Or o'er his guileless front the ringlets bright (Those lips divine that even in silence know The friendly curtain of indulgent sleep Disclosed not yet his eyes' resistless sway, But from their silky veil there seemed to peep Some brilliant glances with a softened ray, Which o'er his features exquisitely play, And all his polished limbs suffuse with light. Thus through some narrow space the azure day Sudden its cheerful rays diffusing bright, Wide dart its lucid beams to gild the brow of night. His fatal arrows and celestial bow Beside the couch were negligently thrown, Could well proclaim him Beauty's cherished son; Speechless with awe, in transport strangely lost, Between amazement, fear, and ecstasy, Till from her trembling hand extinguished falls While ruin's hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls POVERTY THE HANDMAID OF PHILOSOPHY. (From his "Apology.") HE has even gone so far as to reproach me with my poverty,―a charge truly acceptable to a philosopher, and one to which I readily plead guilty. For Poverty has long been the handmaid of Philosophy; frugal, temperate, contented with little, eager for praise, averse from the things sought by wealth, safe in her ways, simple in her requirements, in her counsels a promoter of what is right. No one has she ever puffed up with pride, no one has she corrupted by the enjoyment of power, no one has she maddened with tyrannical ambition; for no pampering of the appetite or of the passions does she sigh, nor can she indulge it. But it is your fosterlings of wealth who are in the habit of perpetrating these disgraceful excesses, and others of a kindred nature. If you review all the greatest enormities that have been committed in the memory of mankind, you will not find a single poor man among the perpetrators; whilst, on the other hand, in the number of illustrious men hardly any of the rich are to be found. Poverty has nurtured from his very cradle every individual in whom we find anything to admire and commend,-Poverty, I say, she who in former ages was the foundress of all cities, the inventress of all arts, she who is guiltless of all offence, who is lavish of all glory, who has been honored with every praise among all nations. For this same Poverty it was that, among the Greeks, showed herself just in Aristides, humane in Phocion, resolute in Epaminondas, wise in Socrates, and eloquent in Homer. It was this same Poverty, too, that for the Roman people laid the very earliest foundations of their sway, and that offers sacrifice to the immortal gods in their behalf, with the ladle and the dish of clay, even to this day. If there were now sitting as judges at this trial C. Fabricius, Cneius Scipio, and Manius Curius, whose daughters, by reason of their poverty, went home to their husbands portioned at the public expense, carrying with them the glories of their family and the money of the public; if Publicola,* the expeller of the kings, and Agrippa,† the reconciler of the people, the expense of whose funeral was, in consequence of their limited fortunes, defrayed by the Roman people, by contributions of the smallest coins; if Atilius Regulus, whose little field was, in consequence of a like poverty, cultivated at the public expense; if, in fine, all those ancient families, ennobled by consulships, censorships, and triumphs, could obtain a short respite, and return to light, and take part in this trial, would you then have dared to reproach a philosopher for his poverty, in the presence of so many consuls distinguished for theirs?... I could, indeed, raise an argument with you about the very name itself, and I could show that none of us are poor who do not wish for superfluities, and who possess the things which are necessary, which, by nature, are but few indeed. For he has the most who desires the least; he who wants but little is most likely to have as much as he wants. It is with the mind just as it is with the body: in a healthy state it is lightly clad, but in sickness it is wrapped in cumbrous clothing; and it is a sure sign of infirmity to have many wants. It is with life just as with swimming: the man is the most expert who is the most disengaged from all encumbrances. For my part, I have learned that in this especially the gods surpass mankind, that they have to satisfy no necessities. Hence it is that I consider him among us who has the fewest possible necessities most strongly to resemble a god. * On the death of L. Junius Brutus in the year 508 B.C., after the expulsion of the kings, C. Valerius was appointed consul in his stead. He introduced a special decree by which royal rule was forever interdicted at Rome. For his patriotism he was awarded the surname Publicola or Poplicola, "server of the people." + Menenius Agrippa, after the withdrawal of the plebeians to the Sacred Mount, in 494 B.C., induced them to return by reciting the fable of "The Belly and the Members." Atilius Regulus was the leader of an unsuccessful expedition against Carthage in 256 B.C, He was captured by the Carthaginians and is said to have been put to death by them for refusing to persuade his countryman to make peace. THE VIGIL OF VENUS. SPRING, as the season of love and flowers, is celebrated in this beautiful anonymous poem for the eve of a festival (probably April 1-3) in honor of Venus. From some grammatical peculiarities in the Latin, critics have decided that it cannot have been composed earlier than the latter half of the second century, and may even be a century later. The following English version of the "Pervigilium Veneris" is by Thomas Parnell (1679–1717), and there was an earlier one (1651) by Thomas Stanley (1625-1678). LET those love now, who never loved before; And those who always loved, now love the more. The spring, the new, the warbling spring appears, Let those love now, who never loved before; Let those love now, who never loved before; She paints the purple year with varied show, When gath'ring damps the misty nights diffuse, Let those love now, who never loved before; Now fair Dione to the myrtle grove Sends the gay Nymphs, and sends her tender love. And shall they venture? Is it safe to go, While nymphs have hearts and Cupid wears a bow? He walks unarmed and undesiring ills; And yet, ye nymphs, beware, his eyes have charms; Let those love now, who never loved before; From Venus' bower to Delia's* lodge repairs * Diana is called Delia because born in the island of Delos. |