may not unseemly with its stillness suit;
as, musing slow, I hail

thy genial, loved return!

for when thy folding-star arising shows
his paly circlet, at his warning lamp
the fragrant Hours, and elves

who slept in buds the day,

and many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge,

and sheds the fresh'ning dew, and, lovelier still,

the pensive pleasures sweet,

prepare thy shadowy car.

Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene;
or find some ruin, 'midst its dreary dells,
whose walls more awful nod

by thy religious gleams.

Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain
prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut
that from the mountain's side
views wilds, and swelling floods,

and hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires,
and hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all
thy dewy fingers draw

the gradual dusky veil.

While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont,
and bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest eve!
while Summer loves to sport

beneath thy lingering light;

while sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,

affrights thy shrinking train,

and rudely rends thy robes;

so long regardful of thy quiet rule,

shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace,
thy gentlest influence own,

and love thy favourite name!

W. COLLINS

519 TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW

HY do ye weep, sweet Babes? can tears

WHY

speak grief in you,

who were but born

just as the modest morn

teemed her refreshing dew?

Alas, you have not known that shower

that mars a flower;

nor felt the unkind

breath of a blasting wind;
nor are ye worn with years;

or warpt, as we,

who think it strange to see

such pretty flowers, like to orphans young,
to speak by tears, before ye have a tongue.
Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known
the reason why

ye droop and weep;

is it for want of sleep?

or childish lullaby?

or that ye have not seen as yet
the violet?

Or brought a kiss

from that sweet-heart, to this?
No, no, this sorrow shown

by your tears shed

would have this lecture read,

that things of greatest, so of meanest worth, conceived with grief are and with tears brought forth.

R. HERRICK

520

GET

CORINNA'S GOING A MAYING

ET up, get up for shame, the blooming morn upon her wings presents the god unshorn.

See how Aurora throws her fair

fresh-quilted colours through the air:
get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see

the dew-bespangling herb and tree.

Each flower has wept, and bowed towards the East,

above an hour since: yet you not drest,

nay, not so much as out of bed?

when all the birds have matins said,
and sung their thankful hymns: 'tis sin;

nay, profanation to keep in,

when as a thousand Virgins on this day
spring sooner then the lark to fetch in May."

Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen
to come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green;

521

and sweet as Flora. Take no care
for jewels for your gown or hair:
fear not the leaves will strew

gems in abundance upon you:

besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
against you come, some orient pearls unwept :
come and receive them while the light

hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
and Titan on the Eastern hill

retires himself, or else stands still

till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying:
few beads are best, when once we go a Maying.

Come let us go, while we are in our prime;
and take the harmless folly of the time.

We shall grow old apace, and die
before we know our liberty.

Our life is short; and our days run
as fast away as does the sun:
and as a vapour, or a drop of rain
once lost, can ne'er be found again:
so when or you or I are made
a fable, song or fleeting shade;

all love, all liking, all delight

lies drowned with us in endless night:

Then while time serves, and we are but decaying;
Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.

HERMOTIMUS

R. HERRICK

VAINLY were the words of parting spoken;

VAINLY

ever more must Charon turn from me.

Still my thread of life remains unbroken,
and unbroken it must ever be;

only they may rest

whom the Fates' behest

from their mortal mansion setteth free.

I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten—
seen him wave afar his serpent wand;
but to me the Herald would not listen-
when the dead swept by at his command,
not with that pale crew

durst I venture too

ever shut for me the quiet land.

272 Passages for Translation into Latin Lyric Verse

Day and night before the dreary portal
phantom-shapes, the guards of Hades, lie;
none of heavenly kind nor yet of mortal,
may unchallenged pass the warders by.
None that path may go,

if he cannot show
his last passport to eternity.

Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest-
fatal, O Apollo, was thy love!

Pythian! Archer! brightest God and bravest,
hear, O hear me from thy throne above!
Let me not, I pray,

thus be cast away:

Plead for me thy slave-O plead to Jove! I have heard thee with the Muses singingheard that full melodious voice of thine, silver-clear throughout the ether ringing— seen thy locks in golden clusters shine; and thine eye, so bright

with its innate light,

hath ere now been bent so low as mine.

Hast thou lost the wish-the will-to cherish
those who trusted in thy godlike power?
Hyacinthus did not wholly perish!

still he lives, the firstling of thy bower;
still he feels thy rays,

fondly meets thy gaze,

though but now the spirit of a flower.

W. E. AYTOUN

PASSAGES FOR TRANSLATION

INTO LATIN COMIC IAMBICS

I

SCENE FROM TWELFTH NIGHT

SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK-SEBASTIAN-SIR TOBY BELCH

Sir And.

Seb.

-CLOWN

Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you. [striking Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: are

all the people mad?

Sir To.

Clo.

[draws, beating Sir A.

Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house.
This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be

in some of your coats for two-pence.
Sir To. Come on, sir; hold!

Sir And.

[holding Seb.

Nay, let him alone; I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.

Seb.

Sir To.

Let go thy hand.

Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well flesh'd; come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. Sir To. What, what! Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [draws

W. SHAKESPEARE

2

SCENE FROM MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR

FALSTAFF-BARDOLPH

Fal.

Bardolph, I say!

Bard. Here, sir.

Fal.

Go, fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't.

Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of

F. S. II.

18