Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
 | I. |
|
 |
|
| II. |
 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Let Patience moderate thy Grief, he cries;
Nor think Thyself unfortunate alone,
But learn by Others Woes, to bear thine own.—
Nor think Thyself unfortunate alone,
But learn by Others Woes, to bear thine own.—
—The Chief
With Words of Comfort sooths the common Grief:—
O Friends! he cries, experienc'd in Distress,
Much worse have We endur'd:—
And Heav'n will likewise put an End to this.
Courage assume: ev'n this Affliction, past,
May in Remembrance yield Us Joy at last.
With manly Patience bear your present State,
And save your selves to meet a better Fate.—
With Words of Comfort sooths the common Grief:—
O Friends! he cries, experienc'd in Distress,
Much worse have We endur'd:—
And Heav'n will likewise put an End to this.
Courage assume: ev'n this Affliction, past,
May in Remembrance yield Us Joy at last.
With manly Patience bear your present State,
And save your selves to meet a better Fate.—
If so the Gods
my Overthrow ordain,
And the fierce Victor chace me o'er the Plain,
Thou shalt be left me still, my better Part,
To sooth my Cares, and heal my broken Heart:
Thy open Arms I shall be sure to meet,
And fly with Pleasure to the dear Retreat.—
And the fierce Victor chace me o'er the Plain,
Thou shalt be left me still, my better Part,
To sooth my Cares, and heal my broken Heart:
Thy open Arms I shall be sure to meet,
And fly with Pleasure to the dear Retreat.—
No Day is drench'd with such perpetual Rain,
But that some Intermission glads the Plain:
No barren Soil's so bad, but that it shows
Some useful Plant beneath it's Briars grows:
No Life's so fill'd with Woes, but that between
Some Gleams of Joy shine thro' the gloomy Scene.—
But that some Intermission glads the Plain:
No barren Soil's so bad, but that it shows
Some useful Plant beneath it's Briars grows:
No Life's so fill'd with Woes, but that between
Some Gleams of Joy shine thro' the gloomy Scene.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |