And the growing corn is beaten down,
The young fruits fall and moulder,
The vessels reel, the mariners drown,
Awing the beholder;

Yet in evil to man is good for man :

the plan,

Then let our heart be bolder;
For more and more shall appear
As the world and we grow older.

Lynch-Theophilus Trinal.

XIII.

Into ELEGIACS.

Clouds gathered with clouds grow dark, in the troubled sky the lightnings cast with thunder flash. But again the garrulous air shall bring to our gladdened ears the notes of birds in wonted sweetness. As soon as the shower shall have shed its falling drops, Phœbus will put forth his face in the obscure sky. The thin clouds will vanish, the darkness being dispersed, a golden light will transmit its beam through the expanse. Moreover too the renovated earth will glow with new scent, and the melody of birds will arise through the shrubberies. Thus varied vicissitudes are changed in varying hours; which produce advantage and gain to all things. And although, as the rapid storms rage in the air, they bring fire and a deluge over the earth; the ripe crops are beaten down to the wet plain, and the fruits fallen from their stem perish in moulder; the ships may be shattered, the sailors drowned in the whirlpool; that the hearts of beholders quiver with fear. Whatever evils there may be, the same are blessings to weary mortals; but

then let our oppressed hearts shake off fear. For this plan shall appear more and more plain, as in the lapse of time accumulated days increase.

XIV.

The sturdy rock, for all his strength,
By raging seas is rent in twain;
The marble stone is pierc'd at length,
With little drops of drizzling rain:
The ox doth yield unto the yoke,
The steel obeyeth the hammer stroke.

The stately stag, that seems so stout,
By yelping hounds at bay is set;
The swiftest bird that flies about,

At length is caught in fowler's net :
The greatest fish, in deepest brook,
Is soon deceived by subtle hook.

Yea, man himself, unto whose will
All things are bounden to obey,
For all his wit and worthy skill,

Doth fade at length, and fall away.
There is nothing but time doth waste,
The heav'ns, the earth, consume at last.

But virtue sits, triumphing still,

Upon the throne of glorious fame;
Though spiteful death man's body kill,
Yet hurts he not his virtuous name.
By life or death, whate'er betides,

The state of Virtue never slides.

Prior.

XIV.

Into ALCAICS.

The rock may stand firm in its own bulk, yet it is rent by the continual assault of the wave; and the marble eaten out is hollowed by the perpetual sprinklings of rain. If the ox obstinate oft kicks back, at last he will yield his worn neck to the yoke; and the hard rigour of the iron is overcome by the sure stroke of the hammer. The stag may exult in her course through the fields, but the keen dogs with rabid energy will stay her; and the bird with fleet wing is entangled in the deceitful nets. The largest fish which floats in the lowest whirlpool of the stream that lies safely hid, presently by the art of the fisherman sticks the victim of the pitiless hook. Nay, (he) to whom all things yield beneath the laws of his supreme sway, to man there is not enough strength or skilful art to avoid the ruin of death. And whatever is conceived anywhere, it will fall overwhelmed in the lapse of waning time; broken up, the world will fall to pieces, the earth and the upper heaven together. But pure Virtue sits on her throne, glorious in the triumphs of fame; Libitina, if she strike the mortal body, cannot injure the honourable name. Whatever the lot of his life may have brought to any one, whatever it may bring in the last hour of death, no length of time will be able to move the intact honours of Virtue!

XV.

Smooth life had flock and shepherd in old time,
Long springs and tepid winters, on the banks

Of delicate Galesus; and no less

Those scattered along Adria's myrtle shores:

Smooth life had herdsman, and his snow-white herd,

To triumphs and to sacrificial rites
Devoted on the inviolable stream

Of rich Clitumnus; and the goatherd lived
As calmly, underneath the pleasant brows
Of cool Lucretilis, where the pipe was heard
Of Pan, Invisible God, thrilling the rocks
With tutelary music, from all harm
The fold protecting.

Wordsworth.

XV.

Into HEXAMETERS.

How well both sheep and shepherds used to live in the olden time; Jupiter bestowed on them long spring and tepid winters, whether they wandered beside the pleasant banks and flowery meads of Galesus, or by the verdant edge of the Hadriatic shore. How well the old neatherds used to live, who guarded the snowy herds, preserved either for the frankincense-burning altars of the Deity, or for the triumphs of heroes, where the Clitumnus, sacred river, traverses the fields. Not otherwise did life flow on to the lowly goatherds among the vales and grateful shades of Lucretilis; where the light pipe of Pan, the Deity not being seen, is heard among the crags, among the echoing rocks of the country. That God, by the magic sweetness of his song, rendered goats and sheepcotes safe from all harm.

XVI.

Born in yon blaze of orient sky,

Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold;

Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,

And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.

For thee the fragrant zephyrs blow,
For thee descends the sunny shower;
The rills in softer murmurs flow,

And brighter blossoms gem the bower.

Light graces decked in flowery wreaths,
And tiptoe joys their hands combine;
And Love his sweet contagion breathes,
And, laughing, dances round thy shrine.

Warm with new life, the glittering throng,
On quivering fin and rustling wing,
Delighted join their votive song,

And hail thee Goddess of the Spring.

XVI.

Darwin.

Into ELEGIACS.

Thou who art born in the blaze of the Eastern sky, O genial Maia, let thy beauty beam forth. Let thy blue eyes, in which love clings, be opened; let the breeze gently fan thy golden hair. Lo! for thee the fragrant Zephyrs blow from the mountains; lo! for thee the drop falls in the rays of Iris. The fountains pour forth sprinklings with gentler murmur, and through the shrubberies the flowers shine brighter. The Graces bring garlands; Joys also around have twined their united hands on tiptoe. Among whom Cupid breathes glad contagion, and, laughing, links his bands in your temple. A glittering troop is there, and in these new life glows, whether their fins quiver, or their light wing rustles. All rejoice to chant the votive song, and acknowledge thee, good Maia, Goddess of the Spring.