FROM THE LATIN OF AUSONIUS.
GALLA, midst other moving things,
Remember I have often said,
That Time, though aged, has his wings,
And thou wouldst find how fast he fled.
Yet vainly, to persuade I strove;
In youth's short summer thou wast cold,
Although the girl that will not love,
However youthful-still is old.
But Time, though beauty he hath ta'en,
Will recollection leave behind,
And now thou wishest back again
The days in which thou wast so blind.
Oh! well I read that sadness, when
I see it settle on thy brow;
Thou wouldst that thou wert young as then,
Or that thou hadst been kind as now.
Though 'tis a vain, unreal fire,
Compared with that those hours inspired, Though 'tis not that I now desire
So much as that I once desired,
Grieve not; and if we speak of this,
Let us but bring each former scene,
To try to sweeten that which is
By thoughts of that which might have been.
FROM THE LATIN OF CLAUDIAN.
Now had they come where Ceres' palace blazed,
By the strong prowess of the Cyclops raised:
There, iron walls the admiring eye survey'd,
There, iron posts and locks of chalybs made.
Ne'er with such glowing toil, a mass so great
The forming anvil of Pyracmon beat;
Nor Steropes such mighty labour knew,
His lightning furnace as the bellows blew ;
Nor ever, when he snatch'd it from the flame,
Hiss'd the red metal in so vast a stream.
On brazen beams the roofs supported rise,
While amber pillars of transparent dyes
Tinge, as they prop the ivory-ceiled halls,
With rich reflected light their lofty walls.
There Proserpine, with sweetest songs the dome
Delighting, plied the labours of her loom;
But ah, in vain the various woof she wove,
Design'd a tribute of her filial love!
Here, in rich tapestry, the beauteous maid
The series of the elements display'd.
Lo! through old Chaos parent nature streams
Her light, and foster'd in her genial beams
To its own place each seedling atom flies;
And sudden, as the lighter forms arise,
The heavier bodies to the centre fall,
While powers unknown suspend the' illumined
Mild ether shines, the polar regions glow,
And with free wave the rising waters flow.
The stars she lights in gold, in purple pours
The sea, and lifts in various gems the shores.
Now the well imitated billows curl
Around, and in their dashing eddies hurl
(While murmurs seem to creep o'er all the sand)
The seaweeds high against the rocky strand.
Five zones she adds, and marks, with nice design
In red, the fervour of the flaming line;
And o'er its squalid limits as she runs
She paints them glowing in continual suns.
Then, the full populated zones she rears,
Where verdure,fann'd by Zephyr's breath,appears;
And next, the climes, where winter's dreary host
Break their vast thunders o'er the boundless frost,
Arrest the foaming billow as it rolls,
And with eternal mountains block the poles!
Last as she figured Dis, the infernal god,
The gloomy Manes, and their dread abode;
Sudden, as prescient of her fate, appears
Her cheek bedew'd with inauspicious tears!
Now, at the limits of the web, she gave
The glassy folds to ocean's winding wave.
THE RECEPTION OF PROSERPINE.
FROM THE LATIN OF CLAUDIAN.
ENAMOUR'D of the sighing maid
He press'd his steeds, and plunged into the shade.
Sudden light images around them rove,
As leaves come fluttering from the blasted grove;
Thick as the billows break, or sands arise;
Thick as the showers that fall from wintry skies.
Swift, to survey the beauties of the bride,
In crowds the shadows of all ages glide.
Attendants, chosen from the crowd, prepare
To roll beneath its shed the lofty car;
And bid the steeds, now loosen'd from the reins,
Graze the dark pasture of Cocytus' plains.
Some at the canopy their care divide,
Or hang with verdurous boughs the portals wide;
Or lift the richest tapestries of the loom
To grace with graphic forms the bridal room.
And, as such triumphs crown the lover's toils,
Softens his grimly face, relax'd in smiles.
Huge Phlegethon from waves of torrent flame
Arose, while down his features flash'd the stream.
A train came next, to soothe the mourning queen;
Meek were their looks, and modest was their mien:
From the fair gardens of Elysian day
They charm with cheerful talk her woes away;
And bind her scatter'd tresses; and conceal
Her mantling blushes in a golden veil.
Bursting in wild and animated notes,
Through the dread gloom unusual music floats:
Lo, the pale regions triumph at the sound,
And all the buried nations dance around!
The Manes, graced with wreaths, protract the
And fill'd with genial cheer, the shadows rest. Hell stills her groans, and rarefies her breath That charged the eternal night with blasts of death:
Minos suspends the terrors of his urn:
Echoes no scourge, no dying sorrows mourn!
The gloom no tortured ghosts with horror fill,
And writhed Ixion rests upon his wheel!
See Tantalus, the stream with rapture caught,
Allays the thirsty fever of his throat;
And Tityus lifts his monster limbs away
From the nine acres, where outstretch'd he lay;
While the fierce vulture feels her power repress'd
To scoop the living banquet of his breast,
And, where no renovated fibres rise,
To catch the bloody morsel vainly tries.
Convivial revels e'en the furies hold
(Their listening snakes relax each placid fold);
No more their flashing eyes in madness roll,
But sparkle with the spirit of the bowl!
From those fell lips, that pour'd the threats of woe,
The melodies of melting music flow!
And, while no sanguine torch betrays the gloom,
Lights of pure flame the canopies illume!
No baleful vapours from Avernus rise,
Where the fleet bird on easy pinion flies:
The floods, that fence his sable jaws around,
No more, to fright the ear with horror, sound.
Where roar'd rough Acheron, see a milky wave
Sudden his banks in gentle murmurs lave;
And flaunting o'er his purpling lake of wine,
See verdant ivy round Cocytus twine!
Each faltering thread of life the Fates renew;
No sacred chorus mourns the broken clue!
With sighs no parents, o'er the breathing urn,
Pay the last honours to the shade they mourn:
No black procession breaks the city's ease;
No battles rage; no tempests sweep the seas.
With reeds old Charon veil'd his tresses frore,
Singing in concert with each dashing oar.
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