Since with sweet Balm the Muse alone can heal
Sad Sorrow's Wound, and sooth the troubled Mind,
Listen a While my Battus , nor refuse
Her grateful Gift of grief-beguiling Verse;
Which to thy much-lov'd Sons, whom dreary Death
Has wrap'd in Stygian Shade, she weeping pays.
At least her Song, if e'er her Song avail'd,
From their fair Names may snatch the Veil of Night.
E'er yet oppress'd by Fate's untimely Stroke
My tender Care inform'd their helpless Age;
Exhibui genitorque, gubernatorque duorum
Infelix, primas alter vix fingere voces,
Alter adhuc teneris jam tum decerpere ab annis
Prima rudimenta, atque omen praebere parenti.
Quos ego (sed Zephyri spes portavere paternas)
Censueram, si fata darent, quum posceret aetas
Fortior, ad dulces tecum traducere Musas
Assiduos, citharamque humeris suspendere eburnam.
Inde ubi jam caelum, ac Solem, fulgentiaque astra,
Terramque, & liquidos ignes, aequorque profundum
Mirari inciperent, latisque animalia campis,
Te monstrante viam, te rerum arcana docente,
Mens fuerat dulces Sophiae deducere ad hortos,
Hortos, quos ver perpetuum, quos aura Favonii
This, yet with lisping Accent scarce could frame
Th' imperfect Word, while This in early Dawn
Cropt the first Flow'rs of Knowledge, and began
To give glad Promise of a fertile Spring.
If Fortune e'er had blest my blooming Hopes
When to firm Manhood grew their ripen'd Age,
My Hand had led them to the mossy Grotts,
Of Cirrha 's Vale, their Father's much-lov'd Haunts,
And on their Shoulder hung Euterpe 's Lute.
Thence, when their soaring Minds had trac'd the Stars,
The golden Sun, broad Deep, and daedal Globe,
While thy sage Mind disclos'd the dubious Way;
To the fair Gardens of Philosophy
Had bore them wond'ring, which eternal Spring
And mild Favonius feed with balmy Dews
Semper alit, semper caelesti nectare pascit.
Hic tremulo, & longâ confecto aetate parenti
Purpureos legerent flores: seniique levamen,
Threiciâ canerent citharâ, quae plurima quondam
Audissent te populeâ meditante sub umbrâ,
Divino mirantem Athesim dum carmine mulces,
Et rerum canis & teneri primordia mundi.
Fortunate senex, si natorum ore referri
Fata sinant, ut nata chao antiquissima rerum
Materies visi correpta cupidine pulchri
Arserit, atque Deam thalamo complexa jugârit
Corpora prima: quibus discordia nata hymenaeis,
Et divisa locis, suprema petiverit ignis
Purior, & nitidis vicinus sederit astris:
Of Nectar; then to crop purpureal Flowers,
Sweet Solace of their hoary Parent's Age;
Oft too to chear thy pensive Eve of Life
Their skilful Hands had strung the Thracian Lyre
To Notes like Thine, that on the daisied Marge
Of Athesis , beneath the Poplar Shade,
They heard thee sing, of Nature's infant Dawn,
The wild Wave hushing with thy magic Strain.
O how thine Age, my much lov'd Friend, had smil'd
If e'er thou could'st have heard thy Sons declare,
How Matter first from shapeless Chaos born
With Beauty long'd to joyn; how Discord rose
At length to Texture and to Shape confin'd;
How to th' ethereal Vault the purer Fire
Aspir'd, and to the starry Reign upflew,
Quem juxta per inane amplum se fuderit air:
Ima autem tellus vasto circum obruta ponto
Constiterit: quam dudum hinc inde agitantibus undis
Substerni late campi, deformiaque arva
Paullatim apparere supra, & concrescere montes
Caeperunt, procul & nudas ostendere cautes,
Mox nemora, & virides undis mirantibus ornos.
Montanis tum speluncis, & rupibus altis
Exsiluere udae formoso corpore Nymphae,
In viridi flavos siccantes littore crines.
O fortunatum nimium, si Numina tantum
Haec mihi servassent, si non casura dedissent.
Verum aliter Lachesi visum est quo tempore primum
Natorum caepit producere fila duorum:
Quippe auram miseris, & dulcem noscere vitam,
While Air diffusive fill'd the spacious Void.
How o'er the Globe a Desert waste and wild
Of Sea was roll'd, 'till from the watry Scene
At length emerg'd broad Plains and oozy Fields,
And high to Heav'n the Mountains heav'd their Backs
Horrid with many a Cliff; while cloath'd in Green
Tall Forests from the wondering Waters rose;
And from the rocky Caves and Caverns dank
Sprung forth the Nymphs in naked Beauty bright,
And dry'd their Tresses on the verdant Shore.
O thrice had Fortune blest my blissful Life,
If ne'er the Gods had cropt these blooming Hopes
And kept them still inviolate; but Death
Just when they promis'd in the rising Dawn
Of Infancy so fair a Spring of Flowers,
Spemque sui dederat praebere: alia omnia ventis
Tradita, nocte atrâ & tenebris involverat Orci.
Non licuit firmos annis, viridesque juventâ
Inspicere, & carae ad metam deducere vitae.
Nec potui votis, nec ope adjuvisse paternâ
Clamantes, frustraque patris suprema petentes
Auxilia, & notâ nequidquam voce vocantes.
Heu mortem invisam! quis te mihi, Paulle, Deorum
Arripit, & miserum complexibus abstrahit istis?
Tu prior immiti correptus morte parentem
Deseris, & dulces auras & lumina linquis.
Quod te si tali dederant sub lege futurum
Fata mihi, non jam fuerat maeroris abunde?
Non gemitus? quid me e tam multis patribus unum,
Caelicolae, lacrimisque novis, & morte recenti
Opprimitis, caroque etiam spoliatis Iulo?
With baleful Breath forbad the Bud to bloom,
And buried all beneath the dismal Shade
Of Tartarus ; nor could my anxious Care
Lead them to glowing Youth, and Manhood firm,
And see them run the weary Length of Life.
Nor could their Parent's earnest Prayers or Art
Save them, tho' loud they call'd with moving Voice
His medicinal Aid! — — O cruel Death,
O say what God, my Paulus , stopt thy Breath,
And tore thee ruthless from my cold Embrace?
You first dear Youth your weeping Father left
No more to view the Beam of chearful Heav'n.
Thy Fate alone had plung'd my lab'ring Soul
In Woe too deep, then wherefore, heav'nly Pow'rs,
Add ye fresh Cause of Grief, and bid new Tears,
New kindred Tears for sweet Iülus flow?
Heu miserande puer, quanto plena omnia luctu
Liquisti abscedens! quem non vesana Deorum
Incusavit inops, quum te complexa jacentem
Aspiceret laniata comas & pectora mater?
Ah misera, ah male fausta parens, quid numina fletu
Sollicitas? jacet ille, velut succisus aratro
Flos tener, & frustra non audit tanta gementem.
Ah misera, ah quid sublatum complexa moraris?
Ille tuus non jam est. Vos illam in funere, matres,
Collapsam accipite, exanimemque reponite tectis.
At vos, insontes animae, carissima nuper
Pignora (quod misero superest optare parenti)
Semper avete mei, ut licuit, semperque valete.
Seu dulce Elysium functos, umbraeque tenebunt
How thy mad Mother every God accus'd,
As o'er thy Coarse reclin'd, her Hair she rent,
And beat with pityless Hand her bleeding Breast.
O cease, fond Mother, to sollicit thus
The Gods with fruitless Cries! as the fair Flower
Whom yet in infant Bloom the shining Share
Cuts from the Parent Glebe, Iülus lies
Deaf to thy loud Complaints; no more embrace
His clay-cold Limbs with unavailing Arms!
Ev'n now, sad Follower of his sable Herse
She faints — ye Matrons lift the drooping Dame,
Rouse struggling Life, and bear to soft Repose!
Ye pure, unspotted Shades! receive this Hail!
This last Adieu, Remembrance of my Love,
And Friendship's Pledge sincere! where'er ye dwell,
Whether ye wander in Elysian Vales,
Sanctorum nemorum, puro seu sidera caelo,
Ipse ego vos semper lacrimis, vos carmine tristi
Prosequar, & vestris persolvam justa sepulchris:
Donec me vobis tenuem conjunxerit umbram
Summa dies, natis aequat quae sola parentes.
Interea curas numeris, Musaque levemus,
Batte, animos: quando rerum mortalis origo est,
Scilicet & quondam veniet labentibus annis
Illa dies, quum jam curvo sub vomere taurus
Desudet, terramque gravis proscindat arator,
Nunc ubi caeruleae rostris spumantibus undae
Sulcantur, verruntque citae freta longa carinae,
Nec vos, o liquidi fontes, aeterna manebunt
Saecula, se tanto quamvis pater efferat amne
Eridanus, tumidusque fluat tot cornibus Ister.
Or triumph in the Star-bespangled Skies,
Still grateful will I pay the duteous Tear
And Rite of sacred Song, nor yearly fail
To crown with freshest Wreaths your honour'd Urns.
Mean time, my Battus , let the Muse relieve
Our Sorrow-lab'ring Breasts and sooth our Cares;
Since All is frail and built on Mortal Base.
The Days will come, when at the tardy Plow
The Steer shall pant, and thro' the stubborn Mold
The Share shall pass, where now the winged Bark
Cleaves the blue Deep, and skims the glassy Plain.
Nor shall the Fountains fam'd in ancient Song
Still stream exhaustless; tho' the mighty Po
Devolves so full a Tide, and Ister laves
Quin etiam airii montes, mirabile dictu,
Taygetus, Syphilusque, jugo & Cymbotus opaco
Innumeras post aestates, ac saecula longa,
Senserunt seniumque suum, supremaque fata;
Ex quo materies thalamos, primosque hymenaeos,
Atque elementa novus sensit discordia mundus.
Unnumber'd Channels, with enormous Flood.
The cloud-capt Mountains, proud Taygetus ,
Tall Sypilus , and crown'd with woody Cliffs
Cymbotus , thro' the Course of endless Years
Have from their deep Foundations felt the Force
Of gradual Dissolution and Decay:
Since Matter first embrac'd the smiling Form
Of Order, and the warring Elements
Together rush'd to form th'emerging World.
Sad Sorrow's Wound, and sooth the troubled Mind,
Listen a While my Battus , nor refuse
Her grateful Gift of grief-beguiling Verse;
Which to thy much-lov'd Sons, whom dreary Death
Has wrap'd in Stygian Shade, she weeping pays.
At least her Song, if e'er her Song avail'd,
From their fair Names may snatch the Veil of Night.
E'er yet oppress'd by Fate's untimely Stroke
My tender Care inform'd their helpless Age;
Exhibui genitorque, gubernatorque duorum
Infelix, primas alter vix fingere voces,
Alter adhuc teneris jam tum decerpere ab annis
Prima rudimenta, atque omen praebere parenti.
Quos ego (sed Zephyri spes portavere paternas)
Censueram, si fata darent, quum posceret aetas
Fortior, ad dulces tecum traducere Musas
Assiduos, citharamque humeris suspendere eburnam.
Inde ubi jam caelum, ac Solem, fulgentiaque astra,
Terramque, & liquidos ignes, aequorque profundum
Mirari inciperent, latisque animalia campis,
Te monstrante viam, te rerum arcana docente,
Mens fuerat dulces Sophiae deducere ad hortos,
Hortos, quos ver perpetuum, quos aura Favonii
This, yet with lisping Accent scarce could frame
Th' imperfect Word, while This in early Dawn
Cropt the first Flow'rs of Knowledge, and began
To give glad Promise of a fertile Spring.
If Fortune e'er had blest my blooming Hopes
When to firm Manhood grew their ripen'd Age,
My Hand had led them to the mossy Grotts,
Of Cirrha 's Vale, their Father's much-lov'd Haunts,
And on their Shoulder hung Euterpe 's Lute.
Thence, when their soaring Minds had trac'd the Stars,
The golden Sun, broad Deep, and daedal Globe,
While thy sage Mind disclos'd the dubious Way;
To the fair Gardens of Philosophy
Had bore them wond'ring, which eternal Spring
And mild Favonius feed with balmy Dews
Semper alit, semper caelesti nectare pascit.
Hic tremulo, & longâ confecto aetate parenti
Purpureos legerent flores: seniique levamen,
Threiciâ canerent citharâ, quae plurima quondam
Audissent te populeâ meditante sub umbrâ,
Divino mirantem Athesim dum carmine mulces,
Et rerum canis & teneri primordia mundi.
Fortunate senex, si natorum ore referri
Fata sinant, ut nata chao antiquissima rerum
Materies visi correpta cupidine pulchri
Arserit, atque Deam thalamo complexa jugârit
Corpora prima: quibus discordia nata hymenaeis,
Et divisa locis, suprema petiverit ignis
Purior, & nitidis vicinus sederit astris:
Of Nectar; then to crop purpureal Flowers,
Sweet Solace of their hoary Parent's Age;
Oft too to chear thy pensive Eve of Life
Their skilful Hands had strung the Thracian Lyre
To Notes like Thine, that on the daisied Marge
Of Athesis , beneath the Poplar Shade,
They heard thee sing, of Nature's infant Dawn,
The wild Wave hushing with thy magic Strain.
O how thine Age, my much lov'd Friend, had smil'd
If e'er thou could'st have heard thy Sons declare,
How Matter first from shapeless Chaos born
With Beauty long'd to joyn; how Discord rose
At length to Texture and to Shape confin'd;
How to th' ethereal Vault the purer Fire
Aspir'd, and to the starry Reign upflew,
Quem juxta per inane amplum se fuderit air:
Ima autem tellus vasto circum obruta ponto
Constiterit: quam dudum hinc inde agitantibus undis
Substerni late campi, deformiaque arva
Paullatim apparere supra, & concrescere montes
Caeperunt, procul & nudas ostendere cautes,
Mox nemora, & virides undis mirantibus ornos.
Montanis tum speluncis, & rupibus altis
Exsiluere udae formoso corpore Nymphae,
In viridi flavos siccantes littore crines.
O fortunatum nimium, si Numina tantum
Haec mihi servassent, si non casura dedissent.
Verum aliter Lachesi visum est quo tempore primum
Natorum caepit producere fila duorum:
Quippe auram miseris, & dulcem noscere vitam,
While Air diffusive fill'd the spacious Void.
How o'er the Globe a Desert waste and wild
Of Sea was roll'd, 'till from the watry Scene
At length emerg'd broad Plains and oozy Fields,
And high to Heav'n the Mountains heav'd their Backs
Horrid with many a Cliff; while cloath'd in Green
Tall Forests from the wondering Waters rose;
And from the rocky Caves and Caverns dank
Sprung forth the Nymphs in naked Beauty bright,
And dry'd their Tresses on the verdant Shore.
O thrice had Fortune blest my blissful Life,
If ne'er the Gods had cropt these blooming Hopes
And kept them still inviolate; but Death
Just when they promis'd in the rising Dawn
Of Infancy so fair a Spring of Flowers,
Spemque sui dederat praebere: alia omnia ventis
Tradita, nocte atrâ & tenebris involverat Orci.
Non licuit firmos annis, viridesque juventâ
Inspicere, & carae ad metam deducere vitae.
Nec potui votis, nec ope adjuvisse paternâ
Clamantes, frustraque patris suprema petentes
Auxilia, & notâ nequidquam voce vocantes.
Heu mortem invisam! quis te mihi, Paulle, Deorum
Arripit, & miserum complexibus abstrahit istis?
Tu prior immiti correptus morte parentem
Deseris, & dulces auras & lumina linquis.
Quod te si tali dederant sub lege futurum
Fata mihi, non jam fuerat maeroris abunde?
Non gemitus? quid me e tam multis patribus unum,
Caelicolae, lacrimisque novis, & morte recenti
Opprimitis, caroque etiam spoliatis Iulo?
With baleful Breath forbad the Bud to bloom,
And buried all beneath the dismal Shade
Of Tartarus ; nor could my anxious Care
Lead them to glowing Youth, and Manhood firm,
And see them run the weary Length of Life.
Nor could their Parent's earnest Prayers or Art
Save them, tho' loud they call'd with moving Voice
His medicinal Aid! — — O cruel Death,
O say what God, my Paulus , stopt thy Breath,
And tore thee ruthless from my cold Embrace?
You first dear Youth your weeping Father left
No more to view the Beam of chearful Heav'n.
Thy Fate alone had plung'd my lab'ring Soul
In Woe too deep, then wherefore, heav'nly Pow'rs,
Add ye fresh Cause of Grief, and bid new Tears,
New kindred Tears for sweet Iülus flow?
Heu miserande puer, quanto plena omnia luctu
Liquisti abscedens! quem non vesana Deorum
Incusavit inops, quum te complexa jacentem
Aspiceret laniata comas & pectora mater?
Ah misera, ah male fausta parens, quid numina fletu
Sollicitas? jacet ille, velut succisus aratro
Flos tener, & frustra non audit tanta gementem.
Ah misera, ah quid sublatum complexa moraris?
Ille tuus non jam est. Vos illam in funere, matres,
Collapsam accipite, exanimemque reponite tectis.
At vos, insontes animae, carissima nuper
Pignora (quod misero superest optare parenti)
Semper avete mei, ut licuit, semperque valete.
Seu dulce Elysium functos, umbraeque tenebunt
How thy mad Mother every God accus'd,
As o'er thy Coarse reclin'd, her Hair she rent,
And beat with pityless Hand her bleeding Breast.
O cease, fond Mother, to sollicit thus
The Gods with fruitless Cries! as the fair Flower
Whom yet in infant Bloom the shining Share
Cuts from the Parent Glebe, Iülus lies
Deaf to thy loud Complaints; no more embrace
His clay-cold Limbs with unavailing Arms!
Ev'n now, sad Follower of his sable Herse
She faints — ye Matrons lift the drooping Dame,
Rouse struggling Life, and bear to soft Repose!
Ye pure, unspotted Shades! receive this Hail!
This last Adieu, Remembrance of my Love,
And Friendship's Pledge sincere! where'er ye dwell,
Whether ye wander in Elysian Vales,
Sanctorum nemorum, puro seu sidera caelo,
Ipse ego vos semper lacrimis, vos carmine tristi
Prosequar, & vestris persolvam justa sepulchris:
Donec me vobis tenuem conjunxerit umbram
Summa dies, natis aequat quae sola parentes.
Interea curas numeris, Musaque levemus,
Batte, animos: quando rerum mortalis origo est,
Scilicet & quondam veniet labentibus annis
Illa dies, quum jam curvo sub vomere taurus
Desudet, terramque gravis proscindat arator,
Nunc ubi caeruleae rostris spumantibus undae
Sulcantur, verruntque citae freta longa carinae,
Nec vos, o liquidi fontes, aeterna manebunt
Saecula, se tanto quamvis pater efferat amne
Eridanus, tumidusque fluat tot cornibus Ister.
Or triumph in the Star-bespangled Skies,
Still grateful will I pay the duteous Tear
And Rite of sacred Song, nor yearly fail
To crown with freshest Wreaths your honour'd Urns.
Mean time, my Battus , let the Muse relieve
Our Sorrow-lab'ring Breasts and sooth our Cares;
Since All is frail and built on Mortal Base.
The Days will come, when at the tardy Plow
The Steer shall pant, and thro' the stubborn Mold
The Share shall pass, where now the winged Bark
Cleaves the blue Deep, and skims the glassy Plain.
Nor shall the Fountains fam'd in ancient Song
Still stream exhaustless; tho' the mighty Po
Devolves so full a Tide, and Ister laves
Quin etiam airii montes, mirabile dictu,
Taygetus, Syphilusque, jugo & Cymbotus opaco
Innumeras post aestates, ac saecula longa,
Senserunt seniumque suum, supremaque fata;
Ex quo materies thalamos, primosque hymenaeos,
Atque elementa novus sensit discordia mundus.
Unnumber'd Channels, with enormous Flood.
The cloud-capt Mountains, proud Taygetus ,
Tall Sypilus , and crown'd with woody Cliffs
Cymbotus , thro' the Course of endless Years
Have from their deep Foundations felt the Force
Of gradual Dissolution and Decay:
Since Matter first embrac'd the smiling Form
Of Order, and the warring Elements
Together rush'd to form th'emerging World.