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XVI.

O QUÆ tendis iter plagas ad Austri Hirundo, super aureum residens Tectum, quæ refero tibi volanti Nostris deliciis refer puellæ. Cui tu-nam pariter Notique et Austri Nôsti temperiem-tenebricosum Hunc dicas, stabilem fide, benignum, Illum flammiferum, trucem, infidelem. Quodsi radere tecum iter liceret, Lapsus per patulam illius fenestram Ultro carmina mille pipilarem, Æternum liquidos canens amores. Si nunc induerem alitem figuram Ut me sub gremium foveret illa Exceptum, niveas vibrante sursum Cunas pectore, donec interirem ! Cur desiderio indui recusat Pectus, qualis ubi novos amictus, Quamvis sylva comis virescat omnis, De tot fraxinus una demoratur ? Pullos jam volucres refer peregre Aufugisse tuos; mihique dudum Liber qui modo luderem per Austrum, Structum sub Boreâ latere nidum.

O tell her brief is life, but love is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the north,
And brief the moon of beauty in the south.

O swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her and pipe and woo her and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.

TENNYSON, The Princess.

Dic illi breve tempus esse vitæ,
At durare diu doceto amorem;
Hic æstate brevem nitere solem,
Illic nocte brevem micare lunam.
O quæ deseris aureas hirundo
Sylvas, dulcisono ambitu locuta,
Nostras argue nuptias puellæ,
Ipsum me cito nuntians sequentem.

XVII.

STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face
That makes simplicity a grace ;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free;
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art-
They strike mine eye, but not my heart.

BEN JONSON.

XVII.

QUORSUM munditiis studere semper Convivæ similem, comasque odore Semper pulvereo, linique nardo? Quamvis principia artium latescunt, Tamen, Cynthia, nonnihil verendum est, Sincerum ut niteas, probeque fragres.

Mallem te faciem referre, qualis
Cultum simpliciorem honestet ipsa :
Mallem te proprios dedisse crines
Passos sic temere, stolamque laxam.
Hæc mî valdius Arte blandiuntur:
Quæ, si lumina tentat illecebris,
At non intima tangit usque corda.

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