Part 11 (1/2)

Jove[65:1] loves water: give me wine, That my soul ere I resign May this cure of sorrow have.

There's no drinking in the grave! 10

III. _The Spring._

See, the Spring herself discloses, And the Graces gather roses; See how the becalmed seas Now their swelling waves appease; How the duck swims; how the crane 5 Comes from 's winter home again; See how t.i.tan's cheerful ray Chaseth the dark clouds away!

Now in their new robes of green Are the ploughman's labours seen; 10 Now the l.u.s.ty teeming earth Springs, each hour, with a new birth; Now the olive blooms; the vine Now cloth with plump pendants s.h.i.+ne, And with leaves and blossoms now 15 Freshly bourgeons every bough.

IV. _The Combat._

Now will I a lover be!

Love himself commanded me.

Full at first of stubborn pride, To submit, my soul denied. 20 He his quiver takes, and bow, Bids defiance: forth I go.

Armed with spear and s.h.i.+eld we meet: On he charges: I retreat,

Till, perceiving in the fight 25 He had wasted every flight, Into me, with fury hot, Like a dart himself he shot.

And my cold heart melts; my s.h.i.+eld Useless, no defence could yield; 30 For what boots an outward screen, When, alas, the fight's within?

V.

On this verdant lotus laid, Underneath the myrtle's shade, Let us drink our sorrows dead, Whilst Love plays the Ganymed.

Life like to[66:1] a wheel runs round: 5 And, ere long, we underground Ta'en by death asunder, must Moulder in forgotten dust.

Why then graves should we bedew, Why the ground with odours strew? 10 Better, whilst alive, prepare Flowers and unguents for our hair.

Come, my Fair,[66:2] and come away!

All our cares behind us lay, That these pleasures we may know, 15 Ere we come to those below.

E. CATALECTIS VET[ERUM] POET[ARUM].

A small well-gotten stock, and country seat I have, yet my content makes both seem great.

My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd, And from the sins of idleness secur'd.

Others may seek the camp, others the town, 5 And fool themselves with pleasure or renown; Let me, unminded in the common crowd, Live, master of the time that I'm allow'd!

SEVEN EPIGRAMS.[67:1]

[Plato.]

I. _Upon One named Aster._

The stars, my Star! thou view'st: heaven I would be, That I with thousand eyes might gaze on thee.