Descende, Vesper roscide, saltubus
Silvisqve nostris et sitientibus
Optatus arvis; te canoro
Rite pii revocamus ore,
Te fistularum cantubus. En redis:
En tota vallis purpureo rubet
Ardore, dum solis supini
Pendet adhuc fugiturus axis
In monte summo. Iamque silentio
Tellus profundo dormit et humidus
Aether, nisi extrema fatiscens
Voce nemus volucris soporet.
Qvod cultu sine tellus,
Qvod stella sine vesper,
Qvod vino sine crater,
Qvod silva sine turtur,
Qvod visu sine vultus,
Qvod rhythmo sine carmen,
Hoc mens est sine amoris
Luctu laetitiaqve.
My Boat is on the Shore.
My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But before I go, Tom Moore,
Here's a double health to thee!
Here's a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And, whatever sky 's above me,
Here's a heart for every fate.
Though the ocean roar around me,
Yet it still shall bear me on;
Though a desert should surround me,
It hath springs that may be won.
Were't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirits fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.
With that water, as this wine,
The libation I would pour
Should be-Peace with thine and mine,
And a health to thee, Tom Moore !
Die Lieb' ist der Säckel des Fortunat:
Je mehr sie gibt, desto mehr sie hat.
In mare iam properat funes mea solvere puppis:
Iam levis in primo litore cymba natat.
Sed moror ut binis cyathis tibi rite propinem,
Atqve iterum, Bene te, candide Cotta, loqvar.
Cum gemitu hos inter calices memorantur amici;
Cum risu, si qvis nos inimicus agit:
Et qvascumqve plagas Iove sub qvocumqve videbo,
Qvodlubet ad fatum mente paratus eo.
Nos circum oceanus vesano mugiat aestu,
Securi tumidas pergimus ire vias :
Vel cingant deserta licet sub sole propinqvo,
At gelidos latices arida prodet humus.
Unica si staret mihi gutta in fonte potito,
Dum gravis opprimeret langvida membra sitis, Spiritus ante tamen fractos qvam linqveret artus, Hausturo tremeret nomen in ore tuum.
Dumqve undas biberem, ceu nunc spumantia vina,
Hac ego tentarem fata movere prece :
Qvi tibi sunt cari, qvi sunt mihi, pace fruantur;
Et Bene sit nullo non tibi, Cotta, die.
Vin' Fortunati veniat tibi saccus? Amato:
Qvo plus largitur, plus habet unus Amor.
The soote season, that bud and blome forth brings, With grene hath clad the hill and eke the vale; The nightingale with fethers new she sings;
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale:
Somer is come, for every spray now springs;
The hart hath hong his old hed on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coate he flings;
The fishes flete with new repaired scale;
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swalow pursueth the flies smale;
The busy bee her hony now she mings;
Winter is worne, that was the flowers bale:
And thus I se among these pleasant things
Eche care decays; and yet my sorow springs.
Dark are thy words and severe,
Thou dweller in the stone;
But trembling and fear
To her are unknown,
Who hath sought thee here
In thy dwelling lone.
Come what comes soever,
The worst I can endure;
Life is but a short fever,
And death is the cure.
Mellea pars anni, florum frondumqve creatrix,
Iam viridi valles et iuga veste tegit;
Colloqvium vocalis agit cum compare turtur,
Laeta novis plumis Attica cantat avis.
Ver rediit ruri: iam qvaeqve repullulat herba,
Iam micat in vitreo sqvamma refecta lacu.
Cornua mutatus suspendit in arbore cervus;
Deposita veteri caprea pelle salit.
Findit iter liqvidum muscas ubi captet hirundo;
Proiicit hibernam vipera picta cutim:
Sedula miscet apis fragrantem mellis acervum,
Pestis enim florum noxia fugit hiems.
Cetera laetantur: deponunt cetera curas:
Sed mihi tristitiae flebile crescit onus.
Caeca tristia nuntias,
Rupis incola saxeae:
Ast ego ingrediens loca
Sola, qvos habitas Lares,
Nescio ipsa tremorem :
Ipsa nescia sum metus,
Qvalecumqve minaberis
Certa pessima perpeti:
Vita febris enim fugax;
Mors habet medicinam.
|