ROBINSON AFTER A DRAWING BY W. HARVEY OF THE ORIGINAL BY DEVIS
Instead of a pound or two spending a mint Must serve me at least, I believe, with a hint That, building and building, a man may be driven At last out of doors, and have no house to live in.
THE twentieth year is well-nigh past Since first our sky was overcast ;
Ah, would that this might be the last,
Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
I see thee daily weaker grow;
'Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary!
Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused and shine no more, My Mary!
For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will,
But well thou playedst the housewife's part, And all thy threads with magic art
Have wound themselves about this heart,
Thy indistinct expressions seem
Like language uttered in a dream ;
Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme,
Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light,
For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary!
Partakers of the sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign: Yet, gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
And then I feel that still I hold A richer store ten thousandfold Than misers fancy in their gold,
Such feebleness of limbs thou provest, That now at every step thou movest Upheld by two, yet still thou lovest, My Mary!
And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still,
But ah! by constant heed I know, How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,
And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last,
IN OCEANO GERMANICO NATANTES
EN, quæ prodigia, ex oris allata remotis, Oras adveniunt pavefacta per æquora nostras ! Non equidem priscæ sæclum rediisse videtur Pyrrhæ, cum Proteus pecus altos visere montes Et sylvas, egit, sed tempora vix leviora Adsunt, evulsi quando radicitus alti
In mare descendunt montes, fluctusque pere rrant. Quid vero hoc monstri est magis et mirabile visu ? Splendentes video, ceu pulchro ex ære vel auro Conflatos, rutilisque accinctos undique gemmis, Baccâ cæruleâ, et flammas imitante pyropo.
Ex oriente adsunt, ubi gazas optima tellus Parturit omnigenas, quibus æva per omnia sumptu Ingenti finxêre sibi diademata reges?
Vix hoc crediderim. Non fallunt talia acutos Mercatorum oculos: prius et quàm littora Gangis Liquissent, avidis gratissima præda fuissent. Ortos unde putemus? An illos Ves'vius atrox Protulit, ignivomisve ejecit faucibus Ætna? Luce micant propriâ, Phœbive, per aëra purum Nunc stimulantis equos, argentea tela retorquent ? Phœbi luce micant. Ventis et fluctibus altis Appulsi, et rapidis subter currentibus undis, Tandem non fallunt oculos. Capita alta videre est Multâ onerata nive et canis conspersa pruinis.
Cætera sunt glacies. Procul hinc, ubi Bruma ferè omnes Contristat menses, portenta hæc horrida nobis Illa strui voluit. Quoties de culmine summo Clivorum fluerent in littora prona solutæ Sole nives, propero tendentes in mare cursu, Illa gelu fixit. Paulatim attollere sese Mirum cœpit opus; glacieque ab origine rerum In glaciem aggestâ sublimes vertice tandem Æquavit montes non crescere nescia moles. Sic immensa diu stetit æternumque stetisset Congeries, hominum neque vi neque mobilis arte, Littora ni tandem declivia deseruisset, Pondere victa suo. Dilabitur. Omnia circum Antra et saxa gemunt, subito concussa fragore, Dum ruit in pelagum, tanquam studiosa natandi, Ingens tota strues. Sic Delos dicitur olim, Insula, in Ægæo fluitâsse erratica ponto. Sed non ex glacie Delos; neque torpida Delum Bruma inter rupes genuit nudum sterilemque; Sed vestita herbis erat illa, ornataque nunquam Deciduâ lauro; et Delum dilexit Apollo. At Vos, errones horrendi, et caligine digni Cimmeriâ, Deus idem odit. Natalia vestra, Nubibus involvens frontem, non ille tueri Sustinuit. Patrium vos ergo requirite cælum ! Ite! Redite! Timete moras; ni leniter austro Spirante, et nitidas Phobo jaculante sagittas Hostili vobis, pereatis gurgite misti!
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