Is there no help for this lost realm ?—from thee, He saw, and wept to see. Soon, at his bidding, Love, the beauteous child, Returned; rich Plenty blessed the land's increase; Staid Order, gentle Peace, Twin-born of Justice, smiled.— The morrow dawned; and lo! the hand that gave Knowledge and mercy forth, is still and cold. All men, we know of old, Go down into the grave,— The bad with curses, and the good with tears; Bear fruit for other years. Servant of God, a blessing on thy head! E'en in the tomb a blessing! Love did move Will not forget thee, dead! ἔσσεαι· τί πλήν ; ὅσιον γε τύμβον εὐθέως δαιδάλλομεν, ἐν δέ τύμβῳ τὰν τεὴν αἴναν γράφομεν, πόθον τε, ὦ μακαρῖτα. ἐνθάδ', εἶδος μαρμάρεον, μάταιον Ινδία στένει γόον, αἱ δὲ βᾶσσαι δειέλοις φύλλων ψιθυρίσμασιν τὰν πένθιμον αὐδὲν ἀδέως θρυλλοῦσιν· ὁ δ ̓ ἑπτάφωνος ὑδάτων πατὴρ βραδὺς ἐς θάλασσαν κυμάτων χέει ῥόον· ἡσύχῳ κλαί ουσα παρ' ὄχθα, μορσίμοις ἀμαχανέοισα λύπαις, ἱσδάνει κόρα τις, ἐπὶ ῥεέθροις ὀμμάτων πήξασα φάος, καλὰς πλέξ ασ' ἐνὶ κόλπω ὠλένας—τοσόνδε γέρας θανόντι εὖ δὲ τέθνακας· πολιὸν γὰρ ὄντα λαμβάνει σκότος, βιότου τε πόρσω. εὔχομαι τοιόνδε βίον, πάφου του όνδε λάχοιμι. What more than this will Providence allow? He is lamented now!" There in the living marble India grieves; From its unnumbered leaves, And the great River pours its sacred streams Wrapt in her lonely dreams, Some maiden sits, pale, with neglected charms, Folding her snowy arms. These are thine honors! o'er the hallowed spot, When the soft moonlight comes upon the vale, Memory shall tell her tale, Mourning, and murmuring not; For silvered o'er with time, and full of days, Thou sleepest well!-May Heaven to me assign In life such task as thine, And in the tomb such praise! EPIGRAMMATON LIBER: GRECE, LATINE, ANGLICE. ΕΡΩ ΤΕ ΔΗΤΑ ΚΟΥΚ ΕΡΩ. α ́. Καρολέττα, πασῶν παρθένων (This was one of the Cambridge Prize Epigrams for 1822.) LOVE AND NO LOVE. TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING. CHARLOTTE, thou far the dearest belle I take it, and you turn to chide; I will not shiver Cupid's chain, But find a way to loose the knot; And we an equal flame will prove; Love, as you love me, lovely belle, Love me, without a spark of love, And I will love you-just as well! |