The gentler virtues too are join'd, In youth immortal warm, The soft relations, which, combin'd, Give life her ev'ry charm. The Arts come smiling in the close, And lend celestial fire, The marble breathes, the canvas glows, The Muses sweep the lyre. "Still may my melting bosom cleave To suff'rings not my own, And still the sigh responsive heave, So Pity shall take Virtue's part, Her natural ally, And fashioning my soften'd heart, Prepare it for the sky." This artless vow may Heav'n receive, And you, fond maid, approve : So may your guiding angel give So Whate'er you wish or love. may the rosy-finger'd hours Lead on the various year, And ev'ry joy, which now is yours, Extend a larger sphere. And suns to come, as round they wheel, Your golden moments bless, With all a tender heart can feel, Or lively fancy guess. TRANSLATION FROM VIRGIL. ÆENEID, BOOK VIII. LINE 18. THUS Italy was moved-nor did the chief On every side his anxious thought he turns, Confines the crystal flood, if chance the sun When lo! among the spreading poplar boughs Forth from his pleasant stream, propitious rose The god of Tiber: clear transparent gauze Infolds his loins, his brows with reeds are crown'd: And these his gracious words to sooth his care: “Heav'n-born, who bring'st our kindred home again, Rescued, and giv'st eternity to Troy, Long have Laurentum and the Latian plains Fear not the threats of war, the storm is pass'd, The gods appeas'd. For proof that what thou hear'st Is no vain forgery or delusive dream, Beneath the grove that borders my green bank, Ailk-white swine, with thirty milk-white young all greet thy wond'ring eyes. Mark well the place; For 'tis thy place of rest, there end thy toils: There, twice ten years elaps'd, fair Alba's walls Shall rise, fair Alba, by Ascanius' hand. Thus shall it be-now listen, while I teach Declining stars, seek Juno in thy pray'r, And vanquish all her wrath with suppliant vows. When conquest crowns thee, then remember Me. I am the Tiber, whose cærulean stream Heav'n favours; I with copious flood divide These grassy banks, and cleave the fruitful meads. My mansion, This-and lofty cities crown. |