Wish ye that I too should my full share imbibe Of strong Falernian? Then let the brother say, Of the Opuntian maid, Megilla, Blest by what wound, or whose dart, he dieth! Is he unwilling? upon no other terms I'll drink. Whatever passion subdues thy breast, Aye to ingenuous love thou yieldest! What secret thou hast, come and disclose to me, Thou of a worthier flame deserving! What witch, what sage can, with his Thessalian drugs, Ever release thee? which of the Deities? By that triformed Chimæra fettered, Pegasus scarcely himself shall free thee! XXVIII. A SAILOR AND ARCHYTAS' GHOST. THEE the poor off'ring of a few handsful of dust, O Archytas, To the Matinian borders confineth : Thou that couldst measure the dry land, ocean, or sands without number; Nor doth it now in anywise help thee, Death having claimed thee, to have thy way tracked through the air's regions, Mentally traversing all the round pole o'er! DIED, too, the father of Pelops, fellow-guest with the Immortals; Even Tithonus, up-wafted on ether; Minos also, who was admitted to Jupiter's coun sel. HADES, too, holdeth Panthoïdes, twice sent To Orcus down: though by his hung-up shield calling to witness Troja's dire season, that he had yielded Nothing to black Death further than sinews and out ward appearance: E'en in thy judgment no mean discov'rer Of truth and Nature's laws. ONE night all men awaiteth, And one path of death must be trodden. Some the Furies assign as sights for the grim God of battles; Oft greedy Ocean's the doom of the sailor. Biers of the old and the young men thick are crowded together: No head cruel Proserpina spareth. Me has the rapid attendant of the declining Orion, Notus, in waters Illyrian o'erwhelmed. But thou, sailor, refuse not, cruel, to cast a small portion, Over my bones and my head all-unburied, Of the loose sea-sand: so, whate'er may be threatened by Eurus To the Hesperian billows, be thou safe, And be the woods of Venusia smitten; may there to thee flow Plenteous prosperity, whence it so well can, From just Jove, and Neptune, guardian of sacred Tarentum! Dost thou make light of committing a sad fault, Haply proving an injury unto thy harmless descend ants? Well-deserved vengeance and scornful reprisals Yet shall await thee: my prayers shall not be left unavenged: Never shall victim in sacrifice free thee. Though thou dost hasten, short the delay is: thrice be the sand thrown; Then 'tis allowed thee to speed thy departure! XXIX. TO ICCIUS. Dost thou, O Iccius, long for Arabia's wealth? Art thou preparing now the fierce rage of war Conquered; and now for the dreadful Median Fetters dost thou forge? Which of barbarian maids Shall be thy servant, while her betrothed lies slain? What stripling from the halls of kings shall Stand, with anointed locks, thy cup-bearer; |