[Beginning of poem illustration]

ECLOGUE III.
TO THE LADY MARIA DE LA CUEVA, COUNTESS OF UREÑA.

TYRRENO. ALCINO.

The pure ambition and sincere desire,
Most beautiful Señora, that whilere
Was wont my soul in secret to inspire,
To sing thy beauty, wit, and virtue rare,
Spite of strong Fortune, that unstrings my lyre,
And turns to other paths my steps of care,
Glows, and shall glow within me, whilst the flame
Of soul lights up this perishable frame.
I fancy even, that after life this flow
Of song shall live; that when my heart grows chill,
And my lips cease to call, in joy or woe,
Eolian murmurs to my pastoral quill,
Freed from its narrow cell my ghost shall go
O'er the dark river, celebrating still
Thy glorious name, and curbing with the sound
Oblivion's waters, slowly stealing round.
But Fate, not satisfied with crossing, rives me
From every good; grief but to grief gives place;
Now from my country, from my love she drives me,
Now proves my patience in a thousand ways;
But what I feel more, is that she deprives me
Of these fond papers where my pen thy praise
Inscribes, and in their room nought, nought supp'ies
But fruitless cares and mournful memories.
Yet, let her try her utmost force, my heart
She shall not change; the world shall never say
She moves me to forsake so sweet an art;
In poesy's still walks, embowered with bay,
Apollo and the Nine shall yet impart
Leisure, and life, and language, to display
The least of thine accomplishments, the most
My feeble powers can ever hope to boast.
Let it not irk thee if I sing meanwhile
The scenes and sylvans thou hast loved, nor deem
Ill of this untrimmed portion of my style,
Which once thy goodness held in kind esteem;
Midst arms—with scarce one pause from bloody toil,
Where war's hoarse trumpet breaks the poet's dream,
Have I these moments stolen, oft claimed again,
Now taking up the sword, and now the pen.
To the wild music of my oaten reed
Listen thou then, though, naked and ungraced
With ornamental touches, it indeed
Is all unmeet to strike thine ear of taste;
But oft pure thoughts from artless lips succeed,
Chaste witnesses of sentiments as chaste,
To win the will, and pleasure more impart
Than all the' elaborate eloquence of art.
I, for this cause, though others failed my theme,
Merit thine ear; the gift which at thy feet
I cast, receive with favour; I shall deem
Myself, sweet friend, enriched by the receipt.
Of four choice Nymphs that from loved Tagus' stream
Proceed, I sing; Phyllodoce the sweet,
Dynamene, fair Clymene, and last,
Nyse, in loveliness by none surpassed.
In a sweet solitude beside the flood,
Is a green grove of willows, trunk-entwined
With ivies climbing to the top, whose hood
Of glossy leaves, with all its boughs combined,
So interchains and canopies the wood,
That the hot sunbeams can no access find;
The water bathes the mead, the flowers around
It glads, and charms the ear with its sweet sound.
The glassy river here so smoothly slid
With pace so gentle on its winding road,
The eye, in sweet perplexity misled,
Could scarcely tell which way the current flowed.
Combing her locks of gold, a Nymph her head
Raised from the water where she made abode,
And as the various landscape she surveyed,
Saw this green meadow, full of flowers and shade.
That wood, the flowery turf, the winds that wide
Diffused its fragrance, filled her with delight;
Birds of all hues in the fresh bowers she spied,
Retired, and resting from their weary flight.
It was the hour when hot the sunbeams dried
Earth's spirit up—'twas noontide still as night;
Alone, at times, as of o'erbrooding bees
Mellifluous murmurs sounded from the trees.
Having a long time lingered to behold
The shady place, in meditative mood,
She waved aside her flowing locks of gold,
Dived to the bottom of the crystal flood,
And when to her sweet sisters she had told
The charming coolness of this vernal wood,
Prayed and advised them, to its green retreat
To take their tasks, and pass the hours of heat.
She had not long to sue,—the lovely three
Took up their work, and looking forth descried,
Peopled with violets, the sequestered lea,
And toward it hastened: swimming, they divide
The clear glass, wantoning in sportful glee
Through the smooth wave; till, issuing from the tide,
Their white feet dripping to the sands they yield,
And touch the border of that verdant field.
Pressing the' elastic moss with graceful tread,
They wrung the moisture from their shining hair,
Which, shaken loose, entirely overspread
Their beauteous shoulders and white bosoms bare;
Then, drawing forth rich webs whose spangled thread
Might in fine beauty with themselves compare,
They sought the shadiest covert of the grove,
And sat them down, conversing as they wove.
Their woof was of the gold which Tagus brings
From the proud mountains in his flow divine,
Well sifted from the sands wherewith it springs,
Of all admixture purified and fine;
And of the green flax fashioned into strings,
Subtile and lithe to follow and combine
With the bright vein of gold, by force of fire
Already drawn into resplendent wire.
The subtile yarn their skill before had stained
With dyes pellucid as the brightest found
On the smooth shells of the blue sea, engrained
By sunbeams in their warm and radiant round:
Each nymph for skill in what her fingers feigned,
Equalled the works of painters most renowned,—
Apelles' Venus, or the famous piece
Wherein Timanthes veils the grief of Greece.
Phyllodoce, who of that beauteous band
Was for her majesty considered queen,
Had figured with a bold and dexterous hand
The river Strymon: on one side were seen
Green plains, on the reverse, a mountain grand
And savage, where no human foot had been,
Until the sweet, sad melodist of Thrace
Charmed with his lyre the' inhospitable place.
Beauteous Eurydice was pictured, stung
In her white foot by the small snake that lay
Collecting venom, closely coiled among
The herbs and flowers that blossomed in her way;
She was discoloured as the rose, yet young,
Plucked out of season, waning to decay:
And in her rolling eyes the soul divine
Seemed on the wing to quit its charming shrine.
Broidered at length the history was told
Of her fond lord; how, daring to descend
To the pale king of ghosts, by love made bold,
He the lost lady by his lyre regained;
How, mad once more her aspect to behold,
He turned, again to lose her, and arraigned—
Ever arraigned to mountain, cave, and spring,
The cruel terms, and unrelenting king.
Dynamene with no less skill and grace
Adorned the tale her fancy had designed;
She drew robust Apollo, to the chase
In echoing woods exclusively resigned;
But soon revengeful Love, reproached as base,
Changed the blythe scene; with grief Apollo pined;
The God had pierced him with his gold-tipt shaft,
And clapped his wings, and at his victim laughed.
Daphne with long dishevelled hair was hieing
So without pity to her tender feet,
O'er briers and rocks, that fond Apollo, sighing,
Seemed in the chase to move with steps less fleet,
For her sweet sake; he following, she still flying,
Thus the race held; he, flushed with amorous heat;
She, cold as though she froze beneath the dart
Of hatred lodged in her disdainful heart.
But at the last her arms increase and shoot
Into stiff boughs; those tresses turn to leaves,
That wont the palm of splendour to dispute
With the fine gold, whilst to the mountain cleaves
In thousand tortuous roots each lily foot;
Her frantic lover the swift change perceives;
Looks her late features in the tree to find,
And clasps and kisses the yet panting rind.
Blending the radiant threads and sparkling wire
With the most exquisite address and skill,
Of beeches, oaks, and caverns hung with brier,
Rapt Clymene pourtrayed a mighty hill,
Where ran a boar whose red eye darted fire,
With gnashing teeth—all eagerness to kill
A youth who in his hand a boar-spear shook,
Handsome in form, and spirited in look.
Anon the boar was dying of a wound
From the too valiant and adventurous youth,
And he himself lay stretched upon the ground,
Gored by the outrageous brute's avenging tooth;
His sunbeam-tinted tresses drooped unbound,
Sweeping the earth in negligence uncouth;
The white anemonies that near him blew
Felt his red blood, and red for ever grew.
This spoke the youth Adonis, and close by
Venus accordingly was seen to grieve;
Viewing the deep wound in his snowy thigh,
She o'er him hung, half dying, to receive,
Lip fondly pressed to lip, the last faint sigh
Of that sweet spirit that was wont to give
Life to the form for which, in blest accord,
She walked the world, and held high heaven abhorred.
White-bosomed Nyse took not for her theme
Memory of past catastrophes, nor twined
In her fine tissue aught that poets dream
In antique fable, for her heart inclined
To the renown of her dear native stream;
The glorious Tagus therefore she designed,
There where he blesses with his sinuous train
The happiest of all lands, delightful Spain!
Deep in a rocky valley was compressed
The wealthy river, winding almost round
A mountain, rushing with impetuous haste,
And roaring like a lion as it wound;
Mad for its prey, high flew its foaming crest;
But it was labour lost, and this it found;
For soon, contented with its wrack, the wave
Lost its resentment, and forgot to rave.
On the high mountain's airy head was placed
Of ancient towers a grand and glorious weight;
Here its bare bosom white-walled convents graced,
There castles frowned in old Arabian state;[9]
In windings grateful to the eye of taste,
Thence the smooth river, smilingly sedate,
Slid, comforting the gardens, woods, and flowers,
With the cool spray of artificial showers.
Elsewhere, the web, so richly figured o'er,
Showed the fair Dryads issuing from a wood,
With anxious haste all tending to the shore,
The grassy margin of the shaded flood;
In sable stoles, with aspect sad, they bore
Baskets of purple roses in the bud,
Lilies and violets, which they scattering poured
On a dead nymph whom deeply they deplored.
All with dishevelled hair were seen to shower
Tears o'er the nymph, whose beauty did bespeak
That death had cropt her in her sweetest flower,
Whilst youth bloomed rosiest in her charming cheek:
Near the still water, in a myrtle bower,
She lay amongst the green herbs, pale and meek,
Like a white swan that, sickening where it feeds,
Sighs its sweet life away amidst the reeds.
One of the Goddesses whose charms outshined
Her sisters, charming though they were, whose vest
Disordered, whose pale face, and eyes declined,
The deep affliction of her soul expressed,
Was duteously engraving on the rind
Of a fair poplar, separate from the rest,
The lovely nymph's memorial epitaph,
Which thus, deciphered, spoke on her behalf.
"Eliza I, whose name the vocal grove,
Whose name the mountain murmurs through its caves,
In faithful record of the grief and love
Of Nemoroso, as for me he raves,
Calling Eliza in loud shrieks that move
Responding Tagus, whose sonorous waves
Bear my name with them toward the Lusian sea,
Where heard, I trust, and reverenced it will be."
Last on this web, which we divine might deem,
Figured the history at full was found,
That on the banks of this romantic stream
Of Nemoroso was so far renowned;
For all sweet Nyse knew, and in his theme
Of sorrow took an interest so profound,
That as his exclamations reached her ears,
A thousand times she melted into tears.
And that the mournful theme might not avail
To be resounded in the woods alone,
But with o'ermastering tenderness prevail
Where'er in Tethys the blue wave is blown,
Therefore it was fond Nyse wished the tale
Of the lost nymph should in her web be shown,
And publish thus her beauty and his love
Through the moist kingdoms of Neptunian Jove.
With these fair scenes and classic histories
The webs of the four sisters were inlaid,
Which sweetly flushed with variegated dyes,
In clear obscure of sunshine and of shade,
Each figured object to observant eyes
In rich relief so naturally displayed,
That, like the birds deceived by Zeuxis' grapes,
It seemed the hand might grasp their swelling shapes.
But now the setting sun with farewell rays
Played on the purple mountains of the west,
And in the darkening skies gave vacant place
For Dian to display her silver crest;
The little fishes in her loving face
Leaped up, gay lashing with their tails the breast
Of the clear stream, when from their tasks the four
Arose, and arm in arm resought the shore.
Each in the tempered wave had dipt her foot,
And toward the water bowed her swanlike breast,
Down to their crystal hermitage to shoot,—
When suddenly sweet sounds their ears arrest,
Mellowed by distance, of the pipe or flute,
So that to listen they perforce were prest;
To the mild sounds wherewith the valleys ring,
Two shepherd youths alternate ditties sing.
Piping through that green willow wood they roam
Amidst their flocks, which, now that day is spent,
They to the distant folds drive slowly home,
Across the verdurous meadows, dew-besprent;
Whitening the dun shades, onward as they come,
Clear and more clear the fingered instrument
Sounds in accord with the melodious voice,
And cheers their task, and makes the woods rejoice.
These shepherd youths were wealthy of estate,
And skilled in singing above all that feed
Their flocks along the stream,—Tyrreno that,
Alcino this was named; their years agreed;
One was their taste; prepared now to debate
The palm of pastoral music they proceed;
In turn the voice, in turn the pipe they try,
One sings, and one makes apposite reply.

TYRRENO.

Oh gentle Flerida! more sweet to me
And flavourous than the grape, than milk more white,
And far more charming than a flower-filled lea,
When April paints the landscape with delight;
If the true love Tyrreno bears to thee
Thou dost with equal tenderness requite,
Thou to my fold wilt surely come, before
The reddening orient tells that night is o'er.

ALCINO.

Beautiful Phyllis, who so stern as thou!
May I to thee be bitterer than the broom,
And severed from thee, sorrow like the bough
Stript of its leaves before the tree's in bloom,
If the grey bat that flits around me now
More hates the light, and more desires the gloom,
Than I to see this day of anguish o'er,
To me much longer than a year before!

TYRRENO.

As Spring, attended by the laughing Hours,
After long storm is wont to reappear,
When the mild Zephyr, breathing through the bowers,
Brings back its former beauty to the year,
And goes enamelling the banks with flowers,
Blue, white, and red, all eyes and hearts to cheer;
So when returning Flerida is seen,
My heart too gladdens, and my hope grows green.

ALCINO.

Have ye the fury of the wind beheld,
When down the rough Sierra's crags it shoots,
How it hurls down the reverend rocks of eld,
And tears the quivering pines up by the roots,
Nor thus content, how with its pride upswelled,
It loudly with the frightful sea disputes?
Less fierce this rage is of the wind-borne Jove,
Than Phyllis angry at Alcino's love.

TYRRENO.

The vine and olive flourish; the green lea
Yields plenteous pasture for the flocks at morn;
Mountains the goats, the blossom feeds the bee,
And Ceres joys amidst the growing corn:
Where'er my Flerid looks, it seems to me
That generous Plenty pours forth all her horn;
But if she take away her smiling eyes,
The landscape weeps, and nought but briers arise.

ALCINO.

The field, the flock, with barrenness oppressed,
Pines fast away, each living thing conceives
Corruption, mildew—Ceres' fatal pest—
Poisons the grass and taints the wheaten sheaves;
The bird abandons its dismantled nest,
That was hedged in before with lively leaves;
But if sweet Phyllis chance to pass that way,
The flock revives, and all again looks gay.

TYRRENO.

For Daphne's laurel Phœbus gave his voice,
The towering poplar charmed stern Hercules,
The myrtle sweet, whose gifted flowers rejoice
Young hearts in love, did most warm Venus please;
The lithe green willow is my Flerid's choice,
She gathers it amidst a thousand trees:
Thus laurel, poplar, and sweet myrtle now,
Where'er it grows, shall to the willow bow.

ALCINO.

All know that in the woods the ash reigns queen,
In graceful beauty soaring to the sky,
And that in grandeur and thick shade the green
And lofty beech all sylvans does outvie;
But whoso sees the beauty of thy mien,
Thy comely shape and austere dignity,
Will own, fair Phyllis, that thy charms impeach
The ash's grace and grandeur of the beech.
Thus sang the youths in challenge and reply,
And having finished now their rural hymn,
With blythe attention to their charge apply,
Pacing with faster steps the pastures dim;
The Sisters, hearing now the rumour nigh,
Threw themselves forth into the stream to swim;
The shaded waves with froth were whitened o'er,
And murmurs spread along the silent shore.
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ELEGIES AND EPISTLES.

[Chapter Title page illustration]

ELEGY I.
TO THE DUKE OF ALVA,

ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER, DON BERNARDINO DE TOLEDO.

Although this heavy stroke has touched my soul
With such regret, that I myself require
Some friend my deep depression to console,
That my spent fancy may afresh respire;
Yet would I try, if chance the' Aonian choir
Give me the requisite assistance, just
To strike a little comfort from the lyre,
Thy frenzy to assuage, revive thy trust,
And raise once more thy head and honours from the dust.
At thy distress the pitying Muses weep;
For neither, as I hear, when suns arise,
Nor when they set, giv'st thou thy sorrows sleep,
Rather by brooding o'er them as one dies,
Creat'st another, with disordered eyes
Still weeping, that I fear to see thy mind
And spirit melt away in tears and sighs,
Like snows on hill-tops, which the rainy wind
Moaning dissolves away, and leaves no trace behind.
Or if by chance thy wearied thought finds rest
For a few moments in desired repose,
'Tis to return to grief with added zest;
In that short slumber thy poor brother shows
Pallid as when he swooned away in throes
From his sweet life, and thou, intent to lift
His dear delusive corse, dost but enclose
The vacant air; then Sleep revokes her gift,
And from thy waking eye the mimic form flies swift.
Yet cherishing the dream, with sense at strife,
Thyself no more, thou anxiously look'st round
For that beloved brother, who through life
The better portion of thy soul was found,
Which, dying, could not leave it wholly sound;
And thus, forlorn, distracted, dost thou go,
Invoking him in shrieks and groans profound,
How changed in aspect! hurrying to and fro,
As mad Lampecia erst beside the fatal Po.
With the like earnest exclamations, she
Her Phaëton bewailed; "wild waves, restore
My poor lost brother, if you would not see
Me too die, watering with my tears your shore!"
Oft, oh how oft, did she the stream implore!
How oft, revived by grief, her shrieks renew!
And oh, as oft, that active frenzy o'er,
Whispering, 'twas all she could, green earth adieu,
Pale on the poplar shore her faded foliage strew.
Yet, I confess, if any accident
In this for-ever shifting state should bend
The noble soul so loudly to lament,
It were the present, since a mournful end
Has thus deprived thee of so dear a friend,
(Not a mere brother) one who not alone
Shared thy deep counsels, taught thee to unbend,
And knew each secret that to thee was known;
But every shade of thought peculiarly thine own.
In him reposed thy honourable, discreet,
And wise opinions, used but as the case
Chimed with his own; in him were seen to meet
Thy every virtue, excellence, and grace,
With lovely light, as in a crystal vase
Or glassy column, whose transparence shows
All things reflected in its lucid face,—
Sunlight, gem, flower, the rainbow, and the rose,
Clear in its vivid depth plays, sparkles, smiles, or glows.
Oh the dark doom, the miserable lot
Of human life, that through such trouble flies!
One storm comes threatening ere the last's forgot,
Fast as one ill departs, severer rise;
Whom has not war snatched from our weeping eyes!
Whom has not toil worn out! who has not laved
In blood his foeman's sword! who not seen rise
A thousand times the phantom he has braved,
But by hair-breadth escapes miraculously saved!
To many, oh how many, will be lost
Home, son, wife, memory, undistracted brain,
And fortune unincumbered! of this cost,
What rich returns, what vestiges remain?
Fortune? 'tis nought; fame? glory? victory? gain?
Distinction? would'st thou know, our history read;
Thou wilt there find that our fatigue and pain,
Like dust upon the wind is driven with speed,
Long ere our bright designs successfully proceed.
Invidious Death oft from the unripe ear
Gathers the grain; but in this cruel turn,
Not satisfied with being but so severe,
Has neither spared his youth, nor our concern;
Who could have prophesied a stroke so stern!
Whom had not hope deceived, alas, to vow
That one so virtuous from the dreary urn
Was surely charmed by that ingenuous brow,
O'er which the furrowing years had not yet driven their plough!
Yet is it not his losses, but our own
That we should weep; remorseless Death has made
A thousand clear discoveries, he has shown
Long life a torment, joy a posting shade,
And youth, grace, beauty, gems but to be paid,
Poor Nature's tax, at his tyrannic shrine;
Yet could not Death so far thy form degrade,
But that, when life itself was past, each line
Should yet of beauty speak, and workmanship divine.
'Tis true, it was a beauty unattended
By the rose-hues which Nature with such skill
Had with the virgin lily's whiteness blended
During thy life; the Spoiler had turned chill
The flame that tempered its chaste snows, but still
'Twas beauty most emphatic! thou didst rest
Calm and composed, as though 'twas but thy will
To sleep; a smile upon thy lips impressed
Told of the life to come, and spoke thy spirit blest.
What will the mother of thy love do now,
Who loved thee as her soul? ah me, I hear
The sound of her laments! what shrieks avow
Her agony! shrieks ringing far and near,
Which thy four sisters echo back, whose drear
Distress augments her grief; I see them go,
Forlorn, distracted, scattering o'er thy bier
Of their long ravished locks the golden flow,
Outraging every charm in concord with her woe.
I see old Tormes, full of sad concern,
With his white choir of nymphs forsake the waves,
And water earth with tears; not o'er his urn
Couched in the sweet cool of moist shady caves,
But on hot summer sands outstretched, he braves
The flaring sunbeams; flung abandoned down,
He with hoarse groans for Bernardino raves;
The yellow daffodils his locks that crown,
Tears with his tangled beard, and rends his sea-green gown.
His weeping Nymphs stand round him, unadorned,
Uncombed their yellow tresses; weep no more,
Your radiant eyes sufficiently have mourned,
Beauteous frequenters of the reedy shore!
With more availing sympathy restore
The mother, standing on distraction's verge;
Soon shall the dear chaste relics you deplore,
Inurned in marble, sleep beside your surge,
And your melodious waves prolong my funeral dirge.
And you, Nymphs, Satyrs, Fauns, that in green bowers
Live free from care, search each Sicilian steep
For salutary herbs and virtuous flowers,
To cure Fernando of a grief so deep;
Search every secret shade, as when you peep
After the lightfoot nymphs, and bounding go
O'er vales and rocks, so may they when asleep
You in their solitudes surprise them, show
Kind as yourselves can wish, and with like fervour glow.
But thou, Fernando, thou whose deeds both past
And recent, deeds which to a loftier aim
Oblige thee to aspire, such splendour cast,
Consider where thou art! for if the name
Which thou, the great and glorified of Fame,
Hast gained among the nations, find its date,
Thy virtue somewhat must relax, and blame
Be thine; and not to brave the storms of fate
With a serene resolve consists not with the Great.
Not thus the shaft, shot by some fatal star
In its due course, should pierce the noble soul;
Ev'n if the heavens should in the dreadful jar
Of maddening elements together roll,
And fall in fragments like a shrivelled scroll,
It should be crushed rather than entertain
Dejection; crags conduct to the high goal
Of immortality, and he whom pain
Leads to decline the' ascent, can ne'er the crown attain.
Call it not stern: for nature's due relief,
To human weakness freely I concede
The natural tears of overflowing grief,
But the excess which would delight to feed
On its own vitals, and indulged proceed
To all eternity, I must assail;
And Time at least, who lessens in his speed
All mortal things beside, if reason fail,
Should o'er thy grief at length be suffered to prevail.
Hector was not for ever so lamented
By his sad mother, or his more sad sire,
But when the fierce Achilles had relented
To his submissive tears, at his desire
Yielding the corse, and when funereal fire
Those dear devoted relics had possessed,
The shrieks they silenced of the Phrygian choir,
Their own acute soliloquies suppressed,
Stifled the rising groan, and soothed their sighs to rest.
Venus, in this point human, what did she
Not feel, perceiving forest, field, and flower,
Flushed with her darling's blood! but taught to see
That clouding her bright eyes with shower on shower
Of tears, might harm herself, but had no power
To purchase her beloved boy's return
From ruthless Proserpine's Cimmerian bower,
She dried her eyes, subdued her vain concern,
And with calm hand entwined her myrtles round his urn.
And soon with light and graceful steps once more
Idalia's verdurous paradise she pressed,
Her usual ornaments and garlands wore,
And round her clasped her beauty-breathing cest;
The winds in wanton flights her locks caressed,
And with fresh joy her looks and rosy bloom
All ocean, earth, and sky divinely blessed:
So look I forward to see thee resume
Wisely thy firmness past, and banish fruitless gloom.
Let thy desire to reach the skies, where care,
And death, and sorrow lose their dues, suffice
Without fresh instance; thou wilt notice there
How little Death has hurt the memories
Of his illustrious victims; cast thine eyes
Whither Faith calls thee, where the ransomed soul
Rests purified by fire, not otherwise
Than was Alcides, to its heavenly goal
When his purged spirit flew from Oeta's topmost knowl.
Thus he for whom such thousand tears are shed,
Who by a difficult and arduous way
Was from his mortal stains refined, is fled
To realms of glory, whence in broad survey
He sees blind mortals in the dark, astray,
And pitying, musing on these pangs of ours,
Joys to have spread his wings abroad, where day,
Day without night, leads on immortal hours,
And Bliss his sapphire crown wreathes round with amaranth flowers.
He Heaven's pure crystalline walks hand in hand
With his brave grandsire and his sire renowned,
The image of their virtues; to the band
Of angels, pleased they point each radiant wound;
This high reward his heroism has found,
The only vengeance granted in the skies
To earthly foes; the ocean flowing round
This globe of ours—the globe itself he eyes,
And learns its petty toys and trifles to despise.
He there beholds the mystic glass which shows
The past, the present, and the future joined;
He sees the period when thy life shall close;
He sees the place to thee in heaven assigned;
Thrice happy soul, freed from the affections blind
With which on earth so fruitlessly we yearn!
Who liv'st in peace and blessedness enshrined,
And shalt live long as, lit at love's bright urn,
With fire of joy divine celestial spirits burn.
And if kind heaven the wished duration lend
To this my sorrowing Elegy, I vow
Whilst shade and sunlight o'er the world extend
Their robes of gloom or glory, whilst winds bow
The woods, whilst lions haunt the mountain's brow,
Or fish the ocean, long as oceans roll,
The world shall sing of thee; since all allow
That one so young, enriched with such a soul,
Will ne'er again be seen from Pole to sparkling Pole.

ELEGY II.
TO BOSCÁN,

WRITTEN AT THE FOOT OF MOUNT ETNA.