PAINTER, this likeness is too strong,
And we shall mourn the dead too long.
AT three-score winters' end I died
A cheerless being, sole and sad,
The nuptial knot I never tied,
And wish my father never had.
BY CALLIMACHUS
Ar morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and at even-tide,
Unable to sustain a loss so dear,
By her own hand his blooming sister died.
Thus Aristippus mourn'd his noble race,
Annihilated by a double blow,
Nor son could hope, nor daughter more t' embrace,
And all Cyrene sadden'd at his woe.
ON MILTIADES
MILTIADES! thy valour best
(Although in every region known)
The men of Persia can attest,
Taught by thyself at Marathon.
BEWAIL not much, my parents! me, the prey
Of ruthless Ades, and sepulcher'd here.
An infant, in my fifth scarce finish'd year,
He found all sportive, innocent, and gay,
Your young Callimachus; and if I knew
Not many joys, my griefs were also few.
ON A FOWLER, BY ISIODORUS WITH Seeds and bird-lime, from the desert air, Eumelus gather'd free, though scanty, fare. No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kiss, Nor lux'ry knew, save liberty, nor bliss. Thrice thirty years he liv'd, and to his heirs His seeds bequeath'd, his bird-lime, and his snares. 6 By Callimachus-1 plac'd. . . funereal Hayley (1812).
CHARON receive a family on board
Itself sufficient for thy crazy yawl;
Apollo and Diana, for a word
By me too proudly spoken, slew us all.
TRAVʼLLER, regret not me; for thou shalt find,
Just cause of sorrow none in my decease,
Who, dying, childrens' children left behind,
And with one wife liv'd many a year in peace :
Three virtuous youths espous'd my daughters three,
And oft their infants in my bosom lay,
Nor saw I one of all deriv'd from me
Touch'd with disease, or torn by death away.
Their duteous hands my fun'ral rites bestow'd,
And me, by blameless manners fitted well
To seek it, sent to the serene abode
Where shades of pious men for ever dwell.
THEY call thee rich-I deem thee poor,
Since if thou dar'st not use thy store,
But sav'st it only for thine heirs,
The treasure is not thine, but theirs.
A MISER, traversing his house,
Espied, unusual there, a mouse,
And thus his uninvited guest,
Briskly inquisitive, address'd:
"Tell me, my dear, to what cause is it
I owe this unexpected visit?"
The mouse her host obliquely eyed,
And, smiling, pleasantly replied,
"Fear not, good fellow! for your hoard,
I come to lodge, and not to board."
ART thou some individual of a kind
Long-liv'd by nature as the rook or hind?
Heap treasure, then, for if thy need be such,
Thou hast excuse, and scarce canst heap too much.
But man thou seem'st, clear therefore from thy breast
This lust of treasure-folly at the best!
For why shouldst thou go wasted to the tomb,
To fatten with thy spoils, thou know'st not whom? 8
ON HERMOCRATIA
HERMOCRATIA nam'd--save only one,
Twice fifteen births I bore, and buried none;
For neither Phoebus pierc'd my thriving joys,
Nor Dian---she my girls, or he my boys.
But Dian rather, when my daughters lay
In parturition, chas'd their pangs away;
And all my sons, by Phoebus' bounty, shar'd
A vig'rous youth, by sickness unimpair'd.
Oh Niobe! far less prolific! see
Thy boast against Latona sham'd by me!
IN Cnidus born, the consort I became
Of Euphron. Aretimias was my name.
His bed I shar'd, nor prov'd a barren bride,
But bore two children at a birth, and died.
One child I leave to solace and uphold
Euphron hereafter, when infirm and old ;
And one, for his remembrance sake, I bear
To Pluto's realm, till he shall join me there. 8
ON FEMALE INCONSTANCY
RICH, thou hadst many lovers-poor, hast none,
So surely want extinguishes the flame,
And she, who call'd thee once her pretty one,
And her Adonis, now inquires thy name.
Where wast thou born, Sosicrates, and where
In what strange country can thy parents live,
Who seem'st, by thy complaints, not yet aware
That want's a crime no woman can forgive?
ON THE REED
I WAS of late a barren plant,
Useless, insignificant.
Nor fig, nor grape, nor apple bore,
A native of the marshy shore,
But gather'd for poetic use,
And plung'd into a sable juice,
Of which my modicum I sip,
With narrow mouth and slender lip,
At once, although by nature dumb,
All-eloquent I have become,
And speak with fluency untir'd,
As if by Phoebus' self inspir'd.
ELDEST-born of pow'rs divine!
Blest Hygeia! be it mine
To enjoy what thou canst give,
And henceforth with thee to live:
For in pow'r if pleasure be,
Wealth, or num'rous progeny,
Or in amorous embrace,
Where no spy infests the place;
Or in aught that Heav'n bestows
To alleviate human woes,
When the wearied heart despairs,
Of a respite from its cares;
These and ev'ry true delight
Flourish only in thy sight;
And the sister Graces Three
Owe, themselves, their youth to thee,
Without whom we may possess
Much, but never happiness.
TO THE SWALLOW
ATTIC maid! with honey fed,
Bear'st thou to thy callow brood
Yonder locust from the mead,
Destin'd their delicious food?
Ye have kindred voices clear,
Ye alike unfold the wing,
Migrate hither, sojourn here,
Both attendant on the spring.
Ah for pity drop the prize;
Let it not, with truth, be said
That a songster gasps and dies,
That a songster may be fed.
ON THE GRASSHOPPER
HAPPY Songster! perch'd above
On the summit of the grove,
Whom a dew-drop cheers to sing
With the freedom of a king ;
From thy perch, survey the fields,
Where prolific nature yields
Nought that, willingly as she,
Man surrenders not to thee.
For hostility or hate
None thy pleasures can create.
Thee it satisfies to sing
Sweetly the return of Spring,
Herald of the genial hours,
Harming neither herbs nor flow'rs.
Therefore man thy voice attends
Gladly-thou and he are friends;
Nor thy never-ceasing strains
Phoebus or the Muse disdains
As too simple or too long,
For themselves inspire the song.
Earth-born, bloodless, undecaying,
Ever singing, sporting, playing,
What has nature else to show
Godlike in its kind as thou?
ON A BATH, BY PLATO
DID Cytherea to the skies
From this pellucid lymph arise?
Or was it Cytherea's touch,
When bathing here, that made it such?
ON PALLAS BATHING
FROM A HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS
NOR oils of balmy scent produce,
Nor mirror for Minerva's use,
Ye nymphs who lave her! she, array'd
In genuine beauty, scorns their aid.
Not even when they left the skies
To seek on Ida's head the prize
From Paris' hand, did Juno deign,
Or Pallas, in the crystal plain
Of Simois' stream her locks to trace,
Or in the mirror's polish'd face,
Though Venus oft with anxious care
Adjusted twice a single hair.
FOND youth! who dream'st that hoarded gold Is needful, not alone to pay
For all thy various items sold,
To serve the wants of ev'ry day; Bread, vinegar, and oil, and meat, For sav'ry viands season'd high ; But somewhat more important yetI tell thee what it cannot buy.
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