Godlike in its kind as thou?
ON A BATH, BY PLATO
Did Cytherea to the skies
From this pellucid lymph arise?
Or was it Cytherea’s touch,
When bathing here, that made it such?
ON PALLAS BATHING, FROM A HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS
Nor oils of balmy scene produce,
Nor mirror for Minerva’s use,
Ye nymphs who lave her; she, array’d
In genuine beauty, scorns their aid.
Not even when they left the skies,
To seek on Ida’s head the prize
From Paris’ hand, did Juno deign,
Or Pallas in the crystal plain
Of Simois’ stream her locks to trace,
Or in the mirror’s polished face,
Though Venus oft with anxious care
Adjusted twice a single hair.
FROM MENANDER
Fond youth! who dream’st that hoarded gold
Is needful not alone to pay
For all thy various items sold,
To serve the wants of every day;
Bread, vinegar, and oil, and meat,
For savory viands season’d high;
But somewhat more important yet —
I tell thee what it cannot buy.
No treasure hadst thou more amass’d
Than fame to Tantalus assign’d,
Would save thee from a tomb at last,
But thou must leave it all behind.
I give thee, therefore, counsel wise;
Confide not vainly in thy store,
However large — much less despise
Others comparatively poor;
But in thy more exalted state
A just and equal temper show
That all who see thee rich and great,
May deem thee worthy to be so.
ON LATE ACQUIRED WEALTH
Poor in my youth, and in life’s later scenes
Rich to no end, I curse my natal hour,
Who nought enjoy’d while young, denied the means;
And nought when old enjoy’d, denied the power.
ON FLATTERERS
No mischief worthier of our fear
In nature can be found
Than friendship, in ostent sincere,
But hollow and unsound,
For lull’d into a dangerous dream
We close infold a foe,
Who strikes, when most secure we seem,
The inevitable blow.
ON A TRUE FRIEND
Hast thou a friend? thou hast indeed
A rich and large supply.
Treasure to serve your every need,
Well managed, till you die.
ON INVALIDS
Far happier are the dead, methinks, than they
Who look for death, and fear it every day.
ON THE ASTROLOGERS
The astrologers did all alike presage
My uncle’s dying in extreme old age;
One only disagreed. But he was wise,
And spoke not till he heard the funeral cries.
ON AN OLD WOMAN
Mycilla dyes her locks, ’tis said:
But ’tis a foul aspersion;
She buys them black; they therefore need
No subsequent immersion.
TO DEMOSTHENES
It flatters and deceives thy view,
This mirror of ill-polish’d ore;
For, were it just, and told thee true,
Thou wouldst consult it never more.
ON A SIMILAR CHARACTER
You give your cheks a rosy stain,
With washes dye your hair;
But paint and washes both are vain
To give a youthful air.
Those wrinkles mock your daily toil,
No labor will efface ‘em,
You wear a mask of smoothest oil,
Yet still with ease we trace ‘em.
An art so fruitless then forsake,
Which though you much excel in,
You never can contrive to make
Old Hecuba young Helen.
ON A BATTERED BEAUTY
Hair, wax, rouge, honey, teeth you buy,
A multifarious store!
A mask at once would all supply
Nor would it cost you more.
ON AN UGLY FELLOW
Beware, my friend! of crystal brook,
Or fountain, lest that hideous hook,
Thy nose, thou chance to see;
Narcissus’ fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou wouldst pine,
As self-enamour’d he.
ON A THIEF
When Aulus, the nocturnal thief, made prize
Of Hermes, swift-wing’d envoy of the skies,
Hermes, Arcadia’s king, the thief divine,
Who when an infant stole Apollo’s kine,
And whom, as arbiter and overseer
Of our gymnastic sports, we planted here;
‘Hermes,’ he cried, ‘you meet no new disaster
Ofttimes the pupil goes beyond the master.’
ON ENVY
Pity, says the Theban bard,
From my wishes I discard;
Envy, let me rather be,
Rather far, a theme for thee.
Pity to distress is shown.
Envy to the great alone —
So the Theban — But to shine
Less conspicuous be mine!
I prefer the golden mean,
Pomp and penury between;
For alarm and peril wait
Ever on the loftiest state
And the lowest to the end
Obloquy and scorn attend.
ON PEDIGREE. FROM EPICHARMUS
My mother! if thou love me, name no more
My noble birth! Sounding at every breath
My noble birth, thou kill’st me. Thither fly,
As to their only refuge, all from whom
Nature withholds all good besides; they boast
Their noble birth, conduct us to the tombs
Of their forefathers, and, from age to age
Ascending, trumpet their illustrious race:
But whom hast thou beheld, or canst thou name,
Derived from no forefathers? Such a man
Lives not; for how could such be born at all?
And, if it chance that, native of a land
Far distant, or in infancy deprived
Of all his kindred, one, who cannot trace
His origin, exist, why deem him sprung
From baser ancestry than theirs who can?
My mother! he whom nature at his birth
Endow’d with virtuous qualities, although
An Æthiop and a slave, is nobly born.
BY PHILEMON
Oft we embrace our ills by discontent,
And give them bulk beyond what nature meant.
A parent, brother, friend deceased, to cry —
‘He’s dead indeed, but he was born to die’ —
Such temperate grief is suited to the size
And burden of the loss; is just and wise.
But to exclaim, ‘Ah! wherefore was I born,
Thus to be left forever thus forlorn?’
Who thus laments his loss invites distress,
And magnifies a woe that might be less,
Through dull despondence to his lot resign’d,
And leaving reason’s remedy behind.
BY MOSCHUS
I slept when Venus enter’d: to my bed
A Cupid in her beauteous hand she led,
A bashful seeming boy, and thus she said:
‘Shepherd, receive my little one! I bring
An untaught love, whom thou must teach to sing.’
She said, and left him. I, suspecting nought,
Many a sweet strain my subtle pupil taught,
How reed to reed Pan first with osier bound,
How Pallas form’d the pipe
of softest sound,
How Hermes gave the lute, and how the quire
Of Phoebus owe to Phoebus’ self the lyre.
Such were my themes; my themes nought heeded he
But ditties sang of amorous sort to me.
The pangs that mortals and immortals prove
From Venus’ influence and the darts of love.
Thus was the teacher by the pupil taught;
His lessons I retain’d, he mine forgot.
AN EPIGRAM FROM HOMER
Pay me my price, potters! and I will sing.
Attend, O Pallas! and with lifted arm
Protect their oven; let the cups and all
The sacred vessels black well, and, baked
With good success, yield them both fair renown
And profit, whether in the market sold
Or streets, and let no strife ensue between us.
But, oh ye potters! if with shameless front
Ye falsify your promise, then I leave
No mischief uninvoked to avenge the wrong.
Come, Syntrips, Smaragus, Sabactes, come,
And Asbetus, nor let your direst dread,
Omodamus, delay! Fire seize your house,
May neither house nor vestibule escape,
May ye lament to see confusion mar
And mingle the whole labor of your hands,
And may a sound fill all your oven, such
As of a horse grinding his provender,
While all your pots and flagons bounce within.
Come hither, also, daughter of the sun,
Circe the sorceress, and with thy drugs
Poison themselves, and all that they have made
Of centaurs, as well those who died beneath
The club of Hercules, as who escaped,
And stamp their crockery to dust; down fall
Their chimney; let them see it with their eyes
And howl to see the ruin of their art,
While I rejoice; and if a potter stoop
To peep into his furnace, may the fire
Flash in his face and scorch it, that all men
Observe, thenceforth, equity and good faith.
TRANSLATION OF PRIOR’S CHLOE AND EUPHELIA
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, Chloë.
Ad speculum ornabat nitidos Euphelia crines,
Cum dixit mea lux, heus, cane, sume, lyram.
Namque lyram juxta positam cum carmine vidit,
Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram.
Fila lyræ vocemque paro, suspiria surgunt,
Et miscent numeris mumura mœsta meis,
Dumque tuæ memoro laudes, Euphelia formæ,
Tota anima interea pendet ab ore Chloës.
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.
TRANSLATION OF DRYDEN’S POEM ON MILTON.
Tres tria, sed longe distantia, saecula vates
Ostentant tribus e gentibus eximios.
Graecia sublimem, cum majestate disertum
Roma tulit, felix Anglia utrique parem.
Partubus ex binis Natura exhausta, coacta est,
Tertis ut fieret, consociare duos.
TRANSLATION OF A SIMILE IN PARADISE LOST.
Quales aerii montis de vertice nubes
Cum surgunt, et jam Boreae tumida ora quierunt,
Caelum hilares abdit spissa caligine vultus,
Nimbosumque nives aut imbres cogitat aether:
Tum si jucundo tandem sol prodeat ore,
Et croceo montes et pascua lumine tingat,
Gaudent omnia, aves mulcent concentibus agros,
Balatuque ovium colles vallesque resultant.
A SIMILE LATINISED.
Sors adversa gerit stimulum, sed tendit et alas:
Pungit api similis, sed velut ista fugit.
Translations from the Fables of Gay
CONTENTS
LEPUS MULTIS AMICUS.
AVARUS ET PLUTUS.
PAPILIO ET LIMAX.
LEPUS MULTIS AMICUS.
Lusus amicitia est, uni nisi dedita, ceu fit,
Simplice ni nexus fœdere, lusus amor.
Incerto genitore puer, non sæpe paternæ
Tutamen novit, deliciasque domûs:
Quique sibi fidos fore multos sperat, amicus
Mirum est huic misero si ferat ullus opem.
Comis erat, mitisque, et nolle et velle paratus
Cum quovis, Gaii more modoque, Lepus.
Ille, quot in sylvis et quot spatiantur in agris
Quadrupedes, nôrat conciliare sibi;
Et quisque innocuo, invitoque lacessere quenquam
Labra tenus saltem fidus amicus erat.
Ortum sub lucis dum pressa cubilia linquit,
Rorantes herbas, pabula sueta, petens,
Venatorum audit clangores ponè sequentem,
Fulmineumque sonum territus erro fugit.
Corda pavor pulsat, sursum sedet, erigit aures,
Respicit, et sentit jam prope adesse necem.
Utque canes fallat latè circumvagus, illuc,
Unde abiit, mirâ calliditate redit;
Viribus at fractis tandem se projicit ultro
In mediâ miserum semianimemque viâ.
Vix ibi stratus, equi sonitum pedis audit, et, oh spe
Quam lætâ adventu cor agitatur equi!
Dorsum (inquit) mihi, chare, tuum concede, tuoque
Auxilio nares fallere, vimque canum.
Me meus, ut nosti, pes prodit — fidus amicus
Fert quodcunque, lubens, nec grave sentit, onus.
Belle, miselle lepuscule, (equus respondet) amara
Omnia quæ tibi sunt, sunt et amara mihi.
Verum age — sume animos — multi, me pone, bonique
Adveniunt, quorum sis citò salvus ope.
Proximus armenti dominus bos solicitatus
Auxilium his verbis se dare posse negat:
Quando quadrupedum, quot vivunt, nullus amicum
Me nescire potest usque fuisse tibi,
Libertate æquus, quam cedit amicus amico,
Utar, et absque metu ne tibi displiceam;
Hinc me mandat amor. Juxta istum messis acervum
Me mea, præ cunctis chara, juvenca manet;
Et quis non ultro quæcunque negotia linquit,
Pareat ut dominæ cum vocat ipsa suæ?
Nec me crudelem dicas — discedo — sed hircus,
Cujus ope effugias integer, hircus adest.
Febrem (ait hircus) habes. Heu, sicca ut lumina languent!
Utque caput, collo deficiente, jacet!
Hirsutum mihi tergum; et forsan læserit ægrum,
Vellere eris melius fultus, ovisque venit.
Me mihi fecit onus natura, ovis inquit, anhelans
Sustineo lanæ pondera tanta meæ;
Me nec velocem nec fortem jacto, solentque
Nos etiam sævi dilacerare canes.
Ultimus accedit vitulus, vitulumque precatur,
Ut periturum alias ocyus eripiat.
Remne ergo, respondet vitulus, suscepero tantam,
Non depulsus adhuc ubere, natus heri?
Te, quem maturi canibus validique relinquunt,
Incolumem potero reddere parvus ego?
Præterea tollens quem illi aversantur, amicis
Forte parum videar consuluisse meis.
Ignoscas oro. Fidissima dissociantur
Corda, et tale tibi sat liquet esse meum.
Ecce autem ad calces canis est! te quanta perempto
Tristitia est nobis ingruitura! — Vale!
AVARUS ET PLUTUS.
Icta fenestra Euri flatu stridebat, avarus
Ex
somno trepidus surgit, opumque memor.
Lata silenter humi ponit vestigia, quemque
Respicit ad sonitum, respiciensque tremit;
Angustissima quæque foramina lampade visit,
Ad vectes, obices, fertque refertque manum.
Dein reserat crebris junctam compagibus arcam
Exultansque omnes conspicit intus opes.
Sed tandem furiis ultricibus actus ob artes
Queis sua res tenuis creverat in cumulum.
Contortis manibus nunc stat, nunc pectora pulsans
Aurum execratur, perniciemque vocat;
O mihi, ait, misero mens quam tranquilla fuisset,
Hoc celasset adhuc si modo terra malum!
Nunc autem virtus ipsa est venalis; et aurum
Quid contra vitii tormina sæva valet?
O inimicum aurum? O homini infestissima pestis;
Cui datur illecebras vincere posse tuas?
Aurum homines suasit contemnere quicquid honestum est,
Et præter nomen nil retinere boni.
Aurum cuncta mali per terras semina sparsit;
Aurum nocturnis furibus arma dedit.
Bella docet fortes, timidosque ad pessima ducit,
Fœdifragas artes, multiplicesque dolos,
Nec vitii quicquam est, quod non inveneris ortum
Ex malesuadâ auri sacrilegâque fame.
Dixit, et ingemuit; Plutusque suum sibi numen
Ante oculos, irâ fervidus, ipse stetit.
Arcam clausit avarus, et ora horrentia rugis
Ostendens; tremulum sic Deus increpuit.
Questibus his raucis mihi cur, stulte, obstrepis aures?
Ista tui similis tristia quisque canit.
Commaculavi egone humanum genus, improbe? Culpa,
Dum rapis, et captas omnia, culpa tua est.
Mene execrandum censes, quia tam pretiosa
Criminibus fiunt perniciosa tuis?
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 75