And mingle the sweet word ye call in vain With that ye pour!
And bring to me her wreath of yesterday That's dank with myrrh;HESTERNAE ROSAE, ah my friends, but they Remember her!
Lo the kind roses, loved of lovers, weep As who repine, For if on any breast they see her sleep It is not mine!
THE PROPHET.
(Antiphilus.)
I knew it in your childish grace The dawning of Desire, 'Who lives,' I said, 'will see that face Set all the world on fire!'
They mocked; but Time has brought to pass The saying over-true;Prophet and martyr now, alas, I burn for Truth, - and you!
LAIS.
(Pompeius.)
Lais that bloomed for all the world's delight, Crowned with all love lilies, the fair and dear, Sleeps the predestined sleep, nor knows the flight Of Helios, the gold-reined charioteer:
Revel, and kiss, and love, and hate, one Night Darkens, that never lamp of Love may cheer!
CLEARISTA.
(Meleager.)
For Death, not for Love, hast thou Loosened thy zone!
Flutes filled thy bower but now, Morning brings moan!
Maids round thy bridal bed Hushed are in gloom, Torches to Love that led Light to the tomb!
THE FISHERMAN'S TOMB.
(Leonidas of Tarentum.)
Theris the Old, the waves that harvested More keen than birds that labour in the sea, With spear and net, by shore and rocky bed, Not with the well-manned galley laboured he;Him not the star of storms, nor sudden sweep Of wind with all his years hath smitten and bent, But in his hut of reeds he fell asleep, As fades a lamp when all the oil is spent:
This tomb nor wife nor children raised, but we His fellow-toilers, fishers of the sea.
OF HIS DEATH.
(Meleager.)
Ah Love, my Master, hear me swear By all the locks of Timo's hair, By Demo, and that fragrant spell Wherewith her body doth enchant Such dreams as drowsy lovers haunt, By Ilias' mirth delectable.
And by the lamp that sheds his light On love and lovers all the night, By those, ah Love, I swear that thou Hast left me but one breath, and now Upon my lips it fluttereth, Yet THIS I'll yield, my latest breath, Even this, oh Love, for thee to Death!
RHODOPE.
(Rufinus.)
Thou hast Hera's eyes, thou hast Pallas' hands, And the feet of the Queen of the yellow sands, Thou hast beautiful Aphrodite's breast, Thou art made of each goddess's loveliest!
Happy is he who sees thy face, Happy who hears thy words of grace, And he that shall kiss thee is half divine, But a god who shall win that heart of thine!
TO A GIRL.
(Asclepiades.)
Believe me, love, it is not good To hoard a mortal maidenhood;In Hades thou wilt never find, Maiden, a lover to thy mind;Love's for the living! presently Ashes and dust in death are we!
TO THE SHIPS.
(Meleager.)
O gentle ships that skim the seas, And cleave the strait where Helle fell, Catch in your sails the Northern breeze, And speed to Cos, where she doth dwell, My Love, and see you greet her well!
And if she looks across the blue, Speak, gentle ships, and tell her true, 'He comes, for Love hath brought him back, No sailor, on the landward tack.'
If thus, oh gentle ships, ye do, Then may ye win the fairest gales, And swifter speed across the blue, While Zeus breathes friendly on your sails.
A LATE CONVERT.
(Paulus Silentiarius.)
I that in youth had never been The servant of the Paphian Queen, I that in youth had never felt The shafts of Eros pierce and melt, Cypris! in later age, half grey, I bow the neck to THEE to-day.
Pallas, that was my lady, thou Dost more triumphant vanquish now, Than when thou gained'st, over seas, The apple of the Hesperides.
THE LIMIT OF LIFE.
Thirty-six is the term that the prophets assign, And the students of stars to the years that are mine;Nay, let thirty suffice, for the man who hath passed Thirty years is a Nestor, and HE died at last!
TO DANIEL ELZEVIR.
(From the Latin of Menage.)
What do I see! Oh gods divine And goddesses, - this Book of mine, -This child of many hopes and fears, -Is published by the Elzevirs!
Oh perfect Publishers complete!
Oh dainty volume, new and neat!
The Paper doth outshine the snow, The Print is blacker than the crow, The Title-Page, with crimson bright, The vellum cover smooth and white, All sorts of readers do invite, Ay, and will keep them reading still, Against their will, or with their will!
Thus what of grace the Rhymes may lack The Publisher has given them back, As Milliners adorn the fair Whose charms are something skimp and spare.
Oh DULCE DECUS, Elzevirs!
The pride of dead and dawning years, How can a poet best repay The debt he owes your House to-day?
May this round world, while aught endures, Applaud, and buy, these books of yours!
May purchasers incessant pop, My Elzevirs, within your shop, And learned bards salute, with cheers, The volumes of the Elzevirs, Till your renown fills earth and sky, Till men forget the Stephani, And all that Aldus wrought, and all Turnebus sold in shop or stall, While still may Fate's (and Binders') shears Respect, and spare, the Elzevirs!
THE LAST CHANCE.
Within the streams, Pausanias saith, That down Cocytus valley flow, Girdling the grey domain of Death, The spectral fishes come and go;The ghosts of trout flit to and fro.
Persephone, fulfil my wish, And grant that in the shades below My ghost may land the ghosts of fish.
[Greek text which cannot be reproduced]
L. C.
