Her curious hair; then thus, with eyes intent On her wing'd sons, her troubled thoughts does vent :

[aid!

"The strife is near! dear sons, your mother
This day must crown my beauty, or degrade.
And much I fear to whom this clown will give
The golden fruit: Juno, all men believe
To be the Graces' reverend nurse: to her
The gift of sceptres they assign: in war
A powerful goddess is Minerva deem'd :
But we alone are of no pow'r esteem'd.
Nor empires we, nor martial arms bestow :
Yet why without a cause thus fear we? Though
Minerva's spear we have not, we yet better
Are with our cæstus arin'd, sweet love's soft fetter,
Our cæstus: that our bow is, that our sting,
Which smart to women, but not death does bring."
Thus rosy-finger'd Venus on the way
To her attendant Cupids spake, whilst they,
With duteous words, their drooping mother cheer.
And now they reach'd the top of Ida; where
The youthful Paris, near Anaurus' head,
His father's sheep in flocks divided fed :
Here of his roving bulls he count doth keep,
And there he reckons o'er his well-fed sheep.
Low as his knee a mountain goat's rough hide
Hung from his shoulders, flagging by his side:
In's hand a neatherd's goad: such to the eye
(As slowly to his pipe's soft melody

He moves) appear'd the gentle Phrygian swain,
Tuning on's reed a sweet, though rural strain.
I' th' solitary stalls oft would he sit
Himself with songs delighting; and forget
The care both of his herds and flocks; the praise
Of Pan and Hermes subject of his lays,
(With shepherds most in use) whose sweeter note
No dog's rude howl, no bull's loud-bellowing throat,
Disturbs; but Echo only, that affords
An artless sound in unarticulate words.
His oxen, cloy'd with the rank grass, were laid,
Stretching their fat sides in the cooler shade;
Under th'umbrella of a spreading tree
Whilst he himself sat singing: but when he
Spy'd Hermes with the goddesses, afraid,
Upstarting, from their sight he would have made:
And (his sweet pipe among the bushes flung)
Abruptly clos'd his scarce commenced song.

To whom, amaz'd, thus Heaven's wing'd nuncius
spake :

"Cast away fear; a while thy flocks forsake,
Thou must in judgment sit, and freely tell
Which of the pow'rs in beauty does excel,
And to the fairest this fair fruit present."
Thus be: when Paris, with eyes mildly bent
In amorous glances, of their beauties took
Exact survey: which had the gracefull'st look,
The brightest eyes, whose neck the whitest skin,
Not leaving aught from head to heel unseen.
To whom Minerva first herself addrest,
Then, taking by the hand, these words express'd:
"Come hither, Paris! leave Jove's wife behind:
Nor Venus, president of nuptials, mind.
Pallas, of valour the directress, praise:
Entrusted with large rule and power, Fame says,
Thou govern'st Troy: me chief for form confess,
I'll make thee too its guardian in distress.
Comply, and 'gainst Bellona's dreadful harms
Secur'd, I'll teach thee the bold deeds of arms."
Thus Pallas courted him: she scarce had done,
When, with fair words and looks, Juno begun:

"If me the prize of beauty thou'lt assign,
The empire of all Asia shall be thine; [springs?
Slight wars, what good from thence to princes
Both valiant men and cowards stoop to kings.
Nor do Minerva's followers oft rise high,

But servants rather to Bellona die."
This glorious proffer stately Juno made.

But Venus (her large veil unloos'd) display'd
Her whiter bosom, nor at all was shy,
But did the honied chain of loves untic:
And (whilst to view she her fair breasts disclos'd)
Thus spake, her looks into sweet smiles dispos'd:
"Our beauty, wars forgot, our beauty prize,
And empires and the Asian lands despise.
We know not wars, nor use of shields can tell;
In beauty, women rather should excel;
For valour, I'll to thee a wife commend ;
'Stead of a throne fair Helen's bed ascend;
A spouse, thee Troy and Sparta shall behold."
Scarce had she ended, when the fruit of gold
To Venus, as her beauty's noble prize,
The swain presented; whence dire wars did rise;
Who in her hand as she the apple weigh'd,
Did Juno and Minerva thus upbraid:
"Yield me the victory, yield me, fair friends!
Beauty I lov'd, and beauty me attends:
Juno, they say thou gav'st the Graces life,
Yet they have all forsook thee in this strife;
Though thou to Mars and Vulcan mother art,
Nor Mars nor Vulcan did their aid impart;
Though this in flames, that glory in his spear,
Yet neither one nor other help'd thee here.
How thou bragg'dst too, who from no mother's
womb

But Jove's cleft skull, the birth of steel, didst come!
In armour how thy limbs are drest! how love
Thou shunn'st, and dost the toils of Mars approve!
Alike to peace and wedlock opposite.

Minerva know, that such for glorious fight
Are much unfit, whom by their limbs, none well,
Whether they men or women be, can tell."

Sad Pallas thus, proud of her victory,
She flouts, and her and Juno both puts by,
Whilst she the fatal prize of beauty won.

Inflam'd with love, hot in pursuit of one
To bim unknown; with inauspicious fate,
Men skill'd in architecture, Paris straight
To a dark wood conducts; where, in a trice,
Tall oaks are fell'd by Phereclus' advice,
Of ills the author, who before, to please
His fond king, ships had built; whilst for the seas
Paris does Ida change, and on the shore
With frequent pray'rs and sacrifice implore
His kind assistant, queen of marriage-vows;
Then the broad back of Hellespontus ploughs.
But sad presaging omens did appear:
Seas rising to the skies, did either Bear
Surround with a dark ring of clouds; whilst

through

The fair Achaian cities next appear'd. Men-breeding Phthia and Mycene, rear'd

Promis'd a wife, her sister, Helen nam'd,
For whom these troubles I thro' seas sustain'd.

Water'd by Erymanthus, he at last
Spies Sparta, lov'd Atrides' city, plac'd
Near clear Eurotas, with rare beauties grac'd :
Not far from whence, under a shady wood,
H' admiring saw how sweet Therapnæ stood.
For now but a short cut he had to sail,

Nor long was heard the dash of oars: they hale
The ship to shore, and with strong baulsers ty'd;
When Paris, with clear water purifi'd,
Upon his tiptoes lightly treads, for fear
His lovely feet he with the dust should smear,
Or going hastily, his hair, which flows
Beneath his hat, the winds should discompose.

By this, the stately buildings, drawing nigher, He views, the neighbouring temples that aspire, And city's splendour: where, with wond'ring eyes, The statue of their Pallas he espies,

All of pure gold; from which, his roving sight
Next Hyacinthus' image does invite,
The boy with whom Apollo us'd to play :
Whom, lest Latona should have rapt away,
(Displeas'd with Jove) the Amyclæans fear'd.
Phœbus, from envious Zephyr, who appear'd
His rival, could not yet secure the boy :
But Earth, t' appease the sad king's tears, his joy,
A flow'r produc'd; a flow'r, that deth proclaim
Of the once lovely youth the still-lov'd name.
Now near Atrides' court, before the gates,
Bright in celestial graces Paris waits.
Not Semele a youth so lovely bare:
(Your pardon, Bacchus' tho' Jove's son you are)
Such beauty did his looks irradiate.

But Helen the court doors unbolting straight,
When 'fore the hall the Trojan she had seen,
And throughly mark'd, kindly invites him in,
And seats him in a silver chair: her eyes,
Whilst on his looks she feeds, not satisfies.
First she suppos'd he Venus' sou might be,
Yet, when his quiver'd shafts she did not see,
She knew he was not Love; but by the shine
Of his bright looks thought him the god of wine.
At length her wonder in these words did break:
"Whence art, my guest? thy stock, thy country,
For majesty is printed in thy face: [speak;

And yet thou seem'st not of the Argive race.
Of sandy Pylos sure thou canst not be:
I know Antilochus, but know not thee.
Nor art of Phthia, which stout men doth breed :
I know all Eacus' renowned seed;
The glorious Peleus, and his warlike son,
Courteous Patroclus, and stout Telamon."
Thus Helen, curious to be satisfi'd,
Questions her guest; who fairly thus reply'd:
"If thou of Troy, in Phrygia's utmost bound,
By Neptune and Apollo walled round,
And of a king from Saturn sprung, who there
Now fortunately rules, didst ever hear,
His son am 1; and all within his sway,
To me, as chief next him, subjection pay.
From Dardanus am I descended, he
From Jove; where gods, immortal though they be,
Do oft serve mortals: who begirt our town
Round with a wall, a wall that ne'er shall down.
1 am, great queen! the judge of goddesses,
Whom, tho' displeas'd, I censur'd, and of these
The lovely Venus' beauty did prefer:
For which, in noble recompense, by her

Our nuptial rites; me nor my bed despise:
On what is known, insist we need not long,
Thy spouse from an unwarlike race is sprung:
Thou all the Grecian dames dost far outvie,
Beauteous thy looks are; theirs, their sex belie."
At this she fix'd on earth her lovely eyes,
And doubtful, paus'd awhile, at length replies :
"Your walls, my guest! by hands celestial

rais'd,

And pastures, where his herds Apollo graz’d,
I long to see: to Troy bear me away.
I'll follow thee, and Venus will obey;
Nor, there, will Menelaus' anger heed."
Thus Paris and the beauteous nymph agreed.
Now night, the ease of cares, the day quite

spent,

Sleep brought, suspended by the morn's ascent,
Of dreams the two gates opening: this of horn,
In which the gods' unerring truths are born:
T'other of ivory, whence cozening lies,
And vain delusions of false dreams arise.
When from Atrides' hospitable court
Paris thro' plough'd seas Helen does transport,
And in the gift of Venus proudly joy,
Bearing with speed the freight of war to Troy.
Hermione, soon as the morn appears,

To winds her torn veil casting, big with tears,
Her loss bewails; and from her chamber flying,
With grief distraught, thus to her maids spake,
crying:

"Whither without me is my mother filed?
Who lay with me last night in the same bed!
And with her own hand lock'd the chamber door!"
Thus spake she, weeping: all the maids deplore
With her their mistress' absence; yet assay
With these kind words her passion to allay:

"Why dost thou weep, sweet child! thy mother's gone,

But will return soon as she hears thy moan.
See, how thy tears have blubber'd thy fair cheeks!
Much weeping the divinest beauty breaks.
She 'mongst the virgins is but gone to play,
And, coming back, perhaps hath miss'd her way:
And in some flow'ry meadow doubtful stands;
Or, in Eurotas bath'd, sports on his sands."

The weeping child replies: "The hill, brook,
And fields, she knows; do not so idly talk! [walk,
The stars do sleep, yet on cold rocks she lies;
The stars awake, and yet she does not rise.
O my dear mother! where dost thou abide?
Upon what mountain's barren top reside?
Hath some wild beast, alas! thee wand'ring slain?
(Yet from Jove's royal blood wild beasts refrain)
Or, fall'n from some steep precipice, art laid,
An unregarded corse, in some dark shade?
And yet in ev'ry grove, at ev'ry tree,
Search have I made, but cannot meet with thee.
The woods we blame not then; nor do profound
Eurotas' gentle streams conceal thee drown'd:
For in deep floods the Naïades do use,
Nor e'er by them their lives do women lose."

Thus poor Hermione complaining wept, Then tow'rd her shoulder her head leaning, slept. (Sleep is Death's twin, and as the younger brother, In every thing doth imitate the other; Hence 'tis that women often, when they weep, O'ercharg'd with their own sorrows, fall asleep.)

When, in a dream, her mother (as she thought)
Seeing, she cries, vext, yet with fear distraught:
"From me disconsolate last night you fled,
And left me sleeping in my father's bed.
What hill, what mountain, have I left untrac'd?
To Venus' pleasing ties mak'st thou such haste?"
To whom fair Tyndaris this answer made:
"Daughter! tho' griev'd, me yet forbear t' upbraid:
That treacherous stranger, who the other day
Came hither, carried me by force away."
Thus she: at which out straight Hermione flies;
But finding not her mother, louder cries:

"Wing'd issue of th' inhabitants of air,
Ye birds! to Menelaus straight declare,
One, late arriving at the Spartan port,
Hath robb'd him of the glory of his court."
Thus to regardless winds did she complain,
Seeking her absent mother, but in vain.
Meantime, thro' Thracian towns and Helle's strait,
Paris arriv'd safe with his beauteous freight,
When from the castle, viewing on the shore
A new guest land, her hair Cassandra tore.
But Troy with open gates her welcome shows
To the returning author of her woes.

TO LIGURINUS.

HORAT. CARM. L. 4. OD. 10. PARAPHRASTICE.

CRUEL, and fair! when this soft down

(Thy youth's bloom) shall to bristles grow; And these fair curls thy shoulders crown,

Shall shed, or cover'd be with snow:
When those bright roses that adorn

Thy cheeks shall wither quite away,
And in thy glass (now made time's scorn)
Thou shalt thy changed face survey:
Then, ab, then! (sighing) thou'lt deplore
Thy ill-spent youth; and wish, in vain,
"Why had I not those thoughts before?
Or come not my first looks again?"

THE PENITENT MURDERER.
THEOCRIT. IDYL. 31.
Εἰς νίκρον Αδωνιν.

WHEN Venus saw Adonis dead,
His tresses soil'd, his colour fled,
She straight her winged Loves commands
To bring the cruel boar in bands.
They, the woods nimbly ranging, found
The pensive beast, and brought him bound:
This drags along the captiv'd foe,
That pricks him forward with his bow.
With trembling steps the boar drew nigh,
For he fear'd angry Venus' eye.

T whom thus she spake: "O thou the worst
Of all wild beasts, and most accurst!
Was't thou with wounding tusks didst tear
This whiter thigh? thou kill my dear?"
To whom the bear repli'd:
"I swear
By thyself, Venus, by thy dear,
By these my bonds, these hunters, I
Meant to thy love no injury:
But gazing on him, as some fair
Statue, unapt the flames to bear

Desire had kindled in my breast,
To kiss his naked thigh I prest;

And kissing, kill'd him: wherefore these,
These murd'ring tusks, doom as you please,
(For why, alas! teeth do I bear
That useless and enamour'd are?)
Or if a punishment too small
You yet think that, take lips and all.”

But Venus, pitying the beast,
Commands that straight he be releas'd;
Who to the woods ne'er went again,
But liv'd as one of Venus' train:
And coming one day near the fire,
Quench'd there the flames of his desire.

quick,

Carrion! be gone! lest thy smell make me sick."
Then in her breast thrice spitting, me askew
(Mumbling t herself) from head to foot doth view.
Such pride in her self-flatter'd beauty takes,
Whilst in derision mouths at me she makes.
This scorn my blood inflam'd, aud red I grew
With anger, like a rose new bath'd in dew.
She went away, and left me vex'd, to see
I should by such a huswife slighted be.

Say, shepherds! am I not a handsome lad?
Or bath some god transform'd, and lately made
M' another man? For once I'd a good face:
And that (as ivy trees) my beard did grace:
My locks like smallage 'bout my temples twin'd;
And my white front 'bove my black eye-brows
shin'd.

My eyes more lovely than Minerva's were,
Than curds my lips more soft, and sweeter far
My words than honey: play too, would you knew't,
I sweetly can on pipe, shalm, reed, and flute.
There's not a country lass but likes, as passes,
And loves me too: 'all but your city lasses,
Who, 'cause a shepherd, me without regard
(Forsooth!) pass by: alas! they never heard
How Bacchus on the plains did oxen tend,
And Venus to a shepherd's love did bend,
And his fat flocks on Phrygian mountains kept,
Or lov'd in woods, and for Adonis wept.
What was Endymion but a shepherd? whom
The Moon affected, and from Heaven would come
To lie whole nights on Latmus with the boy.
A shepherd (Rhea) too was once thy joy:
And, oh! how many 'scapes, Jove, didst thou make
From Juno's bed for a young shepherd's sake?
But Funica alone doth swains despise,
And 'bove those goddesses herself doth prize.
Venus no more thou with thy love may'st keep
In town or hill; alone thou now must sleep.

To gain a supper, thy shift (Philomuse!)
Is to vent lies, instead of truths, for news:
Thou know'st what Pacorus intends to do,
Cau'st count the German troops and Sarmats too.
The Dacian general's mandates dost profess
To know, and victories before the express.
How oft it rains in Egypt, thou as well,
And number of the Lybian fleet, can'st tell.
Whom Victor in the next Quinquatrian games
Cæsar will crown, thy knowing tongue proclaims...
Come, leave these shifts: thou this night (Philo-
muse)

Shalt sup with me; but, not a word of news.

ON AULUS, A POET-HATER.
MART. L. 8. EPIG. 63.

AULUS loves Thestius; him Alexis fires;
Perhaps he, too, our Hyacinth desires:
Go now, and doubt if poets he approves,
When the delights of poets Aulus loves!

ON LENTINUS,

BEING TROUBLED WITH AN AGUE.

MART. L. 12. EPIG. 17.

LENTINUS! thou dost nought but fume and fret,
To think thy ague will not leave thee yet.
Why it goes with thee; bathes as thou dost do,
Eats mushrooms, oysters, sweetbreads, wild boar
Oft drunk by thee with Falern wine is made, [too,
Nor Cacub drinks unless with snow allay'd:
Tumbles in roses daub'd with unctuous sweets,
Sleeps upon down between pure cambric sheets;
And when it thus well fares with thee, would'st thou
Have it to go unto poor Dama now?

TO PRISCUS.

MART. L. 8. EPIGR. 11.

WHY a rich wife (Priscus) I will not wed,
Ask'st thou ?—I would not have my wife, my head:
Husbands should have superiority;

So man and wife can only equal be.

ON HORACE, A POOR FELLOW.

MART. L. 4. EPIGR. 2.

HORACE alone, 'mongst all the company,
In a black gown the plays did lately see.
Whilst both the commons and the knights of Rome,
Senate, and Cæsar, all in white did come.
When straight it snow'd apace; so he the sight
Beheld as well as all the rest, in white.

ON A SWALLOW,

TORN IN PIECES BY HER FELlows.

MART. L. 5. Epig. 67.

WHEN for their winter homes the swallows made,
One 'gainst the custom in her old nest staid.
The rest at spring return'd, the crime perceive,
And the offending bird of life bercave.
Late yet she suffer'd, she deserv'd before,
But then when she in pieces Itys tore.

ΤΟ

APOLLO PURSUING DAPHNE.

AUSON.

THROW by thy bow, nor let thy shafts appear, She flies not thee, but does thy weapons fear.

DE EROTIO PUELLA.
MART. L. 5. EPIGR. 38.

SHE (who than down of aged swans more fair,
More soft was than Galasian lambkins are ;
More beauteous than those shells Lucrinus shows,
Or stones which Eurythræan waves disclose;
Smooth as the elephant's new polish'd tooth,
Whiter than lilies in their virgin growth,
Or snow new fallen; the colour of whose tresses
Outvy'd the German curls, or Bætic fleeces;
Whose breath the Pestan rosaries excell'd,
The honey in Hymættian hives distill'd,
Or chafed amber's scent: with whom conferr'd,
The phoenix was but thought a common bird)
She, she, in this new tomb yet warm, doth lie,
Whom the stern hand of cruel Destiny

In her sixth year, e'er quite expir'd, snatch'd hence,
And with her all my best joys: yet 'gainst all sense
Pætus persuades me not to grieve for her:
"Fie!" says he, (whilst his hair he seems to tear)
"Art not asham'd to mourn thus for a slave?
I have a wife laid newly in the grave,
Fair, rich, and noble, yet I live, you see!"
O what than Pætus can more hardy be?
No sorrow sure a heart like his can kill,
H' hath gain'd ten thousand pounds', yet he lives

ON MANCINUS,

A PRATING BRAGGART. MART. L. 4. Epig. 61.

[still.

THOU mad'st thy brags, that late to thee a friend
A hundered crowns did for a present send :
But four days since (when with the wits we met)
Thou saidst Pompilla too (or I forget)

1 By the death of his wife.

Gave thee a rich suit, worth a thousand more,
(Scarlet of Tyre, with gold embroider'd o'er)
And swor'st that madam Bassa sent thee late
Two em'rald rings, the lady Cælia, plate.
At coming forth, thou told'st me in my ear,
And yesterday, when at the play we were,
There fell to thee that morning, the best part
Of fourscore pounds per annum next thy heart.
What wrong have I, thy poor friend, done thee,
that
[chat,
Thou thus shouldst torture me? Leave, leave this
For pity's sake; or, if thou'lt not forbear,
Tell me then something that I'd gladly hear.