may not unseemly with its stillness suit; thy genial, loved return! for when thy folding-star arising shows who slept in buds the day, and many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, and sheds the fresh'ning dew, and, lovelier still, the pensive pleasures sweet, prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; by thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain and hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires, the gradual dusky veil. While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, beneath thy lingering light; while sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; affrights thy shrinking train, and rudely rends thy robes; so long regardful of thy quiet rule, shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, and love thy favourite name! W. COLLINS 519 TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW HY do ye weep, sweet Babes? can tears WHY speak grief in you, who were but born just as the modest morn teemed her refreshing dew? Alas, you have not known that shower that mars a flower; nor felt the unkind breath of a blasting wind; or warpt, as we, who think it strange to see such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, ye droop and weep; is it for want of sleep? or childish lullaby? or that ye have not seen as yet Or brought a kiss from that sweet-heart, to this? by your tears shed would have this lecture read, that things of greatest, so of meanest worth, conceived with grief are and with tears brought forth. R. HERRICK 520 GET CORINNA'S GOING A MAYING ET up, get up for shame, the blooming morn upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair fresh-quilted colours through the air: the dew-bespangling herb and tree. Each flower has wept, and bowed towards the East, above an hour since: yet you not drest, nay, not so much as out of bed? when all the birds have matins said, nay, profanation to keep in, when as a thousand Virgins on this day Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen 521 and sweet as Flora. Take no care gems in abundance upon you: besides, the childhood of the day has kept, hangs on the dew-locks of the night: retires himself, or else stands still till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying: Come let us go, while we are in our prime; We shall grow old apace, and die Our life is short; and our days run all love, all liking, all delight lies drowned with us in endless night: Then while time serves, and we are but decaying; HERMOTIMUS R. HERRICK VAINLY were the words of parting spoken; VAINLY ever more must Charon turn from me. Still my thread of life remains unbroken, only they may rest whom the Fates' behest from their mortal mansion setteth free. I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten— durst I venture too ever shut for me the quiet land. 272 Passages for Translation into Latin Lyric Verse Day and night before the dreary portal if he cannot show Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest- Pythian! Archer! brightest God and bravest, thus be cast away: Plead for me thy slave-O plead to Jove! I have heard thee with the Muses singingheard that full melodious voice of thine, silver-clear throughout the ether ringing— seen thy locks in golden clusters shine; and thine eye, so bright with its innate light, hath ere now been bent so low as mine. Hast thou lost the wish-the will-to cherish still he lives, the firstling of thy bower; fondly meets thy gaze, though but now the spirit of a flower. W. E. AYTOUN PASSAGES FOR TRANSLATION INTO LATIN COMIC IAMBICS I SCENE FROM TWELFTH NIGHT SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK-SEBASTIAN-SIR TOBY BELCH Sir And. Seb. -CLOWN Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you. [striking Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there: are all the people mad? Sir To. Clo. [draws, beating Sir A. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. in some of your coats for two-pence. Sir And. [holding Seb. Nay, let him alone; I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. Seb. Sir To. Let go thy hand. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well flesh'd; come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. Sir To. What, what! Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [draws W. SHAKESPEARE 2 SCENE FROM MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR FALSTAFF-BARDOLPH Fal. Bardolph, I say! Bard. Here, sir. Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't. Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of F. S. II. 18 |