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FIELD.

THE POPLAR FIELD.

THE poplars are felled, farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.

Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a view
Of my favourite field and the bank where they grew
And now in the grass behold they are laid,

And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.

The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene, where his melody charm'd me before,
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,

With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

'Tis a sight to engage me if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.*

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.

POPULEÆ cecidit gratissima copio silvæ,
Conticuêre, susurri omnisque evanuit umbra.
Nullæ jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ,
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago.

Hei mihi! bis senos dum luctu torqueor annos,
His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessu,

Cum sero rediens, stratasque in gramine cernens,
Insedi arboribus, sub quels errare solebam.

*Mr. Cowper afterwards altered this last stanza in the foi lowing manner :

The change both my heart and my faney employs,
I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys:
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.

Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permissa bipenni;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit.

Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse,
Et prius huic parilis quam creverit altera siiva
Flebor, et, exsequiis parvis donatus, habebo
Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum.
Tam subito periisse videns tam digna manere,
Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata-
Sit licet ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
Est homini brevior citiusque obitura voluptas.

VOTUM.

O MATUTINI rores, auræque salubres,
O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ,
Graminei colles, et amœnæ in vallibus umbræ !
Fata modo dederint quas olim in rure paterno
Delicias, procul arte, procul formidine novi.

Quam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper avebat,
Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam,
Tum demum, exactis non infeliciter annis,
Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cæspite condi!

CICINDELA.

BY VINCENT BOURNE.

SUB sepe exiguum est, nec raro in margine ripæ,
Reptile, quod lucet nocte, dieque iatet.
Vermis habet speciem, sed habet de lumine nomen;
At prisca a famâ non liquet, unde micet.
Plerique a caudâ credunt procedere lumen;
Nec desunt, credunt qui rutilare caput.
Nam superas stellas quæ nox accendit, et illi
Parcam eadem lucem dat, moduloque parem.
Forsitan hoc prudens voluit Natura caveri,
Ne pede quis duro reptile contereret :

Exiguam, in tenebris ne gressum offenderet ullus,
Prætendi voluit forsitan illa facem.

Sive usum hunc Natura parens, seu maluit illum, Haud frustra accensa est lux, radiique dati. Ponite vos fastus, humiles nec spernite, magni ; Quando habet et minimum reptile, quod niteat

I. THE GLOW-WORM.

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING.

BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray;
That shews by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.

Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.

But this is sure-the hand of night,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportioned to his size.

Perhaps indulgent Nature meant,
By such a lamp bestow'd,
To bid the traveller, as he went,
Be careful where he trod;

Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,
To shew a stumbling-stone by night,
And save him from a fall.

Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain,

'Tis power Almighty bids him shine,
Nor bids him shine in vain.

Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem,

And boasts its splendour too.

CORNICULA.

BY VINCENT BOURNE.

NIGRAS inter aves avis est, quæ plurima turres, Antiquas ædes, celsaque fana colit.

Nil tam sublime est, quod non audace volatu,
Aĕriis spernens, inferiora, petit.

Quo nemo ascendat, cui non vertigo cerebrum
Corripiat, certe hunc seligit illa locum.
Quo vix a terrâ tu suspicis absque tremore,
Illa metûs expers incolumisque sedet.
Lamina delubri supra fastigia, ventus
Quâ cœli spiret de regione, docet ;
Hanc ea præ reliquis mavult, secura pericli,
Nec curat, nedum cogitat, unde cadat.
Res inde humanas, sed summa per otia, spectat,
Et nihil ad sese, quas videt, esse videt.
Concursus spectat, plateâque negotia in omni,
Omnia pro nugis at sapienter habet.
Clamores, quas infra audit, si forsitan audit,
Pro rebus nihili negligit, et crocitat.
Ille tibi invideat, felix Cornicula, pennas,
Qui sic humanis rebus abesse velit.

II. THE JACKDAW.

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING

THERE is a bird, who, by his soat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow

A great frequenter of the church,
Where bishop-like he finds a perch.
And dormitory too.

Above the steeple shines a plate,
That turns and turns to indicate

From what point blows the weather:
Look up your brains begin to swim,
'Tis in the clouds-that pleases him;
He chooses it the rather,

Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree-show,
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his ease.

You think, no doubt, he sits and muse
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.

He sees, that this great roundabout,
The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law,

Its customs, and its businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,

And says what says he?-Caw.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men;
And, sick of having seen 'em,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,
And such a head between 'em.

AD GRILLUM.

Anacreonticum.

BY VINCENT BOURNE.

O qui meæ culina
Argutulus choraules,
Et hospes es canorus,
Quacunque commoreris,
Felicitatis omen;
Jucundiore cantu
Siquando me salutes,
Et ipse te rependain,
Et ipse, quâ valebo,
Remunerabo inusá.

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