Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth
Her venom'd tongue at me. Detefted foes!
Ye all are impotent against my peace,
For I am privileged, and bear my breaft
Safe, and too high, for your viperean wound.
But thou! my Father, fince to render thanks
Equivalent, and to requite by deeds
Thy liberality, exceeds my power,
Suffice it, that I thus record thy gifts,
And bear them treasured in a grateful mind!
Ye, too, the favourite paftime of my youth,
My voluntary numbers, if ye dare
To hope longevity, and to furvive
Your master's funeral, not foon absorb'd
In the oblivious Lethæan gulf,
Shall to futurity perhaps convey
This theme, and by these praises of
Improve the Fathers of a distant age!

my fire

TO SALSILLUS, A ROMAN POET,
MUCH INDISPOSED.

The original is written in a measure called Scazon, which fignifies limping, and the measure is so denominated, because, though in other respects Iambic, it terminates with a Spondee, and has, confequently, a more tardy movement.

The reader will immediately fee that this property of the Latin verse cannot be imitated in English.

Y halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice along

Thy flow, flow step, in melancholy fong,

And likeft that pace, expreffive of thy cares,
Not less than Deiopeia's fprightlier airs,

When in the dance fhe beats with measured tread
Heaven's floor, in front of Juno's golden bed;
Salute Salfillus, who to verfe divine

Prefers, with partial love, fuch lays as mine. Thus writes that Milton, then, who, wafted o'er From his own neft on Albion's stormy fhore, Where Eurus, fierceft of the Æolian band, Sweeps with ungovern'd rage the blasted land, Of late to more ferene Aufonia came

To view her cities of illuftrious name,

Το prove, himself a witness of the truth,

How wife her elders, and how learn'd her youth. Much good, Salfillus! and a body free

From all disease, that Milton asks for thee,

Who now endureft the languor and the pains
That bile inflicts, diffused through all thy veins;
Relentless malady, not moved to spare

By thy fweet Roman voice and Lesbian air!
Health, Hebe's fifter, fent us from the fkies,
And thou, Apollo, whom all fickness flies,
Pythius, or Pæan, or what name divine
Soe'er thou choose, hafte, heal a priest of thine!
Ye groves of Faunus, and ye hills that melt
With vinous dews, where meek Evander dwelt!
If aught falubrious in your confines grow,
Strive which fhall fooneft heal your poet's woe,
That, render'd to the Mufe he loves, again
He may enchant the meadows with his ftrain.
Numa, reclined in everlasting ease

Amid the shade of dark embowering trees,
Viewing with eyes of unabated fire

His loved Ægeria, fhall that strain admire :
So foothed, the tumid Tiber shall revere
The tombs of kings, nor defolate the year,
Shall curb his waters with a friendly rein,
And guide them harmless, till they meet the main.

TO GIOVANNI BATTISTA MANSO,

MARQUIS OF VILLA.

Milton's Account of Manso.

Giovanni Battista Manfo, Marquis of Villa, is an Italian nobleman of the highest estimation among his countrymen, for genius, literature, and military accomplishments. To him Torquato Taffo addressed his Dialogues on Friendship, for he was much the friend of Taffo, who has alfo celebrated him among the other princes of his country, in his poem entitled, Gerusalemme Conquistata, book xx.

Fra cavalieri magnanimi, e cortefi,
Rifplende il Manfo.

During the Author's stay at Naples he received at the hands of the Marquis a thousand kind offices and civilities, and, defirous not to appear ungrateful, fent him this poem a short time before his departure from that city.

HESE verses also to thy praise, the Nine, Oh Manfo! happy in that theme, defign, For, Gallus and Mæcenas gone, they fee None fuch befides, or whom they love as thee ; And if my verse may give the meed of fame, Thine too fhall prove an everlasting name. Already fuch, it fhines in Taffo's page (For thou waft Taffo's friend) from age to age, And, next, the Mufe confign'd (not unaware How high the charge) Marino to thy care, Who, finging to the nymphs Adonis' praise, Boafts thee the patron of his copious lays.

To thee alone the poet would entrust
His latest vows, to thee alone his duft;
And thou with punctual piety hast paid,
In labour'd brafs, thy tribute to his shade.
Nor this contented thee- but left the
grave
Should aught absorb of theirs which thou couldst
All future ages thou haft deign'd to teach [fave,
The life, lot, genius, character of each,
Eloquent as the Carian fage, who, true
To his great theme, the life of Homer drew.

I, therefore, though a stranger youth, who come Chill'd by rude blasts that freeze my northern home, Thee dear to Clio, confident proclaim,

And thine, for Phoebus' fake, a deathlefs name.
Nor thou, fo kind, wilt view with scornful eye
A Muse scarce rear'd beneath our fullen fky,
Who fears not, indifcreet as fhe is young,
To feek in Latium hearers of her song.

We too, where Thames with his unfullied waves
The treffes of the blue-hair'd Ocean laves,
Hear oft by night, or, flumbering, seem to hear,
O'er his wide stream, the swan's voice warbling clear;
And we could boaft a Tityrus of yore

Who trod, a welcome gueft, your happy fhore.

Yes, dreary as we own our northern clime,
E'en we to Phœbus raife the polish'd rhyme,
We too ferve Phoebus; Phoebus has received
(If legends old may claim to be believed)
No fordid gifts from us, the golden ear,
The burnish'd apple, ruddieft of the year,
The fragrant crocus, and, to grace his fane,
Fair damfels chofen from the Druid train;