Herc est, iniqua (nescis?)
Hac, illa lingua nostra est,
Quæ, tortileis capillos,
Quæ, colla mollicella,
Venustula Neæræ,
Molli per astra versu,
Ultra Jovis calores,
Coelo invidente, vexit.
Qua, te meam salutem,
Quæ, te meamque vitam,
Animæ meæque florem,
Et te meos amores,
Et te meos lepores,
Et te meam Dionen,
Et te meam columbam,
Albamque turturillam,
Venere invidente, dixit.
[Quæ, te meam salutem &c.] Bonefonius thus distinguishes his mistress by a series of appeliative contrarieties : Salve melque meum, atque amaritudo; Otiumque meum, negotiumque; Meus phosphorus, hesperusque salve; Salve luxque mea, et meæ tenebræ ; Salve errorque meus, mensque portus; Salve spesque mea, et mei pavores ; Salve nilque meum, meumque totum: Sed quid pluribus? O ter, ampliusque, Salve tota Acharisque Pancharisque.
This tongue, thou know'st, has oft extoll'd Thy hair in shining ringlets roll'd,
Thine eyes with tender passion bright,
Thy swelling breast of purest white,
Thy taper neck of polish'd grace,
And all the beauties of thy face,
Beyond the lucid orbs above,
Beyond the starry throne of Jove;
Extoll'd them in such lofty lays!
That Gods with envy heard the praise.
Oft has it call'd thee ev'ry name
Which boundless rapture taught to frame;
My life! my joy! my soul's desire!
All that my wish cou'd e'er require!
My pretty Venus! and my love!
My gentle turtle! and my dove!
Till Cypria's self with envy heard
Each partial, each endearing word.
All hail! thou sweet-imbitter'd fair
My fondest ease,`my tenderest care;
My star of morn, my star of night,
At once my darkness, and my light;
My dreaded rock, my harbour dear;
My only hope, my only fear;
My nothing, yet my valued all:
But, oh! what further shall I call
My homely love, my beauteous bliss?
In one sweet word, hail, Pancharis!
An verò, an est id ipsum
Quod te juvat, superba,
Inferre vulnus illi,
Quam, læsione nullâ,
Formosa, posse nosti
Irâ tumere tantâ ;
Quin semper hos ocellos;
Quin semper hæc labella;
Et, qui sibi, salaceis,
Malum dedere, denteis,
Inter suos cruores
Balbutiens, recantet ?
O, vis superba formæ !
[Inter suos cruores, &c.] And again, how impassioned is the strain of the French poet:
Crois-tu le contraindre à se taire ?
Non, non, il brave en ce moment
Tous les maux que tu peux lui faire.
Viens, renouvelle son tourment:
Assailli des flèches brûlantes,
De ces dards perçans du baiser,
Il veut sur tes lèvres ardentes,
Il veut encore les aiguiser;
Et, chargé d'heureuses blessures,
Doux vestiges de volupté,
Essayer même au-lieu d'injures,
De nouveaux chants à ta beauté.
[O, vis, &.] Muretus has a similar expression :
O vis eximiæ superba formæ!
O tyrant pow'r of beauty's form!
Say, beauteous Tyrant ! dost delight
To wound this tongue in wanton spite ?
Because, alas! too well aware
That ev'ry wrong it yet could bear
Ne'er urg'd it once in angry strain
Of thy unkindness to complain;
But suff'ring patient all its harms,
Still wou'd it sing thy matchless charms!
Sing the soft lustre of thine eye!
Sing thy sweet lips of rosy dye!
Nay, still those guilty teeth 'twould sing!
Whence all its cruel mischiefs spring:
E'en now it lisps, in fault'ring lays,
While yet it bleeds, Neæra's praise.
Thus, beauteous Tyrant! you controul,
Thus sway my fond, enamour'd soul!
NON semper udum da mihi basium,
Nec juncta blandis sibila risibus,
Nec semper in meum recumbe
Implicitum, moribunda, collum.
Mensura rebus est sua dulcibus;
Ut quodque menteis suaviùs afficit,
Fastidium sic triste secum
Limite proximiore ducit.
Quum te rogabo ter tria basia;
Tu deme septum, nec nisi da duo,
[Mensura rebus est, &c] Shakespeare expresses the same thought in the fatherly reproof of the old Friar to Romeo : These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they meet, consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in its own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
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