IDYL XXIX.

THE CAPRICIOUS FAIR.

THEY say, my dear, that wine and truth agree:
To speak truth in my cups beseemeth me.
And I will tell you all my secret thought;
You do not wholly love me as you ought.
All of my life-the half that is not fled,
Lives only in your form-the rest is dead.
Just as you will, my life is one delight,

Like that of gods, or glooms in thickest night.

How is it right to vex one loves you so?
Take my advice; you will hereafter know,
That I your elder taught you for the best,
And, to believe me, was your interest.

In one tree build one nest; so shall not creep
Some crawling mischief to disturb your sleep.

Y

See how you change about for ever now,
Never two days together on one bough.

And if one chance to praise your lovely face,
Him more than friend of three years proof you grace;

To him that loved you first you are as cold,
As to a mere acquaintance three days old.
But now you breathe of wantonness and pride;
Like should love like; in love be this your guide;
So do, and good renown you shall obtain,
And Love will never visit you with pain,
Who mortal hearts can easily subdue,
And made me, heart of iron, dote on you.
In all the changes of your fitful will,
Unchanged I live but in your kisses still.
Remember that you were last year, last week,

Younger than now: we grow old while we speak.
Wrinkles soon come; and Youth speeds on amain,
Wings on her shoulders, ne'er to come again:

We, slow-foot mortals, cannot overtake

Birds, or what else a winged passage make.

Take thought, and be more mild: to me, who burn

In love for you, a guileless love return,

That when your bloom of youthful beauty ends,

We may be time-enduring faithful friends.

But if you cast my words unto the wind,

Or piqued to anger murmur in your mind,
"Why dost thou trouble me?" I for thy sake,
And thy much scorn, myself will straight betake,
Where the gold apples their sweet fragrance spread,
To Cerberus, the keeper of the dead.

Then freed from love, and all its anxious pain,

E'en at thy call, I could not come again.

IDYL XXX.

THE DEATH OF ADONIS.

CYPRIS, when she saw Adonis
Cold and dead as any stone is,
All his dark hair out of trim,
And his fair cheek deadly dim,
Thither charged the Loves to lead
The cruel boar that did the deed.

And they, swiftly overflying

All the wood where he was lying,
Soon the hapless creature found,
And with cords securely bound.
One the captive dragged along,
Holding at its end the thong;
While another with his bow

Struck behind and made him go.