Book 2 — COWPER'S LATIN POEMS.

En, quæ prodigia, ex oris allata remotis, Oras adveniunt pavefacta per æquora nostras! Non equidem priscæ sæclum rediisse videtur Pyrrhæ, cum Proteus pecus altos visere montes Et sylvas, egit. Sed tempora vix leviora Adsunt, evulsi quando radicitus alti In mare descendunt montes, fluctusque pererrant. Quid vero hoc monstri est magis et mirabile visu? Splendentes video, ceu pulchro ex ære vel auro Conflatos, rutilisque accinctos undique gemmis, Baccâ cærulea, et flammas imitante pyropo. Ex oriente adsunt, ubi gazas optima tellus Parturit omnigenas, quibus æva per omnia sumptu Ingenti finxere sibi diademata reges? Vix hoc crediderim. Non fallunt talia acutos Mercatorum oculos: prius et quam littora Gangis Liquissent, avidis gratissima præda fuissent. Ortos unde putemus? An illos Ves'vius atrox Protulit, ignivomisve ejecit faucibus Ætna? Luce micant propria, Phœbive, per aëra purum Nunc stimulantis equos, argentea tela retorquent? Phœbi luce micant. Ventis et fluctibus altis Appulsi, et rapidis subter currentibus undis, Tandem non fallunt oculos. Capita alta videre est Multa onerata nive et canis conspersa pruinis. Cætera sunt glacies. Procul hinc, ubi Bruma fere omnes Contristat menses, portenta hæc horrida nobis Illa strui voluit. Quoties de culmine summo Clivorum fluerent in littora prona, solutæ Sole, nives, propero tendentes in mare cursu, Illa gelu fixit. Paulatim attollere sese Mirum cœpit opus; glacieque ab origine rerum In glaciem aggesta sublimes vertice tandem Æquavit montes, non crescere nescia moles. Sic immensa diu stetit, æternumque stetisset Congeries, hominum neque vi neque mobilis arte, Littora ni tandem declivia deseruisset, Pondere victa suo. Dilabitur. Omnia circum Antra et saxa gemunt, subito concussa fragore, Dum ruit in pelagum, tanquam studiosa natandi, Ingens tota strues. Sic Delos dicitur olim, Insula, in Ægæo fluitasse erratica ponto. Sed non ex glacie Delos; neque torpida Delum Bruma inter rupes genuit nudum sterilemque. Sed vestita herbis erat illa, ornataque nunquam Decidua lauro; et Delum dilexit Apollo. At vos, errones horrendi, et caligine digni Cimmeria, Deus idem odit. Natalia vestra, Nubibus involvens frontem, non ille tueri Sustinuit. Patrium vos ergo requirite cœlum! Ite! Redite! Timete moras; ni leniter austro Spirante, et nitidas Phœbo jaculante sagittas Hostili vobis, pereatis gurgite misti!

What portents, from what distant region, ride, Unseen till now in ours, the astonish'd tide? In ages past, old Proteus, with his droves Of sea-calves, sought the mountains and the groves. But now, descending whence of late they stood, Themselves the mountains seem to rove the flood. Dire times were they, full charged with human woes; And these, scarce less calamitous than those. What view we now? More wondrous still! Behold! Like burnish'd brass they shine, or beaten gold; And all around the pearl's pure splendour show, And all around the ruby's fiery glow. Come they from India, where the burning earth, All bounteous, gives her richest treasures birth; And where the costly gems, that beam around The brows of mightiest potentates, are found? No. Never such a countless dazzling store Had left unseen the Ganges' peopled shore. Rapacious hands, and ever watchful eyes, Should sooner far have mark'd and seized the prize. Whence sprang they then? Ejected have they come From Vesuvius', or from Ætna's burning womb? Thus shine they self-illumed, or but display The borrow'd splendours of a cloudless day? With borrow'd beams they shine. The gales that breathe Now landward, and the current's force beneath, Have borne them nearer: and the nearer sight, Advantaged more, contemplates them aright. Their lofty summits crested high they show, With mingled sleet, and long-incumbent snow. The rest is ice. Far hence, where, most severe, Bleak winter well nigh saddens all the year, Their infant growth began. He bade arise Their uncouth forms, portentous in our eyes. Oft as dissolved by transient suns, the snow Left the tall cliff, to join the flood below; He caught, and curdled with a freezing blast The current, ere it reach'd the boundless waste. By slow degrees uprose the wondrous pile, And long successive ages roll'd the while; Till, ceaseless in its growth, it claim'd to stand, Tall as its rival mountains on the land. Thus stood, and, unremovable by skill Or force of man, had stood the structure still, But that, though firmly fix'd, supplanted yet By pressure of its own enormous weight, It left the shelving beach—and, with a sound That shook the bellowing waves and rocks around, Self-launch'd, and swiftly, to the briny wave, As if instinct with strong desire to lave, Down went the ponderous mass. So bards of old How Delos swam the Ægean deep have told. But not of ice was Delos. Delos bore Herb, fruit, and flower. She, crown'd with laurel, wore, E'en under wintry skies, a summer smile; And Delos was Apollo's favourite isle. But, horrid wanderers of the deep, to you He deems Cimmerian darkness only due. Your hated birth he deign'd not to survey, But, scornful, turn'd his glorious eyes away. Hence, seek your home, nor longer rashly dare The darts of Phœbus and a softer air; Lest ye regret, too late, your native coast, In no congenial gulf for ever lost!

Hic sepultus est Inter suorum lacrymas GULIELMUS NORTHCOT, GULIELMI et MARIÆ filius Unicus, unice dilectus, Qui floris ritu succisus est semihiantis, Aprilis die septimo, 1780. Æt. 10. Care, vale! Sed non æternum, care, valeto! Namque iterum tecum, sim modo dignus, ero. Tum nihil amplexus poterit divellere nostros, Nec tu marcesces, nec lacrymabor ego.

Farewell! "But not for ever," Hope replies, Trace but his steps and meet him in the skies! There nothing shall renew our parting pain, Thou shalt not wither, nor I weep again.

Perfida, crudelis, victa et lymphata furore, Non armis, laurum Gallia fraude petit. Venalem pretio plebem conducit, et urit Undique privatas patriciasque domos. Nequicquam conata sua, fœdissima sperat Posse tamen nostra nos superare manu. Gallia, vana struis! Precibus nunc utere! Vinces, Nam mites timidis, supplicibusque sumus.

False, cruel, disappointed, stung to the heart, France quits the warrior's for the assassin's part, To dirty hands a dirty bribe conveys, Bids the low street and lofty palace blaze. Her sons too weak to vanquish us alone, She hires the worst and basest of our own. Kneel, France! a suppliant conquers us with ease, We always spare a coward on his knees.

Quæ lenta accedit, quam velox præterit hora! Ut capias, patiens esto, sed esto vigil! Slow comes the hour; its passing speed how great! Waiting to seize it—vigilantly wait!

Sors adversa gerit stimulum, sed tendit et alas: Pungit api similis, sed velut ista fugit.

Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath; His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more.

Plangimus fortes. Periêre fortes, Patrium propter periêre littus Bis quatèr centum; subitò sub alto Æquore mersi. Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat, Malus ad summas trepidabat undas, Cùm levis, funes quatiens, ad imum Depulit aura. Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam Fortibus vitam voluêre parcæ, Nec sinunt ultrà tibi nos recentes Nectere laurus, Magne, qui nomen, licèt incanorum, Traditum ex multis atavis tulisti! At tuos olim memorabit ævum Omne triumphos. Non hyems illos furibunda mersit, Non mari in clauso scopuli latentes, Fissa non rimis abies, nec atrox Abstulit ensis. Navitæ sed turn nimium jocosi Voce fallebant hilari laborem, Et quiescebat, calamoque dextram im- pleverat heros. Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque, Humidum ex alto spolium levate, Et putrescentes sub aquis amicos Reddite amicis! Hi quidem (sic dîs placuit) fuêre: Sed ratis, nondum putris, ire possit Rursus in bellum, Britonumque nomen Tollere ad astra.

Hei mihi! lege ratâ sol occidit atque resurgit, Lunaque mutatæ reparat dispendia formæ, Astraque, purpurei telis extincta diei, Rursus nocte vigent. Humiles telluris alumni. Graminis herba virens, et florum picta propago, Quos crudelis hyems lethali tabe peredit, Cum Zephyri vox blanda vocat, rediitque sereni Temperies anni, fœcundo è cespite surgunt. Nos domini rerum, nos, magna et pulchra minati, Cum breve ver vitæ robustaque transiit ætas, Deficimus; nec nos ordo revolubilis auras Reddit in æthereas, tumuli neque claustra resolvit.

Suns that set, and moons that wane, Rise and are restored again; Stars, that orient day subdues, Night at her return renews. Herbs and flowers, the beauteous birth Of the genial womb of earth, Suffer but a transient death From the winter's cruel breath. Zephyr speaks; serener skies Warm the glebe, and they arise. We, alas! earth's haughty kings, We, that promise mighty things, Losing soon life's happy prime, Droop, and fade, in little time. Spring returns, but not our bloom; Still 'tis winter in the tomb.

The nymph must lose her female friend, If more admired than she— But where will fierce contention end, If flowers can disagree? Within the garden's peaceful scene Appear'd two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of queen, The Lily and the Rose. The Rose soon redden'd into rage, And, swelling with disdain, Appeal'd to many a poet's page To prove her right to reign. The Lily's height bespoke command, A fair imperial flower; She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand The sceptre of her power. This civil bickering and debate The goddess chanced to hear, And flew to save, ere yet too late The pride of the parterre. Yours is, she said, the nobler hue, And yours the statelier mien; And, till a third surpasses you, Let each be deem'd a queen. Thus soothed and reconciled, each seeks The fairest British fair; The seat of empire is her cheeks, They reign united there.

Heu inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma, Quam raro pulchræ pulchra placere potest! Sed fines ultra solitos discordia tendit, Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent. Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessus, Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas; Hic sibi regales Amaryllis candida cultus, Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa. Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt, Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinu, Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatum, Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat. Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat, Ceu flores inter non habitura parem, Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat. Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ, Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes. Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri, Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adest. Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit, Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color, Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas, Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi. His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham, Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit; Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius, hujus Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.

The poplars are fell'd, 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 had 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 any thing 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.[923]

Populeæ cecidit gratissima copia 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 serò rediens, stratasque in gramine cernens, Insedi arboribus, sub queîs errare solebam. 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 priùs huic parilis, quàm creverit altera silva, Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, habebo Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum. Tam subitò periisse videns tam digna manere, Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata— Sit licèt ipse brevis, voluerique simillimus umbræ! Est homini brevior citiùsque obitura voluptas.

O matutini rores, auræque salubres, O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ, Graminei colles, et amœnæ in vallibus umbræ! Fata modò 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 demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis, Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi!

Mercator, vigiles oculos ut fallere possit, Nomine sub ficto trans mare mittit opes; Lenè sonat liquidumque meis Euphelia chordis, Sed solam exoptant te, mea vota, Chlöe. Ad speculum ornabat nitidos Euphelia crines, Cum dixit, mea lux, heus, cane, sume lyram. Namque lyram juxtà positam cum carmine vidit, Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram. Fila lyræ vocemque paro, suspiria surgunt, Et miscent numeris murmura mœsta meis, Dumque tuæ memoro laudes, Euphelia, formæ, Tota anima intereà pendet ab ore Chlöes. Subrubet illa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem, Me torquet mea mens conscia, psallo, tremo; Atque Cupidineâ dixit Dea cincta coronâ, Heu! fallendi artem quam didicere parum.

Our good old friend is gone; gone to his rest, Whose social converse was itself a feast. O ye of riper years, who recollect How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect, Both in the firmness of his better day, While yet he ruled you with a father's sway, And when, impair'd by time, and glad to rest, Yet still with looks in mild complacence drest, He took his annual seat, and mingled here His sprightly vein with yours—now drop a tear! In morals blameless, as in manners meek, He knew no wish that he might blush to speak, But, happy in whatever state below, And richer than the rich in being so, Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed At length from one[924] as made him rich indeed. Hence then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here! Go! garnish merit in a higher sphere, The brows of those, whose more exalted lot He could congratulate, but envied not! Light lie the turf, good senior, on thy breast; And tranquil, as thy mind was, be thy rest. Though, living, thou hadst more desert than fame, And not a stone now chronicles thy name! Abiit senex. Periit senex amabilis, Quo non fuit jucundior. Lugete vos, ætas quibus maturior Senem colendum præstitit; Seu quando, viribus valentioribus Firmoque fretus pectore, Florentiori vos juventute excolens Curâ fovebat patriâ; Seu quando, fractus, jamque donatus rude Vultu sed usque blandulo, Miscere gaudebat suas facetias His annuis leporibus. Vixit probus, purâque simplex indole, Blandisque comis moribus, Et dives æquâ mente, charus omnibus, Unius auctus munere. Ite, tituli! Meritis beatioribus Aptate laudes debitas! Nec invidebat ille, si quibus favens Fortuna plus arriserat. Placide senex, levi quiescas cespite, Etsi superbum nec vivo tibi Decus sit inditum, nec mortuo Lapis notatus nomine!