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THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I.

What slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours,
Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he
On faith, and changed gods, complain, and seas

Rough with black winds, and storms

Unwonted shall admire!
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who, always vacant, always amiable,

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they,
To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vow'd
Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds

To the stern god of sea.

GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH.

Brutus thus addresses Diana in the country of Leogecia.

Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep;
On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell
What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek,
What certain seat, where I may worship thee
For aye, with temples vow'd, and virgin choirs.

71? whomj sleeping before the altar, Diana answers in a vision the same night,

Brutus, far to the west, in the ocean wide,
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old;
Now void, it fits thy people : thither bend

But full soon they did devour

The tawny king with all his power;

For his, &c.
His chosen people he did bless
In the wasteful wilderness;

For his, &c.
In bloody battle he brought down
Kings of prowess and renown;

p'or his, &c.
He foil'd bold Seon and his host,
That ruled the Amorrean coast;

For his, &c.
And large-limb'd Og he did subdue,
With all his over-hardy crew;

For his, &c.
And, to'his servant Israel,
He gave their land therein to dwell;

For his, &c.
He hath, with a piteous eye,
Beheld us in our misery;

For his, Sec.
And freed us from the slavery
Of the invading enemy;

For his, &c.
All living creatures he doth feed,
And with full hand supplies their need;

For his, &c.
Let us, therefore, warble forth
His mighty majesty and worth;

For his, &c.
That his mansion hath on high,
Above the reach of mortal eye;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.

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THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I.

What slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours,
Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he
On faith, and changed gods, complain, and seas

Rough with black winds, and storms

Unwonted shall admire!
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who, always vacant, always amiable,

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they,
To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vow'd
Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds

To the stern god of sea.

GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH.

Brutus thus addresses Diana in the country C/'leogecia.

Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep;
On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell
What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek,
What certain seat, where I may worship thee
For aye, with temples vow'd, and virgin choirs.

To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana answers in a vision the same night.

Brutus, far to the west, in the ocean wide,
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old;
Now void, it fits thy people : thither bend

374 FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS.

Thy course, there shalt thou find a lasting seat;
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,
And kings be born of thee, whose dreadful might
Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold.

DANTE.

Ah, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion, but those rich domains
That the first wealthy pope received of thee.

DANTE.

Founded in chaste and humble poverty,

'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn.

Impudent whore! where hast thou placed thy hope?

In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth?

Another Constantine comes not in haste.

ARIOSTO.

Then pass'd he to a flowery mountain green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously
This was the gift, if you the truth will have,
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave.

HORACE.

Whom do we count a good man? Whom but he
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate,
Who judges in great suits and controversies,
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause?
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood,
Sees his foul inside through his whited skin.

HORACE.

The power that did create can change the scene
Of things, make mean of great, and great of mean:
The brightest glory can eclipse with might,
And place the most obscure in dazzling light.

HORACE.

All barbarous people and their princes too,
All purple tyrants honour you,

The very wandering Scythians do.
Support the pillar of the Roman state,
Lest all men be involved in one man's fate,

Continue us in wealth and state,

Let wars and tumults ever cease.

CATULLUS.

The worst of poets I myself declare,
By how much you the best of poetstare.

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