nature sunk to rest;
The birds, the bleating flocks, were heard no more.
At length, on the cold ground, beneath the damp
And dewy vault, fast by the river's brink,
The Father of this country sought repose.
When lo! among the spreading poplar boughs,
Forth from his pleasant stream, propitious rose
The god of Tiber: clear transparent gauze
Infolds his loins, his brows with reeds are crowned;
And these his gracious words to soothe his care:
Heaven-born, who bring'st our kindred home again
Rescued, and givest eternity to Troy,
"Long have Laurentum and the Latian plains
Expected thee; behold thy fixed abode.
"Fear not the threats of war, the storm is passed,
"The gods appeased. For proof that what thou hearest "Is no vain forgery or delusive dream,
"Beneath the grove that borders my green bank,
"A milk-white swine, with thirty milk-white young,
"Shall greet thy wondering eyes. Mark well the place; 30
"For 'tis thy place of rest, there end thy toils:
"There, twice ten years elapsed, fair Alba's walls
"Shall rise, fair Alba, by Ascanius' hand.
"Thus shall it be;-now listen, while I teach
"The means to accomplish these events at hand.
"The Arcadians here, a race from Pallas sprung,
Following Evander's standard and his fate,
High on these mountains, a well-chosen spot, "Have built a city, for their grandsire's sake "Named Pallanteum. These perpetual war
"Wage with the Latians joined in faithful league "And arms confederate, add them to your camp.
Myself between my winding banks will speed "Your well-oared barks to stem the opposing tide. Rise, goddess-born, arise; and with the first Declining stars, seek Juno in thy prayer, "And vanquish all her wrath with suppliant vows. "When conquest crowns thee, then remember Me.. "I am the Tiber, whose cærulean stream "Heaven favours; I with copious flood divide "These grassy banks, and cleave the fruitful meads; My mansion, this,—and lofty cities crown
66 My fountain head."- -He spoke, and sought the deep,
And plunged his form beneath the closing flood.
Æneas at the morning dawn awoke,
And, rising, with uplifted eye beheld
The orient sun, then dipped his palms, and scooped
The brimming stream, and thus addressed the skies:
Ye nymphs, Laurentian nymphs, who feed the source "Of many a stream, and thou, with thy blest flood, "O Tiber! hear, accept me, and afford,
"At length afford, a shelter from my woes.
"Where'er in secret cavern under ground
Thy waters sleep, where'er they spring to light, "Since thou hast pity for a wretch like me,
My offerings and my vows shall wait thee still :
"Great horned Father of Hesperian floods,
"Be gracious now and ratify thy word!
He said, and chose two galleys from his fleet,
Fits them with oars, and clothes the crew in arms.
When lo! astonishing and pleasing sight,
The milk-white dam, with her unspotted brood,
Lay stretched upon the bank, beneath the grove.
To thee, the pious prince, Juno, to thee
Devotes them all, all on thine altar bleed.
That livelong night old Tiber smoothed his flood,
And so restrained it that it seemed to stand
Motionless as a pool, or silent lake,
That not a billow might resist their oars.
With cheerful sound of exhortation soon
Their voyage they begin; the pitchy keel
Slides through the gentle deep; the quiet stream
Admires the unwonted burthen that it bears,
Well polished arms, and vessels painted gay.
Beneath the shade of various trees, between
The umbrageous branches of the spreading groves,
They cut their liquid way, nor day nor night
They slack their course, unwinding as they go
The long meanders of the peaceful tide.
The glowing sun was in meridian height,
When from afar they saw the humble walls
And the few scattered cottages, which now
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