Pindi nivalis vertice aut Nysæ in jugis, Talis recursat huc et huc motu effero, Furoris ore signa lymphati ferens. Flammata facies spiritum ex alto citat; Proclamat, oculos uberi fletu rigat;
Renidet, omnis specimen affectus capit.
230. L. Donnez moins de croyance à votre passion. A. Ayez moins de faiblesse, ou moins d'ambition. L. Ne traitez plus si mal un conseil salutaire. A. Le ciel m'inspirera ce qu' ici je dois faire. Adieu: nous perdons temps. L. Je ne vous quitte point,
Seigneur, que mon amour n'ait obtenu ce point.
A. C'est l'amour des grandeurs qui vous rend importune.
L. J'aime votre personne, et non votre fortune.
231. He who is prosperous never ought to think With him benignant Fortune will remain Invariably; for that capricious goddess, If goddess we must call her, loathes to dwell Perpetually beneath one roof. The wealth Of mortals is but mortal: e'en the proud, And they who from the present moment form Their judgment of hereafter, to their cost Are taught by Fortune's self this mournful truth.
232. Heroic men, magnanimous in vain ; If 'tis your fix'd resolve to follow me In efforts desperate, ye see our lot, Our present state. The deities by whom This empire stood have all abandon'd now Their shrines and altars; to a burning town Ye succour bring: then let us die, and rush To thickest fight. The vanquish'd can but find
233. The twin-born serpents kept the narrow pass, Kindled their fiery eyes,
Darted their tongues of terror, and roll'd out Their undulating length,
Like the long streamers of some gallant ship, Buoy'd on the wavy air,
Still struggling to flow on, and still withheld: The scent of living flesh Inflam'd their appetite.
234. Wound not the soul of a departed man: 'Tis impious cruelty; let justice strike The living, but in mercy spare the dead. And why pursue the shadow that is past? Why slander the deaf earth that cannot hear, The dumb that cannot utter? When the soul No longer takes account of human wrongs, Nor joys nor sorrows touch the mould'ring heart. As well may you give feeling to the tomb As what it covers: both alike defy you.
235. Madam, I come a stranger to your presence, By misery embolden'd, and urg'd on
By desperation. In your pity only
Lives all the hope of my most wretched state. O kill it not, push me not to the brink
Of misery so deep and terrible.
Have pity, O have pity on my woe.
Thou art a woman, and a woman's heart Will not be shut against a wretched woman.
236. Think ye the world could be inhabited, If without any of the rich the poor
Dwelt in a city? Good with evil blended Cannot be sever'd; but to constitute The general happiness, a certain mixture Is requisite; for what the poor man wants The rich bestows, and we of affluent fortunes,
Supplying what we have not by their toil, Gain in return due homage from the poor. 237. Aye, but thy way—it is too terrible. Death comes to thee not as he visiteth
The sick man's bed, pillow'd with weeping friends: Oh no; nor yet as on the battle field
He meets the blood-warm'd soldier in his mail, Greeting him proudly. Thou must bend thy neck, This neck round which mine arms now circling close
Do feel the loving warmth of youthful life, Beneath the griding axe. O horrible!
238. Mortal thou art, and must expect to suffer The lot of mortals: cans't thou hope to lead The life of Jove, who art but a mere man? Death puts an end to all the little strife Of mortals. For what arbiter on earth Is more decisive? Who can make the tomb Feel pain, altho' he smite it with his spear? Or who by bitter taunts molest the dead, If they are left devoid of all sensation ? 239. Æneas now and Tarchon by the shore
Raise funeral pyres, as ancient rites ordain'd: Each brings the bodies of his countrymen : Black fires beneath are kindled, and the sky Bedimm'd with dusky fumes: thrice round the blaze Both horse and foot, with brilliant arms adorn'd, Run with loud shrieks: their armour and the ground With tears they sprinkle; shouts and trumpet-peals Ascend to heaven.
240. Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy: No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine, No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine. Bright as his manly sire the son shall be
Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love at last Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past, With many a smile my solitude repay,
And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away. 241. I. Périsse le Troyen, auteur de nos alarmes !
A. Sa perte à ses vainqueurs coûtera bien des larmes. I. Les dieux daignent surtout prendre soin de vos jours!
A. Les dieux, depuis un temps, me sont cruels et sourds.
I. Calchas, dit-on, prépare un pompeux sacrifice. A. Puisse-je auparavant fléchir leur injustice?
I. L'offrira-t-on bientôt? A. Plus tôt que je ne
I. Me sera-t-il permis de me joindre à vos vœux? A. Hélas! I. Vous vous taisez? A. Vous y serez, ma fille.
242. Hippolytus his sire, as story tells,
By wrath of Theseus and a stepdame's guile Was doom'd to perish, dragg'd by horses wild, But back to realms of light and air recall'd By medicinal herbs and Cynthia's love: Then Jupiter, indignant that to life From nether shades a mortal should return, Apollo's child, for such invented art, Drove thunderstricken to the Stygian pool. What is it on earth,
Nay, under heav'n, continues at a stay? Ebbs not the sea when it hath overflown? Follows not darkness when the day is gone? And see we not sometimes the eye of heaven Dimm'd with o'erflying clouds? There's not that work Of careful nature, or of cunning art,
How strong, how beauteous, or how rich it be, But falls in time to ruin.
I regard not as a straw the world: Fame from the tongues of men doth injury Oft'ner than justice; and as conscience Only makes guilty persons, not report (For show we clear as springs unto the world, If our own knowledge doth not make us so, That is small satisfaction to ourselves),
So stand we ne'er so lep'rous to men's eyes, It cannot hurt heart-known integrity.
245. He on his temples twin'd a leafy bough; Then to the Genius of the place, to Earth, Eldest of Gods, to Rivers yet unknown,
And Nymphs he pray'd; invok'd the Night and Stars, Idæan Jove and Phrygian Cybele,
His heavenly mother and his sire below.
Thrice answer'd thundering from the clear bright heaven
Almighty Jove, and, as he shook the cloud, A gleam on high of golden rays reveal'd. 246. It can be no man's wish to purchase lords Superior to himself, and introduce them
Into his house: but thee whoe'er beholds With fear is smitten, for those eyes dart fire, As by the lion when the raging bull
Expects to be assaulted. Thou art silent;
Yet, ere thou speak'st, thy manner plainly shows To my behests thou never wilt attend,
But art dispos'd to govern, not obey.
247. Give me good proofs of what you have alleg❜d. 'Tis not enough to say, in such a bush
There lies a thief, in such a cave a beast;
But you must show me to him ere I shoot, Else I may kill one of my straggling sheep. I'm fond of no man's person, but his virtue.
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