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Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,
While the still morn went out with sandals gray,
He touched the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,
And now was dropped into the western bay;
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue.
To morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new



["Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa," rendered almost word for word without rhyme, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit.]

WHAT slender youth, bedewed with liquid odours,
Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,
Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,

Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he
On faith and changed gods complain, and seas
Rough with black winds and storms
Unwonted shall admire!

Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold;
Who always vacant, always amiable,
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful. Hapless they

To whom thou untried seem'st fair. Me in my vowed
Picture the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds

To the stern god of sea.


Horatius ex Pyrrhæ illecebris tanquam è naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, affirmat esse miseros.

QUIS multa gracilis te puer in rosa
Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus,
Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?

Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex munditiis? heu quoties fidem
Mutatosque deos flebit, et aspera
Nigris æquora ventis

Emirabitur insolens!

Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
Qui semper vacuam semper amabilem
Sperat, nescius auræ

Fallacis. Miseri quibus

Intentata nites. Me tabula sacer
Votiva paries indicat uvida

Suspendisse potenti
Vestimenta maris Deo.




you have thrown off your prelate lord,
And with stiff vows renounced his liturgy,
To seize the widowed whore Plurality
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred,
Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword

To force our consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic hierarchy
Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford?
Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul,
Must now be named and printed heretics

By shallow Edwards' and Scotch what d'ye call:2

1 The author of the Gangræna (published in 1646), or "a Catalogue and Discovery of many of the errors, heresies, and blasphemies, and pernicious practices of the sectaries of this time, vented and acted in England in these four last years."-Thyer.

2 Possibly the famous Alexander Henderson, or George Gillespie, a Scotch minister and commissioner at Westminster.-Newton.

But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing worse than those of Trent, That so the Parliament May, with their wholesome and preventive shears, Clip your phylacteries, though bauk your ears,1 And succour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large.

1 He alludes to Prynne, who had been sentenced to have his ears cropped, and was afterwards sentenced to lose the rest of them.




O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love; oh, if Jove's will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate

Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; As though from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:

Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.


DONNA leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,
Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora
De sui atti soavi giamai parco,

E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco,
La onde l'alta tua virtu s' infiora.

Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti

Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi


L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
Grazia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti
Che 'l disio amoroso al cuor s' invecchi


QUAL in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella

Va bagnando l' herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,

Cosi Amor meco insù la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso,
E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno.
Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso
Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh! foss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.


RIDONSI donne e giovani amorosi
M'accostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi,
Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana
Verseggiando d' amor, e come t'osi?
Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana,
E de pensieri lo miglior t' arrivi;
Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi
Altri lidi t'aspettan, et altre onde
Nelle cui verdi sponde

Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma
L'immortal guiderdon d'eterne frondi;
Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma?
Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi
Dice mia Donna, e 'l suo dir, e il mio cuore
Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore.


DIODATI, e te'l dirò con maraviglia,

Quel ritroso io ch' amor spreggiar soléa
E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridéa

Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s' impiglia.

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