University of Virginia Library

Translation. TO MY VERY LEARNED FRIEND DR. ANDREWS.

CONCERNING A PRINTED BOOK, WHICH, WHEN IT WAS BORROWED BY HIM, WAS TORN TO PIECES AT HIS HOUSE BY THE CHILDREN, AND AFTERWARDS RETURNED IN MANUSCRIPT.

Damp from the press is born the current book,
But manuscripts wear a more reverent look.
To the Seine Mœnus passed, to Louis' home,
From thence to Frankfort, in thy hands to roam.
The book which, dyed with printers' ink, is thrust
On shelves abandoned to the moths and dust,
If writ with pen it reach us, is respected,
And straight in ancient fathers' chests protected.
Apollo must explain how boys can pour
On a new book long years and aspect hoar.
No wonder that a doctor's sons we see
Able to give new book new destiny.
If boys make old the recent, their sire's art
To me an old man may new youth impart.
Ah, poor old men! harsh age turns us, forsooth,
To second childhood all, ne'er one to youth.
'Tis Thy prerogative, Ancient of Days,
With life and youth to crown who on Thee gaze.
The weariness of this frail life meanwhile
With books and love heaven-during we beguile;
Mid which that little book thou dost restore
Ne'er was so dear, so much my own, before.