37 6
��LATIN POEMS
��Indulsit patrio, inox itidem pectine Dau- nio 10
Longinquutn intonuit melos Vicinis, et humum vix tetigit pede :
��ANTISTROPHE
Quis te, parve liber, quis te fratribus
Subduxit reliquis dolo,
Cum tu missus ab urbe,
Docto jugiter obsecrante aniico,
Illustre tendebas iter
Thamesis ad incunabula
Cserulei patris,
Fontes ubi limpidi 20
Aonidum, thyasusque sacer,
Orbi notus per inimensos
Temporuui lapsus redeunte cselo,
Celeberque futurus in tevum ?
STROPHE 2
Mod6 quis deus, aut editus deo, Pristinam gentis miseratus indolem, (Si satis noxas luimus priores, Mollique luxu degener otium) Tollat nefandos civium tumultus, Almaque revocet studia sanctus, 30
Et relegatas sine sede Musas Jam pene totis finibus Angligenum, Immundasque volucres Unguibus imminentes Figat Apollinea pharetra, Phineamque abigat pestem procul amne Pegaseo ?
ANTISTROPHE
Quin tu, li belle, nuntii licet mala
Fide, vel oscitantia,
Semel erraveris agmine fratrum,
Seu quis te teneat specus, 40
Seu qua te latebra, forsan unde vili
Callo tereris institoris insulsi,
Lsetare felix; en ! iterum tibi
Spes nova fulget posse prof undam
Fugere Lethen, vehique snperam
In Jovis aulam remige penna:
STROPHE 3
Nam te Roiisius sui
Optat peculi, numeroque justo
Sibi pollicitum queritur abesse,
Rogatque venias ille, cujus inclyta 50
��touched my native lute, or played with Italian quill a far-brought melody to those about me, my feet scarce touching the earth for elation,
��ANTISTROPHE
Who filched thee, little book, from thy mates, when at my learned friend's re- peated instance thou tookest thy way from the great city to the cradle of blue Thames, where the limpid fountains of the Muses are, and where ring the sacred shouts which shall be heard and held famous forever, as long as the sky rolls through the immense cycles of Time ?
��STROPHE II
Ah, what god or demi-god will take pity on the pristine worth of our English race (if we have mourned enough our past faults, and our soft degenerate ease) and take from us this curse of civil strife, call back with holy voice the Muses who have been thrust from their old abodes and driven almost quite from English ground, transfix with Apollo's dart the unclean birds whose claws threaten us, and drive away the whole harpy pest far from the waters of Hippocrene ?
��ANTISTROPHE
Thou, little book, though by the perfidy or carelessness of my messenger thou wert stolen from the number of thy mates, to be thrown into some cave or den, where per- haps thou art rubbed by a huckster's sordid palm, yet be glad : lo ! the bright hope may again be thine to escape oblivion, and be lifted on oaring wings to the courts of Jove:
��STROPHE III
For Rouse he into whose care are given the mighty monuments of departed minds desires thee to be of his flock ; he complains that thou art lacking from the full number
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