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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. Né 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 im-

portune.
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
Safety, when hopes of safety they renounce.

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 thoù 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
In form and soul; but oh ! more blest than he.

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. Périssę 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

veux.
I. Me sera-t-il permis de me joindre à vos voeux ?
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. 243.

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.

244.

I regard not as a straw the world :
Fame from the tongues of men doth injury
Oftner 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 reveald. 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.
Prove that the duke and loyalty are strangers,

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