« EelmineJätka »
Ev'n noiv, when filent scorn is all thy gain,
80 (Far more than e'er can by yourself be guest), Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest. For his firm faith I dare engage my own; Scarce to himself, himself is better known. To distant lands Vertumnus never roves; Like you, contented with his native groves; Nor at first sight, like most, adnires the fair; For you he lives; and you
alone shall share · His last affection, as his early care.
Sollicitata procis: nec quæ Lapitheia movit
Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,
your orchard's early fruits are due,
pure a fire !
Adde, quod eft juvenis; quod naturale decoris go
Nor wiads, when first your florid orchard blows, Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!
This when the various God had urg'd in vain, Hc straight aflum'd his native form again; Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears, As when thro' clouds th' emerging fun appears, And thence exerting his refulgent ray, 116 Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day. Force he prepar'd, but check'd the raih design; For when, appearing in a form divine, The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the
grace Of charming features, and a youthful face, In her soft breast confenting passions move, · And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.
Hæc ubi nequicquam formas Deus aptus in
omnes, Edidit; in juvenem rediit : et anilia demit Instrumenta fibi: talisque apparuit illi, Qualis ubi oppofitas nitidiffima folis imago Evicit nubes, nullaque obftante reluxit. Vimque parat : fed vi non est opus; inque figura : Capta Lei Nympha est, et mutua vulnera sentit.
IMITATIONS of ENGLISH POETS.
Done by the Author in his Youth.
Yet swinken nat sans secrefie.
“ Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke, 25
Than trust on mon, whose yerde can talke,"
'The A L L E Y.
1. N ev'ry town, where Thamis rolls his tyde,
A narrow pass there is, with houses low; Where ever and anon the stream is ey’d, And many a boat soft sliding to and fro. There oft are heard the notes of infant-woe, 5 The short thick fob, loud scream, and shriller
squall : How can ye, mothers, vex your children so ? Some play, fome eat, fome cack against the wall, And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call,
11. And on the broken pavement, here and there, 10 Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie; A brandy and tobacco shop is near, And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by; And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry. At ev'ry door are sun-burnt matrons seen, 15 Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry; Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between; Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbourhood I ween.