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What form of death could him appal, who view'd With
undimm’d the monsters of the deep, The sea tempestuous, and thy rocks so rude,
Acroceraunia, ill-omen'd steep ?
The lands by ocean interposing wide,
Bound o'er the waters meant not to be tried.
Presumptuous enough all risks to run,
Mankind through crimes forbidden rush unaw'd ; Presumptuous, too, Iapetus's son
Brought fire on earth by his unhappy fraud. And when the fire was thus by stealth convey'd
From the ætherial dome, a novel corps Of fevers with consumption earth o'erlaid ;
And death's stern certainty, remote before,
Accelerated then its gradual pace.
Dædalus too essay’d, on wings to none Of human kind allow'd, the realms of space
Herculean labour burst through Acheron.
Nil mortalibus arduum est;
Coelum ipsum petimus stultitiâ ; neque
Iracunda Jovem ponere fulmina.
SOLVITUR acris hyems gratâ vice veris et Favonî,
Trahuntque siccas machinæ carinas. Ac neque jam stabulis gaudet pecus, aut arator igni ;
Nec prata canis albicant pruinis.
Jam Cytherea choros ducit Venus, imminente Lunâ:
Junctæque Nymphis Gratiæ decentes
There's nought too arduous for man to prove;
E'en heaven itself we aim at in our pride ; Nor through our madness do we suffer Jove
To lay his vengeful thunderbolts aside.
STERN winter is relax'd once more
By the pleasant change of spring,
Machines the land-dried vessels bring.
In stalls, or ploughmen in the hearth;
With hoary frost the opening earth.
Now Cytherean Venus leads
Beneath th' impending moon the dance :' And the fair Graces o'er the meads,
Mingling with the Nymphs, advance,
Alterno terram quatiunt pede; dum graves Cyclopum
Vulcanus ardens urit officinas.
Nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire myrto,
Aut flore, terræ quem ferunt solutæ. Nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis,
Seu poscat agnâ, sive malit hædo.
Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,
Regumque turres. O beate Sestî, Vitæ summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam.
Jam te premet nox, fabulæque Manes,
And hand in hand alternate urge
With lightsome foot the yielding ground; While the Cyclops' heavy forge
Glowing Vulcan flames around.
'Tis fitting now the shining head
To bind again with myrtle green ;
Springing earliest, are seen. 'Tis fitting now to sacrifice
To Faunus in the leafy grove ; Whether a lamb may best suffice,
Or he a kid would more approve.
At the poor man's lowly hut,
And the lofty towering seats Of potentates, with equal foot,
Pallid Death impartial beats. Oh! happy Sestius, the span
Of life, too short, forbids us quite Remote expectancies to plan :
Thee soon shall fabled Ghosts, and night,