He measures time by landmarks, and has found | Does with a like concernment notice take
For the whole day the dial of his ground:
A neighb'ring wood, born with himself, he sees,
And loves his old contemporary trees;
He's only heard of near Verona's name,
And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame;
Of the Red Sea, and of Benacus' lake.
Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys,
And sees a long posterity of boys.
About the spacious world let others roam,
The voyage, life, is longest made at home.
[Born in the early part, died about the close, of the fourth century.J
DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS was the son of | Gratian, and attended that emperor in his GerJulius Ausonius, an eminent physician of Gaul. He was born at Burdigala, (now Bourdeaux) and at the age of thirty filled the chair of rhetorical professor in that city. He was afterwards appointed by Valentinian preceptor to his son
man campaigns. Under Gratian he was raised to the consular dignity, and, after his death, retired into his own country, where he ended his days. By his wife, Attusia Lucana Sabina, he left two sons.
'Twas spring; the morn return'd in saffron veil,
And breathed a nipping coolness in the gale.
A keener air had harbinger'd the dawn,
That drove her coursers o'er the eastern lawn.
The breezy cool allured my feet to stray,
And thus anticipate the fervid day.
Another, gathering every purfled fold,
Its foliage multiplied; its blooms unroll'd;
The teeming chives shot forth; the petals spread,
The bow-pot's glory rear'd its smiling head:
While this, that ere the passing moment flew,
Flam'd forth one blaze of scarlet on the view;
Now shook from withering stalk the waste per-
fume,
Through the broad walks I trod the garden Its verdure stript, and pale its faded bloom.
I marvell'd at the spoiling flight of time,
And roam'd, refresh'd against the noontide hours. That roses thus grew old in earliest prime.
I saw the hoary dew's congealing drops
Bend the tall grass and vegetable tops;
On the broad leaves play'd bright the trembling
And airy waters bow'd the laden stems.
There Pæstan roses blush'd before my view,
Bedrop'd with early morning's freshening dew;
The sprinkled pearls on every rose-bush lay,
Anon to melt before the beams of day.
"Twere doubtful, if the blossoms of the rose
Had robb'd the morning, or the morning those
In dew, in tint, the same, the star and flower,
For both confess the queen of beauty's power.
Perchance their sweets the same: but this more
nigh
Exhales its breath; and that embalms the sky:
Of flower and star the goddess is the same,
And both she tinged with hues of roseate flame.
I saw a moment's interval divide
The rose that blossom'd, from the rose that
died.
This, with the cap of tufted moss look'd green;
That, tipp'd with reddening purple peep'd be-
One rear'd its obelisk with opening swell,
The bud unsheathed its crimson pinnacle;
Thy gifts, just shown, are ravish'd from our eyes.
One day, the rose's age; and while it blows
In dawn of youth, it withers to its close.
The rose the glittering sun beheld, at morn,
Spread to the light its blossoms newly born,
When in his round he looks from evening skies,
Already droops in age, and fades, and dies.
Yet blest, that, soon to fade, the numerous flower
Succeeds herself, and still prolongs her hour.
Oh virgins! roses cull, while yet ye may:
So bloom your hours, and so shall haste away.
ON A SHIPWRECKED FRIEND.
Ir, mouldering far o'er distant seas,
The unburied corse is doomed to lie,
Yet may some pious rites appease
The spirit sadly wandering by.
Call'd by a friend's or brother's voice, And honour'd with an empty pile, Yet may the weary ghost rejoice,
And grace our orgies with a smile.
Though to the funeral urn denied,
Thus shall his ashes rest in peace;
"And every sad complaint subside,
And every mournful murmur cease."
OF RUFUS FESTUS AVIENUS we know little | and was the author of some Apologues, dedimore than that he translated Aratus and Diony-cated to Theodosius the elder, the father of Hosius Periegetes, paraphrased the decads of Livy, norius.
THE OAK AND THE REED. FROM mountain summits, by the roots uptorn, Down rush'd an oak, on madding whirlwind borne ;
A stream, that wound beneath its swelling course, Receiv'd, and, hurrying, snatch'd with eddying
Impell'd from bank to bank, the ponderous freight
Now on a bed of reeds repos' its weight;
And, clinging to a turf that edged the flood,
Admired, how firm the watery bulrush stood:
That his vast trunk should topple from its height,
And the slim stem resist the tempest's might.
The reed with slender whisperings bland replies,
"In this my weakness, know, my safety lies.
Thou scorn'st the storm and buffetest the blast,
And thy whole strength to earth is prostrate cast;
I, soft and slow, the rising gusts delay,
And, provident, give every gale its way.
The blast, that smites thy gnarled strength, but
plies
With my light motions, dallies, sports, and dies."
Brunt not events, these whisper'd warnings say,
Stern Fortune's threats shall soften from delay.
My mind maintains its peace; from feverish dread
Secure, and fear of crimes, that sloth has bred.
Others let toilsome camps or curule chairs
Invite, and joys which vain ambition shares.
May I, my lot among the people thrown,
The badge of rank unsought for and unknown,
Live to myself, and call my time mine own.
COUNTRY RETIREMENT.
SAFE-ROOF'D my cottage; swelling rich with
Hangs from the twisted elm my cluster'd vine. Boughs glow with cherries, apples bend my wood;
And the crush'd olive foams with juicy flood.
Where my light beds the scattering rivulet drink,
My simple pot-herbs flourish on the brink;
And poppies smiling wave the rosy head,
That yield no opiate to a restless bed.
If for the birds I weave the limed snare,
Or for the startlish deer the net prepare,
Or with a slender thread the fish delude,
No other wiles disturb these woodlands rude.
Go now, and barter life's calm stealing days
For pompous suppers, that with luxury blaze:
SMALL fields are mine; a small and guiltless rent; Pray Heaven! for me the lot may thus be cast,
In both I prize the quiet of content.
And future time glide peaceful as the past.
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