« ElőzőTovább »
109. The tree's distinguish'd by the fruit:
Be virtue then your first pursuit.
Set your great ancestors in view;
Like them, deserve the title too ;
Like them, ignoble actions scorn :
Let virtue prove you greatly born.
110. A land there is beyond the Phasis' stream
Productive of luxuriant grain, refresh'd
By streams unnumber'd; for its herds of kine
And fleecy sheep distinguish’d; from the blasts
Of freezing winter shelter'd, nor expos'd
To the immoderate beams of torrid suns. 111. In woods, in waves, in storms, doth honour dwell,
And will be found with peril and with paine:
Nor can the man that moulds in idle cell
Unto her happie mansion attaine.
Before her gate high God did sweat ordaine
And wakeful watches ever to abide. 112. Famous and over famous Eta reign'd
Dryops : him beauteous Polydora bore
To the river-god Sperchius. But above
Mother and sire, far brighter in renown,
Was Dryope their daughter, the belov’d
Of him who drives through heaven his golden car. 113. The first of all attainments is to bear
What happens with composure. Such a man
Is truly good ; calamity on him
Inflicts but a slight wound. But though in words
We on this topic can expatiate long,
The difficulty lies in acting well.
114. Fraud show'd in comely clothes a lovely looke,
An humble cast of eye, a sober pace;
But all the rest deformedly did looke,
As full of filthinesse and foul disgrace,
Hid under long large garments that she wore,
Beneath the which a poyson'd knife she bore,
115. By Ajax' tomb in solemn state
I, Virtue, as a mourner wait,
With hair dishevell’d, sable vest,
Fast-straining eyes, and heaving breast,
Since in the Grecian tents I see
Fraud, hateful Fraud, preferr'd to me.
116. Each hath his shining qualities, and wears
The livelong day intent on that pursuit
For which he best is qualified. No right
Hast thou to censure this my frame as weak
And womanish, for if I am endu'd
With wisdom, that exceeds the nervous arm. 117. When the moon shone we did not see the candle ;
So doth the greater glory dim the less.
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by ; and then his state
Empties itself, as does an inland brook
Into the main of waters.
118. Unskilful as thou art, my son, the reins
Forbear to handle, nor ascend the car
Thou ne'er hast been instructed how to drive.
The air of Libya enter not, which, void
Of moisture, will depress thy glowing wheels
And make them sink to earth.
119. Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees,
And all who know it come and come again.
The small birds build there ; and at summer-noon
Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,
As in the shining grass she sat conceald,
Sing to herself. 120.
Alas! what are we kings?
Why do you, Gods, place us above the rest,
To be serv’d, flatter'd, and ador'd, till we
Believe we hold within our hands your thunder;
And when we come to try the power we have,
There's not a leaf shakes at our threatenings.
121. Could every drunkard, ere he sits to dine,
Feel in his head the dizzy fumes of wine,
No more would Bacchus chain the willing soul,
But loathing horror shun the poison'd bowl:
But frantic joy foreruns the pains of fate,
And real good we cannot calculate. 122. But to the sevenfold Pleiades direct
Thy course. He heard, then seized the rein, and
With sounding thong the winged steeds. They flew
Through the ethereal height. Behind them came
The anxious sire, admonishing his son:
Turn thence, or, Hither guide thy fervid wheels. 123. Th' unbusied shepherd, stretch'd beneath the haw
His careless limbs thrown out in wanton ease,
With thoughtless gaze perusing the arch'd heavens,
And idly whistling while his sheep feed round him,
Enjoys a sweeter shade than that of canopies.
Hemm'd in with cares, and shook by storms of
Thou pride of heaven,
Iris, who sent thee hither ? and from whence
This sudden brightness in the firmament?
I see the mid sky open, and above
The stars careering. Whosesoe'er it be,
Th' auspicious call I follow.
125. Dim grow the planets when the God of day
Rolls his swift chariot through the heav'nly way.
The moon's immortal round, no longer bright,
Shrinks in pale terror from the glorious light;
Thus, all eclips'd by Homer's wondrous blaze,
The crowd of poets hide their lesser rays.
126. These are the best possessions, O my mother,
And far beyond all wealth, which takes its flight
On rapid wings; because a virtuous race
Of children are a treasure to their house:
In them the parents find their youth renew'd,
And fame transmitted to a distant age. 127. Think not that prayer can change the fates divine:
Yet hear my words, and comfort take from them.
The bodering tribes, by heavenly signs compell’d,
Shall expiate their offence, a sepulchre
Raise to thy bones, and solemn rites perform ;
And Palinurus shall the place be call’d.
128. Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile ;
And by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart.
All my engagements I will construe to thee,
All the charactery of my sad brows:
Leave me with haste.
129. So foolish and so loosely credulous
What man is there as to believe that gods
In offerings of dry bones and blazing entrails,
Which even hungry dogs disdain to eat,
Can find delight, and claim such privilege,
And render rich reward to them that yield it? 130. Unhappy boy, what honours can I pay
To worth like thine! These arms, thy pride, retain :
Thee to the ghosts and ashes of thy sires,
If that may aught concern thee, I restore.
Yet e'en in death be solac'd with the thought,
By great Æneas thou wert overcome. 131. O miserable lot of the poor soldier !
Whenever he comes in, all flee before him,
And when he goes away, the general curse
Follows him on his route. All must be seized,
Nothing is given him ; and compell’d to take
From every man, he's every man's abhorrence.
132. A city or a house by human prudence
Is govern'd well, and in th' embattled field
Great is the strength of wisdom ; for one counsel
Plann'd with discretion baffles many swords :
But folly, tho' supported by a host
Of countless warriors, only proves their bane. 133. If from this day I dated all my grief,
Had I ne'er known till now such tedious voyage
Upon the waves of misery, like a colt
New to the yoke, when he the galling rein
Endures for the first time, I might have winc'd :
But now am I grown callous thro’ affliction. 134. What! have you let the false enchanter 'scape ?
O ye mistook ; ye should have snatch'd his wand,
And bound him fast. Without his rod revers'd,
And backward mutters of dissevering pow'r,
We cannot free the lady that sits here
In stony fetters, fix'd and motionless.
135. Fate overwhelms me, to the storm I yield.
Unhappy men, with blood the sacrilege
Ye shall atone ; thou, Turnus, rue the day,
And pour too late to heaven repentant vows.
Near had I gain'd the port, my last repose,
A peaceful grave: of this am I depriv'd. 136. All is o'er, the pain, the sorrow,
Human taunts and Satan's spite;
Death shall be despoild to-morrow
Of the prey he grasps to-night:
Yet once more, his own to save, .
Christ must sleep within the grave. 137. Fierce and deadly was the anguish
On the bitter cross He bore;
How did soul and body languish,
Till the toil of death was o'er !
But that toil, so fierce and dread,
Bruis'd and crush'd the serpent's head.