nec formas astare hominum sed torva leonum corpora conspexi, pleno sub lumine lunae, excubias agere et clausas obsidere portas. emicui in scalas audax, cumbaque relicta nitor in adversum: destricto protinus ense ante foris aderam. subito fervore leones arrectisque exstare iubis, ceu surgit in arma bellipotens, umerumque uncis iam prendere utrimque unguibus horrendo stantis discrimine leti.

E. D. A. M.

CXXVII

Vos, fluvii, genus antiquum, silvaeque vetustae,
quas trepido celebrat vocalis turba susurro ;
vos, iuga, vos, Tempe, festo laetantia ritu
quae cultum induitis-ventique et nubila caeli,
tuque mari tellus nimboso foedere nupta,

et superum dono terris quaecumque novatis
vivida luxuriat proles, matremque salutat:

hoc ego nunc quodcumque hilaris coniungere cantus vestro aveo, brumae perpessus et ipse furores qui tempestates animi diramque ruinam evasi incolumis. me, me genitabilis aura leniter afflavit, me ver recreavit amicum spesque novas addit, vitalia semina, menti. has ergo institui praesenti exsolvere divo, quisquis is est, lacrimas, qui me caligine dira -etsi nec sensum retegit, nec cernitur ullivere novo exemptum dulcis eduxit in auras. proinde ego-nam me hoc scire sinit-pars ipse catervae argutae modulor cantu quas flumina voces

una edunt volucrumque genus, montesque loquuntur.

CXXVIII

I love, and he loves me again,

Yet dare I not tell who:

For if the nymphs should know my swain,
I fear they'd love him too :

Yet if it be not known,

The pleasure is as good as none,

For that's a narrow joy is but our own.

He is, if they can find him, fair,
And fresh and fragrant too,
As summer's sky, or purged air,
And looks as lilies do

That are this morning blown :

Yet, yet I doubt he is not known,

And fear much more, that more of him be shown.

JONSON.

CXXIX

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage ;
Incertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time.
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,
Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rime,
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes :

And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.

SHAKESPEARE.

CXXVIII

Urit me meus uriturque amator.
quis sit, quaeritis? est timor fateri.
nam desiderium meum puellae
si norint, scio, iam volent, amabunt.
sin celatus erit, peribit omnis
fructus: nam leve gaudium est quod uni
adsertum vacat, alteri tegetur.

at pulcher, quibus invenire fas est,
et fragrans vegetusque, ut albus aether,
aestas cum calet, utve purus aer.
tum ceu candida mane liliorum

haec illi est facies: neque hunc latere confido tamen, et magis verebor

dantem pluribus et sui profusum.

R. E.

CXXIX

Non mea, non populi timidae praesagia mentis rerum venturas vaticinata vices,

tempus amicitiae poterunt iam ponere nostrae, quam modo clausuri carcer et uncus erant. luna laborando defecit, et irrita vertunt

omina terrifici quae cecinere senes. anxia iam festis, curae cessere coronis,

pacis inexhaustos ducit oliva dies.

nunc viret ambrosiae liquidis sub roribus horae noster amor, cedit nunc Libitina mihi; in tenui hoc versu vivam, dum quamlibet illa saevit in elinguis ac sine voce tribus; aeternumque tui monumentum hoc stabit, amice, cum tumidis regum molibus aera cadent.

CXXX

Cor. Come leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast

With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd
To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear;
That when the sea was calm all boats alike
Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,
When most struck home, being gentle, wounded, craves
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me

With precepts that would make invincible

The heart that conn'd them.

Vir. O heavens! O heavens !

Cor.

Nay, I prithee, woman,

Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish!

Cor.

What, what, what!

I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,

Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd
Your husband so much sweat.

SHAKESPEARE.

CXXX

Κ. Γόους ἔα καὶ χαῖρε κεροτυπούμενος ἑκατογκαράνῳ κνωδάλῳ μεθίσταμαι

ποῦ δ ̓ ἐστί, μῆτερ, ἡ πάροιθ ̓ εὐψυχία,
ᾗ πρόσθε βάσανον τἄσχατ' ηὔδησας φρενών,
τυχόντα τοὺς τυχόντας ἀνθρώπους φέρειν,
κἄν του γαλήνῃ πάντα πρυμνήτην σοφόν
εἰ δ ̓ ἐκ τύχης τις καιρίαν βεβλημένος
πληγὴν ἔπειτα μηδὲ καὶ τετρωμένος
ἐξηγρίωται, τοῦτο γενναίας τέχνης"
τοσαῦτα δ ̓ ὕμνεις πρὸς φρενὸς κατάστασιν
ὥστ ̓, εἰ μάθοι τις, παντὸς ἂν κρατεῖν κακοῦ.
Γ. ἢ ταῦτ ̓ ἀκούετ ̓, ὦ θεῶν ὁμιλία;

Κ. στέργειν, γύναι, χρή, μηδὲ λυπεῖσθαι λίαν.
Μ. ἀλλ ̓ ἐγκατασκήψασ ̓ ἀϊστώσαι νόσος

ὅσας τις ἀσκεῖ κατὰ πόλιν χειρουργίας.

Κ. εἶεν φίλος γὰρ οὐ παρὼν γενήσομαι.

ἀλλ ̓ εἴθε, μῆτερ, ταὔτ ̓ ἔχοις φρονήματα
καὶ πρόσθ ̓, ὅτ ̓ ἔλεγες εἴ ποθ' Ηρακλέους δάμαρ
ἦσθ', ἀνδρὸς ἐκπονεῖν ἂν ἐξ τλῆναι πόνους

ἵν ̓ αὐτὸς ἧσσον ἀπέκαμεν μοχθῶν τόσον.