 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
333
TO TORQUATUS.
HORACE, ODE VII. BOOK IV.
Snows are dissolved;—now herbage to the plain,
And foliage to the trees return again.
Earth's courses change, and with diminished tide
Along their banks the rivers gently glide.
The sister Graces, in the joyous dance,
Naked, together with the Nymphs, advance;—
The year, and rapid flight of pleasant day
Warn us that earthly things soon pass away.
To cold the zephyrs mitigation bring,
And summer follows close upon the spring,
Dying when fruitful autumn sheds his stores,
Then back comes sluggish winter to our shores.
And foliage to the trees return again.
Earth's courses change, and with diminished tide
Along their banks the rivers gently glide.
The sister Graces, in the joyous dance,
Naked, together with the Nymphs, advance;—
The year, and rapid flight of pleasant day
Warn us that earthly things soon pass away.
To cold the zephyrs mitigation bring,
And summer follows close upon the spring,
Dying when fruitful autumn sheds his stores,
Then back comes sluggish winter to our shores.
The waning moons their wasted lustre mend;
But when to nether regions we descend,
Where Tullus, Ancus, Æneas are laid,
Naught we become but mouldering dust and shade.
Who knoweth that the gods to-morrow's space,
In his brief sum of days, will give a place?
Good things of earth, that with a friend we share,
Escape the greedy clutches of an heir.
When once consigned, Torquatus, to the tomb,
And Minos shall have sealed our awful doom,
Nor eloquence, nor family, nor worth
Can you recall from darkness unto earth.
Not even Dian, back to life and light,
Can call Hippolitus from death and night.
And Theseus has no power in twain to rend
Hell's chain that fetters Pirithous, his friend.
But when to nether regions we descend,
Where Tullus, Ancus, Æneas are laid,
Naught we become but mouldering dust and shade.
Who knoweth that the gods to-morrow's space,
In his brief sum of days, will give a place?
Good things of earth, that with a friend we share,
Escape the greedy clutches of an heir.
When once consigned, Torquatus, to the tomb,
And Minos shall have sealed our awful doom,
Nor eloquence, nor family, nor worth
Can you recall from darkness unto earth.
Not even Dian, back to life and light,
Can call Hippolitus from death and night.
And Theseus has no power in twain to rend
Hell's chain that fetters Pirithous, his friend.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |