Ah! beauteous Maid! let this example move
Your mind averse from all the joys of love. Deign to be lov'd, and ev'ry heart subdue!
What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you? Not she whose beauty urg'd the Centaur's arms, Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms. Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
A thousand court you, tho' they court in vain; A thousand sylvans, demi-gods, and gods, That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods. But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise,
Whom age and long experience render wise, And one, whose tender care is far above All that these lovers ever felt of love, (Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd) Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest:
Tu tamen exemplo non tangeris arboris hujus; Concubitusque fugis; nec te conjungere curas. Atque utinam velles! Helene non pluribus esset Sollicitata procis; nec quæ Lopitheia movit Prolia, nec conjux timidis audacis Ulyssei. Nunc quoque, cum fugias averserisque, petentes, Mille proci cupiunt ; et semideique, deique, Et quæcunque tenent Albanos numina montes. Sed tu, si sapies, si te bene jungere, anumque Hanc audire voles, (quæ te plus omnibus illis, Plus quam credis, amo) vulgares rejice tædas; Vertumnumque tori socium tibi selige: pro quo
For his firm faith I dare engage my own; Scarce to himself, himself is better known. To distant lands Vertumnus never roves; Like you, contented with his native groves; Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair: For you he lives; and you alone shall share His last affection, as his early care. Besides, he's lovely far above the rest, With youth immortal, and with beauty blest. Add, that he varies ev'ry shape with ease, And tries all forms that may Pomona please. But what should most excite a mutual flame, Your rural cares and pleasures are the same. To him your orchard's early fruits are due; (A pleasing off'ring when 'tis made by you) He values these; but yet, alas! complains That still the best and dearest gift remains.
Me quoque pignus habe. Neque enim sibi notior ille est,
Quam mihi. Nec toto passim vagus errat in orbe. 85 Hæc loca sola colit. Nec uti pars magno procorum, Quam modo vidit, amat. Tu primus et ultimus illi Ardor eris; solique suos tibi devovet annos. Adde, quod est juvenis: quod naturale decoris Munus habet; formasque apte fingetur in omnes:
Et, quod erit jussus (jubeas licet omnia) fiet. Quid, quod amatis item, quod, quæ tibi poma colun-
Primus habet; lætaque tenet tua munera dextra? 98 Sed neque jam fœtus desiderat arbore demptos,
Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows; Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise, Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies; You, only you, can move the god's desire; Oh! crown so constant and so pure a fire! Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind; Think 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind: So may no frost, when early buds appear, Destroy the promise of the youthful year; Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows, Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!" This, when the various god had urg'd in vain, He straight assum'd his native form again: Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears, As when thro' clouds th' emerging sun appears,
And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
Nec quas hortus alit, cum succis mitibus herbas; 100 Nec quicquam, nisi te. Miserere ardentis; et ipsum, Qui petit ore meo, præsentem crede precari---
Sic tibi nec vernum nascentia frigus adurat Poma; nec excutiant rapidi florentia venti." Hæc ubi nequicquam formas Deus aptus in omnes, Edidit; in juvenem rediit: et anilia demit Instrumenta sibi. Talisque adparuit illi, Qualis ubi oppositas nitidissima solis imago Evicit nubes, nullaque obstante reluxit.
Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design; For when, appearing in a form divine, The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace Of charming features and a youthful face, In her soft breast consenting passions move, And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.
Vimque parat: sed vi non est opus; inque figura Capta Dei nympha est, et mutua vulnera sentit.
[Done by the Author in his youth.]
I. CHAUCER.
OMEN ben full of ragerie,
Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
Thilke moral shall ye understond, From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond; Which to the fennes hath him betake, To filche the grey ducke fro the lake. Right then there passen by the way His aunt, and eke her daughters tway. Ducke in his trowses hath he hent, Not to be spy'd of ladies gent. But ho! our nephew," crieth one, "Ho!" quoth another, "Cozen John;" And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,--- This sely clerke full low doth lout: They asken that, and talken this, "Lo, here is Coz, and here is Miss." But, as he glozeth with speeches soote, The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote: Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest Forth thrust a white neck and red crest.
Te-hee;" cry'd ladies; clerke nought spake: Miss star'd, and grey ducke crieth “quaake.” "O moder, moder!" quoth the daughter, "Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
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