 | Later Lyrics |  |
110
LATIN.
Here amid shadows, lovingly embracing,
Dropt from above by apple-trees unfruitful,
With a chance scholar, caught and held to help me,
Read I in Horace;
Dropt from above by apple-trees unfruitful,
With a chance scholar, caught and held to help me,
Read I in Horace;
Lost in the figures, lawless in the metrum,
Piecing the classic phrase with homespun English,
Bridging doubtful meanings with such daring fictions
As move his wonder.
Piecing the classic phrase with homespun English,
Bridging doubtful meanings with such daring fictions
As move his wonder.
Dust lay condensed on the covers lexiconic,—
Tacitus above stairs, quasi sub-neglected,
Very little progress since I saw your godship,
Day to be remembered!
Tacitus above stairs, quasi sub-neglected,
Very little progress since I saw your godship,
Day to be remembered!
111
Avè, sweet Horace, all thy wonder graces
(Soul of perfection, with a change of rainbows)
Less must delight me than thy fervent nature,
Foremost in friendship.
(Soul of perfection, with a change of rainbows)
Less must delight me than thy fervent nature,
Foremost in friendship.
“We with one bound will pursue the silent journey:
Ibimus, ibimus,—let one urn contain us!”
Which would survive, to choke Love's glowing embers
With Life's gray ashes?
Ibimus, ibimus,—let one urn contain us!”
Which would survive, to choke Love's glowing embers
With Life's gray ashes?
Happy thy Mæcenas! happier thou to praise him,
Twining thy best beauties round the brow thou lovest:
Oh! to nobly name whom the deep heart doth worship
Is a boon most holy.
Twining thy best beauties round the brow thou lovest:
Oh! to nobly name whom the deep heart doth worship
Is a boon most holy.
Yonder by the high-road, from the post-town leading,
Cometh at seasons a worn and dusty carriage:
Two white bony horses, rudely loricated,
Drag it behind them.
Cometh at seasons a worn and dusty carriage:
Two white bony horses, rudely loricated,
Drag it behind them.
112
In the carriage mostly come my born relations,
Very keen to see me in the rural season;
Board and bedding gratis, compliments at parting:
“Come again next summer.”
Very keen to see me in the rural season;
Board and bedding gratis, compliments at parting:
“Come again next summer.”
Oh! if one I knew of hastened down the high-road,
Like a heaven-sent angel, present to petition,
Would I sit searching thy disjointed meanings,
Horace the Dainty?
Like a heaven-sent angel, present to petition,
Would I sit searching thy disjointed meanings,
Horace the Dainty?
Should I not then fling far the well-bound volume,
Decent in sheep-skins thou wert never blest with?
For this heart of mine, high leaping, wild rejoicing,
Then would be the poet.
Decent in sheep-skins thou wert never blest with?
For this heart of mine, high leaping, wild rejoicing,
Then would be the poet.
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