Part 2 (1/2)

QUITTING AGAIN

The hero of Affairs of love By far too numerous to be mentioned, And scarred as I'm, It seemeth time That I were mustered out and pensioned.

So on this wall My lute and all I hang, and dedicate to Venus; And I implore But one thing more Ere all is at an end between us.

O G.o.ddess fair Who reignest where The weather's seldom bleak and snowy, This boon I urge: In anger scourge My old cantankerous sweetheart, Chloe!

SAILOR AND SHADE

SAILOR

You, who have compa.s.sed land and sea, Now all unburied lie; All vain your store of human lore, For you were doomed to die.

The sire of Pelops likewise fell,-- Jove's honored mortal guest; So king and sage of every age At last lie down to rest.

Plutonian shades enfold the ghost Of that majestic one Who taught as truth that he, forsooth, Had once been Pentheus' son; Believe who may, he's pa.s.sed away, And what he did is done.

A last night comes alike to all; One path we all must tread, Through sore disease or stormy seas Or fields with corpses red.

Whate'er our deeds, that pathway leads To regions of the dead.

SHADE

The fickle twin Illyrian gales Overwhelmed me on the wave; But you that live, I pray you give My bleaching bones a grave!

Oh, then when cruel tempests rage You all unharmed shall be; Jove's mighty hand shall guard by land And Neptune's on the sea.

Perchance you fear to do what may Bring evil to your race?

Oh, rather fear that like me here You'll lack a burial place.

So, though you be in proper haste, Bide long enough, I pray, To give me, friend, what boon shall send My soul upon its way!

LET US HAVE PEACE

In maudlin spite let Thracians fight Above their bowls of liquor; But such as we, when on a spree, Should never brawl and bicker!

These angry words and clas.h.i.+ng swords Are quite _de trop_, I'm thinking; Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise, And drown your wrath in drinking.

Aha, 't is fine,--this mellow wine With which our host would dope us!

Now let us hear what pretty dear Entangles him of Opus.

I see you blush,--nay, comrades, hus.h.!.+

Come, friend, though they despise you, Tell me the name of that fair dame,-- Perchance I may advise you.

O wretched youth! and is it truth You love that fickle lady?