Filling the fordid hovel where he lies;

The hymning Angels, and the herald star,
That led the Wife, who fought him from afar,
And idols on their own unhallow'd shore
Dash'd, at his birth, to be revered no more.

This theme on reeds of Albion I rehearse:
The dawn of that bleft day inspired the verse;
Verse that, reserved in fecret, fhall attend
Thy candid voice, my critic, and my friend!

ELEGY VII.

Compofed in the Author's Nineteenth Year.

S yet a ftranger to the gentle fires
That Amathufia's fmiling queen inspires,
Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts,

And fcorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts.
"Go, child," I faid, "transfix the timorous dove!
An eafy conquest suits an infant love;
Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall be
Sufficient triumph to a chief like thee!
Why aim thy idle arms at human kind?
Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind."
The Cyprian heard, and kindling into ire,
(None kindles fooner) burn'd with double fire.
It was the spring, and newly risen day
Peep'd o'er the hamlets on the first of May;
My eyes, too tender for the blaze of light,
Still fought the shelter of retiring night,

When Love approach'd, in painted plumes array'd,
The infidious god his rattling darts betray'd,
Nor less his infant features, and the fly,
Sweet intimations of his threatening eye.
Such the Sigeian boy is seen above,
Filling the goblet for imperial Jove;
Such he on whom the nymphs bestow'd their
charms,

Hylas, who perish'd in a Naiad's arms.
Angry he seem'd, yet graceful in his ire,

And added threats not deftitute of fire.

My power," he said, " by others' pain alone,
"Twere best to learn; now learn it by thy own!
With those who feel my power, that power atteft!
And in thy anguish be my fway confeft!

I vanquish'd Phoebus, though returning vain
From his new triumph o'er the Python flain,
And when he thinks on Daphne, even he
Will yield the prize of archery to me.
A dart less true the Parthian horseman sped,
Behind him kill'd, and conquer'd as he fled:
Lefs true the expert Cydonian, and less true
The youth whofe fhaft his latent Procris flew.
Vanquish'd by me fee huge Orion bend,
By me Alcides, and Alcides' friend.

At me should Jove himself a bolt defign,
His bofom first should bleed transfix'd by mine.
But all thy doubts this shaft will best explain,
Nor shall it reach thee with a trivial pain.
Thy Muse, vain youth! fhall not thy peace enfure,
Nor Phœbus' ferpent yield thy wound a cure."
He spoke, and, waving a bright shaft in air,

Sought the warm bofom of the Cyprian fair.

That thus a child should bluster in my ear, Provoked my laughter more than moved my fear. I shunn'd not, therefore, public haunts, but stray'd Careless in city or suburban shade,

And, paffing and repaffing nymphs that moved
With grace divine, beheld where'er I roved.
Bright fhone the vernal day with double blaze
As beauty gave new force to Phœbus' rays.
By no grave fcruples check'd, I freely eyed
The dangerous fhow, rafh youth my only guide,
And many a look of many a fair unknown
Met full, unable to control my own.
But one I mark'd (then peace forfook
my breast),
One--Oh how far fuperior to the rest!
What lovely features! fuch the Cyprian queen
Herfelf might wish, and Juno with her mien.
The very nymph was she, whom, when I dared
His arrows, Love had even then prepared!
Nor was himself remote, nor unsupplied
With torch well trimm'd and quiver at his side;
Now to her lips he clung, her eyelids now,
Then fettled on her cheeks, or on her brow;
And with a thoufand wounds from every part
Pierced and tranfpierced my undefended heart.
A fever, new to me, of fierce defire
Now seized my foul, and I was all on fire;
But fhe, the while, whom only I adore,
Was gone, and vanish'd, to appear no more.
In filent sadness I pursue my way;

I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay,
And, while I follow her in thought, bemoan
With tears my foul's delight fo quickly flown.

When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast, So Vulcan forrow'd for Olympus loft,

And fo Oeclides, finking into night,

From the deep gulf look'd up to distant light.
Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remain,
Who cannot cease to love, yet love in vain?
Oh could I once, once more behold the fair,
Speak to her, tell her of the pangs I bear;
Perhaps she is not adamant; would show,
Perhaps, fome pity at my tale of woe.
Oh inauspicious flame !-'tis mine to prove
A matchlefs inftance of disastrous love.
Ah, spare me, gentle power!-If such thou be,
Let not thy deeds and nature disagree.
Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine
With vow and facrifice fave only thine.
Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts:
Now own thee sovereign of all human hearts.
Remove! no-grant me still this raging woe!
Sweet is the wretchedness that lovers know:
But pierce hereafter (should I chance to fee
One destined mine) at once both her and me.
Such were the trophies that, in earlier days,
By vanity feduced, I toil'd to raise;

Studious, yet indolent, and urged by youth,
That worst of teachers! from the ways of truth;
Till Learning taught me in his shady bower
To quit Love's fervile yoke, and spurn his power.
Then, on a fudden, the fierce flame fuppreft,
A frost continual settled on my breast,

Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see,
And Venus dreads a Diomede in me.

EPIGRAMS.

ON THE INVENTOR OF GUNS.

RAISE in old times the fage Prometheus

won,

Who ftole ethereal radiance from the fun; But greater he, whofe bold invention ftrove To emulate the fiery bolts of Jove.

[The Poems on the fubject of the Gunpowder Treason I have not tranflated, both because the matter of them is unpleasant, and because they are written with an afperity, which, however it might be warranted in Milton's day, would be extremely unfeafonable now.]

TO LEONORA SINGING AT ROME.*

NOTHER Leonora once infpired

Taffo, with fatal love to frenzy fired; But how much happier, lived he now, were he,

Pierced with whatever pangs for love of thee! Since could he hear that heavenly voice of thine,

* I have translated only two of the three poetical compliments addreffed to Leonora, as they appear to me far fuperior to what I have omitted.