Qualis fortibus est sopor,
Compostos reqvie qvos prece patria et
Votis proseqvitur bonis?
Ver udum gelidis sicubi roribus
Heroum redeuns sacros
Ornabit tumulos, floribus induet
Primis qvale fragrantius
Nusqvam Musa vagans adtigerit solum.
Illos, funereum decus,
Divina celebrat pulsa manu chelys ;
Decantata sonat naenia vocibus:
Illic pullus adest Honor
Exstructum venerans advena caespitem;
Libertasqve piis humum
Sacrabit lacrumis, flebilis incola.
Epitaphium Comitissae Pembrochianae.
Hic sub marmoreo iacet feretro
Qvae cunctis celebratur una Musis,
Pembrochi genetrix, soror Philippi.
Ah Mors, non prius alteram necabis
Cultam æqve nitidamqve amabilemqve,
Aetas qvam tibi torserit sagittam.
Know'st thou the land, where hangs the citron-flower,
Where gleams the golden orange in the bower,
Where gentle zephyrs in the blue sky play,
And myrtles creep beneath the towering bay?
Know'st thou indeed?
Would I with thee, my best-beloved, speed.
Know'st thou the house, that rests on columns tall, Its gay saloon, its glitt'ring banquet-hall,
Where marble statues stand and gaze on me :— What have they done, thou hapless child, to thee? Know'st thou indeed?
Would I with thee, my own kind guardian, speed.
Know'st thou the mount, and its cloud-crested steep,
Where poring mules the misty pathway keep;
In caves the dragon hides her ancient brood;
Down leaps the rock, and over it the flood?
Know'st thou indeed?
Our journey tends; my father, let us speed.
An nota tellus est tibi, qva citri
Florent, et atras aurea per comas
Dant mala fulgorem, polumqve
Caeruleum Zephyrus serenat,
Myrtusqve lauri brachia suspicit?
An nota tellus haec tibi? Qvid procul
Moramur? Illuc itur: illuc
Tecum aveo, mea vita, tolli.
Aedesne notae sunt tibi, porticus
Altae columnis, atria fulgida,
Qva stantqve defixae benignoqve
Intuitu statuae loqvuntur:
Heu tristis infans, qvid tibi contigit?
Istaene notae sunt tibi? Qvid diu
Moramur? Illuc itur: illuc
Tecum aveo tua cura tolli.
Notumne montis nubiferum caput,
Mulo petitum per nebulas iter,
Qva sub cavernosis latebris
Progenies habitat draconum,
Fractisqve torrens praecipitat iugis?
Notusne mons est hic tibi? Sic adhuc
Moramur? Illuc imus: illuc
Qvid prohibet, pater alme, tolli?
My thoughts are like a potter's wheel;
I know not where I am, or what I do.
A witch, by fear not force, like Hannibal,
Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists:
So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench,
Are from their hives and houses driven away.
They call'd us, from our fierceness, English dogs;
Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.
Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight,
Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead :
Sheep run not half so timorous from the wolf,
Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.
There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
They softly lie and sweetly sleep
Low in the ground.
The storm that wrecks the winter sky
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh
That shuts the rose.
Mens mea, ceu figuli currens rota, volvitur orbe;
Nescio nec qvid agam, nec qveis regionibus errem.
Femina saga metu, non vi, velut Hannibal, arma
Nostra retorqvet agens, victriciaqve agmina ducit.
Qvalis apes vapor admotus qvalisve columbas
Teter odor turrim aut alvearia propulit extra.
Olli nonne canes nos iam dixere Britannos
Propter atrocem animum? Patulo exululantibus ore
Nunc catulis similes discurrimus aeqvore toto.
Hoc agite, O socii: aut aciem instaurate refractam,
Aut signis picta ora leonum exscindite nostris:
Exuite ingenium patriamqve; locoqve leonum
Inbelles ovium in vexilla retexite formas.
Non ita grex ovium modo visum fugit anhelans
Valle lupum, non sic eqvus aut bovis ungula pardum,
Ut Gallo toties victo vos terga dedistis.
Alma flentibus est qvies;
Fessos hospitium manet;
Suaviter recubant, leves
Hauriuntqve sopores.
Brumae compositos humo
Turbo non magis excitat
Qvam suspiria qvae rosam
Verna vespere claudunt.
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