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LYCIDAS.

EN! iterum laurus, iterum salvete myricæ
Pallentes, nullique hederæ quæ ceditis ævo.
Has venio baccas, quanquam sapor asper acerbis,
Decerptum, quassumque manu folia ista proterva,
Maturescentem prævortens improbus annum.
Causa gravis, pia causa, subest, et amara deûm lex;
Nec jam sponte mea vobis rata tempora turbo.
Nam periit Lycidas, periit superante juventa
Imberbis Lycidas, nec par manet illius alter.
Quis cantare super Lycida neget? Ipse quoque artem
Nôrat Apollineam, versumque imponere versu.
Non nullo vitreum fas innatet ille feretrum
Flente, voluteturque arentes corpus ad auras,
Indotatum adeo et lacrymæ vocalis egenum.

Begin then, sisters, of the sacred well, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;

Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.

Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,

So may some gentle muse

With lucky words favour my destined urn,

And, as he passes, turn

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud:
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill.
Together both, ere the high lawns appeared
Under the opening eyelids of the morn,
We drove afield, and both together heard
What time the gray fly winds her sultry horn,
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright,

Toward Heaven's descent had sloped his westering

wheel.

Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,

Tempered to the oaten flute;

Rough satyrs danced, and fauns with cloven heel

From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damætas loved to hear our song.

Quare agite, o sacri fontis queis cura, sorores,

Cui sub inaccessi sella Jovis exit origo:

Incipite, et sonitu graviore impellite chordas.

Lingua procul male prompta loqui, suasorque mo

rarum

Sit pudor: alloquiis ut mollior una secundis
Pieridum faveat, cui mox ego destiner, urnæ :
Et gressus prætergrediens convertat, et "Esto",
Dicat, "amœna quies atra tibi veste latenti":
Uno namque jugo duo nutribamur; eosdem
Pavit uterque greges ad fontem et rivulum et umbram.
Tempore nos illo, nemorum convexa priusquam,
Aurora reserante oculos, cœpere videri,
Urgebamus equos ad pascua: novimus horam
Aridus audiri solitus qua clangor asili;
Rore recente greges passi pinguescere noctis
Sæpius, albuerat donec quod vespere sidus
Hesperios axes prono inclinasset Olympo.
At pastorales non cessavere camœnæ,
Fistula disparibus quas temperat apta cicutis :
Saltabant Satyri informes, nec murmure læto
Capripedes potuere diu se avertere Fauni;
Damætasque modos nostros longævus amabat.

But oh, the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,

And all their echoes mourn.

The willows, and the hazel-copses green,
Shall now no more be seen,

Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
As killing as the canker to the rose,

Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,
When first the white-thorn blows;
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear.

Where were ye, nymphs, when the remorseless deep
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?
For neither were ye playing on the steep,
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie;
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream :
Ay me! I fondly dream!

Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the muse herself that Orpheus bore, The muse herself for her enchanting son,

Jamque, relicta tibi, quantum mutata viden

tur

Rura-relicta tibi, cui non spes ulla regressûs! Te sylvæ, teque antra, puer, deserta ferarum, Incultis obducta thymis ac vite sequaci, Decessisse gemunt; gemitusque reverberat Echo. Non salices, non glauca ergo coryleta videbo Molles ad numeros lætum motare cacumen. Quale rosis scabies; quam formidabile vermis Depulso jam lacte gregi, dum tondet agellos; Sive quod, indutis verna jam veste, pruinæ Floribus, albet ubi primum paliurus in agris : Tale fuit nostris, Lycidam periisse, bubulcis.

Qua, Nymphæ, latuistis, ubi crudele profundum Delicias Lycidam vestras sub vortice torsit? Nam neque vos scopulis tum ludebatis in illis Quos veteres, Druidæ, vates, illustria servant Nomina; nec celsæ setoso in culmine Monæ, Nec, quos Deva locos magicis amplectitur undis. Væ mihi! delusos exercent somnia sensus: Venissetis enim; numquid venisse juvaret ? Numquid Pieris ipsa parens interfuit Orphei, Pieris ipsa suæ sobolis, qui carmine rexit