 | Aonian Hours; And Other Poems |  |
Propertius; Book III. Elegy X.
To Leuce.
I was wondering, my Leuce, when morn was begun,
What visions the Muses around me might spread,
As seen by the first bursting blush of the sun,
They had left their Parnassus, and stood round my bed;
There stood they in silence, but shortly I knew
That they brought me the sign of thy natal day,
For thrice o'er the sweet lyre their white fingers flew,
And in joy and in music they vanished away.
What visions the Muses around me might spread,
As seen by the first bursting blush of the sun,
They had left their Parnassus, and stood round my bed;
There stood they in silence, but shortly I knew
That they brought me the sign of thy natal day,
For thrice o'er the sweet lyre their white fingers flew,
And in joy and in music they vanished away.
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And I know by this sign that the skies far and wide
Shall be cloudless, the day undiscoloured shall pass,
That the winds shall be silent, the waves cease to chide,
Smooth-flowing as Music, and brilliant as glass.
In a day so auspicious, an hour so bright,
Away with the sight and the sound of distress!
On this day even Niobe's heart shall be light,
And though marble, her sighs and her sorrows suppress.
Shall be cloudless, the day undiscoloured shall pass,
That the winds shall be silent, the waves cease to chide,
Smooth-flowing as Music, and brilliant as glass.
In a day so auspicious, an hour so bright,
Away with the sight and the sound of distress!
On this day even Niobe's heart shall be light,
And though marble, her sighs and her sorrows suppress.
The bills of the halcyons no storms shall bespeak,
But their blue, calming wings flutter over the main,
The mother of Itys shall utter no shriek,
Nor remember past days, and past vigils of pain.
And thou, O my love! on youth's sunniest wings,
In thy loveliness rise—the Celestials address,
Haste! drive away sleep in the clear gush of springs,
And compose the fine flow of each elegant tress.
But their blue, calming wings flutter over the main,
The mother of Itys shall utter no shriek,
Nor remember past days, and past vigils of pain.
And thou, O my love! on youth's sunniest wings,
In thy loveliness rise—the Celestials address,
Haste! drive away sleep in the clear gush of springs,
And compose the fine flow of each elegant tress.
Then the vest which was worn in that whitest of hours,
When thy beauty first ravished my eyes thou must wear,
The garden, thou seest, is not vacant of flowers,
Then wreathe the white rose in thy delicate hair;
Every grace which can heighten thy beauty design,
For renewed with the roses such beauty should be—
I would not one charm or one minute resign
Of the ages I owe to love, beauty, and thee.
When thy beauty first ravished my eyes thou must wear,
The garden, thou seest, is not vacant of flowers,
Then wreathe the white rose in thy delicate hair;
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For renewed with the roses such beauty should be—
I would not one charm or one minute resign
Of the ages I owe to love, beauty, and thee.
And when we have done with the censer and myrrh,
And the flames of the altar have shone round the room,
Mirth shall sit at our banquet, and Wisdom with her,
And the night hurry down amid wines and perfume.
When the wild flutes their power of pleasing resign,
We will fly to the strings of the cittern again,
And let not, dear Leuce, those sweet lips of thine
Be tinctured with censure or cruelty then.
And the flames of the altar have shone round the room,
Mirth shall sit at our banquet, and Wisdom with her,
And the night hurry down amid wines and perfume.
When the wild flutes their power of pleasing resign,
We will fly to the strings of the cittern again,
And let not, dear Leuce, those sweet lips of thine
Be tinctured with censure or cruelty then.
From the sounds of our mirth dulcet slumber shall fly,
Altar and dome shall resound them together,
We will gaily decide, dear! by casting the die,
Upon which tyrant Love lays his heaviest feather.
And when flowing glasses have passed without number,
And Vesper has trimmed up his lamp for the night,
We will bury our yearly observance in slumber—
And thus shall thy festal pass by with delight.
Altar and dome shall resound them together,
We will gaily decide, dear! by casting the die,
Upon which tyrant Love lays his heaviest feather.
And when flowing glasses have passed without number,
And Vesper has trimmed up his lamp for the night,
We will bury our yearly observance in slumber—
And thus shall thy festal pass by with delight.
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