Et teneras raptim veneres, blandosque lepores,

Et tacitos risus transtulit in tabulam.

Pingendo desiste tuum signare dolorem ;

Filioli longum vivet imago tui;

Vivet, et æternâ vives tu laude, nec arte
Vincendus pictor, nec pietate pater.

THE

TEARS OF A PAINTER.

APELLES, hearing that his boy

Had just expir'd-his only joy!

Although the sight with anguish tore him,
Bade place his dear remains before him.
He seiz'd his brush, his colours spread;
And-" Oh! my child, accept," he said,

('Tis all that I can now bestow,)

"This tribute of a father's wo!"

Then, faithful to the two-fold part,
Both of his feelings and his art,
He clos'd his eyes, with tender care,
And form'd at once a fellow pair.
His brow, with amber locks beset,
And lips he drew, not livid yet;
And shaded all that he had done
To a just image of his son.

Thus far is well. But view again The cause of thy paternal pain! Thy melancholy task fulfil!

It needs the last, last touches still. Again his pencil's powers he tries, For on his lips a smile he spies: And still his cheek unfaded shows The deepest damask of the rose. Then, heedful to the finish'd whole, With fondest eagerness he stole,

Till scarce himself distinctly knew

The cherub copied from the true.

Now, painter, cease! Thy task is done.
Long lives this image of thy son;
Nor short-liv'd shall thy glory prove,

Or of thy labour, or thy love.

SPE FINIS.

AD dextram, ad lævam, porro, retro, itque re

ditque,

Deprensum in laqueo quem labyrinthus habet, Et legit et relegit gressus, sese explicet unde, Perplexum quærens unde revolvat iter.

Sta modò, respira paulum, simul accipe filum;
Certius et melius non Ariadne dabit.

Sic te, sic solum, expedies errore; viarum
Principium invenias, id tibi finis erit.

THE MAZE.

FROM right to left, and to and fro,
Caught in a labyrinth, you go,

And turn, and turn, and turn again,

To solve the myst'ry, but in vain;
Stand still and breathe, and take from me

A clew, that soon shall set you free!
Not Ariadne, if you meet her,

Herself could serve you with a better.
You enter'd easily-find where—

And make, with ease, your exit there!

NEMO MISER NISI COMPARATUS.

"QUIS fuit infelix adeò! quis perditus æque!" Conqueritur moesto carmine tristis amans.

Non novus hic. questus, rarove auditus; amantes Deserti et spreti mille queruntur idem.

Fatum decantas quod tu miserabile, multus Deplorat, multo cum Corydone, Strephon. Si tua cum reliquis confertur amica puellis, Non ea vel sola est ferrea, tuve miser.

NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE SUFFERER.

THE lover, in melodious verses;

His singular distress rehearses,

Still closing with a rueful cry,

"Was ever such a wretch as I?"
Yes! thousands have endur'd before
All thy distress; some, haply more.
Unnumber'd Corydons complain,
And Strephons, of the like disdain:
And if thy Chloe be of steel,

Too deaf to hear, too hard to feel;
Not her alone that censure fits,

Nor thou alone hast lost thy wits.