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 |
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Time to be used.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Time to be used.
See Delay. Death to be remember'd. Opportunity.
Ev'n now, in bloom of Youth, and Beauty's Prime,
Beware of coming Age, nor waste your Time:
Now, while You may, and rip'ning Years invite,
Enjoy the seasonable, sweet Delight:
For rolling Years, like stealing Waters, glide,
Nor hope to stop their ever-ebbing Tide:
Think not, hereafter will the Loss repay,
For ev'ry Morrow will the Taste decay,
And leave less Relish than the former Day.
Beware of coming Age, nor waste your Time:
Now, while You may, and rip'ning Years invite,
Enjoy the seasonable, sweet Delight:
For rolling Years, like stealing Waters, glide,
Nor hope to stop their ever-ebbing Tide:
439
For ev'ry Morrow will the Taste decay,
And leave less Relish than the former Day.
The Snake his Skin, the Deer his Horns may cast,
And both renew their Youth and Vigour past:
But no Receipt can Humankind relieve,
Doom'd to decrepid Age without Reprieve.
Then crop the Flow'r which yet invites your Eye,
And which, ungather'd, on it's Stalk must die.—
And both renew their Youth and Vigour past:
But no Receipt can Humankind relieve,
Doom'd to decrepid Age without Reprieve.
Then crop the Flow'r which yet invites your Eye,
And which, ungather'd, on it's Stalk must die.—
The Flow'r of Youth decays and fades apace,
(Of our short Being 'tis the shortest Space!)
While the full Bowl with Pleasure circles round,
While we're perfum'd, and with gay Garlands crown'd,
While in the fair One's Arms entranc'd we lie,
Old Age creeps on us, e'er we think it nigh.—
(Of our short Being 'tis the shortest Space!)
While the full Bowl with Pleasure circles round,
While we're perfum'd, and with gay Garlands crown'd,
While in the fair One's Arms entranc'd we lie,
Old Age creeps on us, e'er we think it nigh.—
But if you wave your Hopes, and use Delays,
You're wrong, for happy Youth apace decays.
Alas, how swiftly flies away the Light!
Nor slowly moves the Day, nor wheels the Night:
How quickly fades the Earth, as Seasons slide,
Losing it's flow'ry Grace, and purple Pride!
How quickly does the tow'ring Poplar shed
The leafy Honours of it's beauteous Head!
Un-nerv'd by Age, how slothful lies the Horse,
Which flew, when young, in the Olympic Course!
I've known the Old desire their youthful Prime,
And wail their foolish Hours and ill-spent Time.
Ye cruel Gods! the Serpent can renew
His speckl'd Lustre, and his shining Hue:
But Beauty lost, our Art and Pow'r is vain,
E'er to renew the precious Prize again.—
You're wrong, for happy Youth apace decays.
Alas, how swiftly flies away the Light!
Nor slowly moves the Day, nor wheels the Night:
How quickly fades the Earth, as Seasons slide,
Losing it's flow'ry Grace, and purple Pride!
How quickly does the tow'ring Poplar shed
The leafy Honours of it's beauteous Head!
Un-nerv'd by Age, how slothful lies the Horse,
Which flew, when young, in the Olympic Course!
I've known the Old desire their youthful Prime,
And wail their foolish Hours and ill-spent Time.
Ye cruel Gods! the Serpent can renew
His speckl'd Lustre, and his shining Hue:
But Beauty lost, our Art and Pow'r is vain,
E'er to renew the precious Prize again.—
He, free and merrily may live, can say,
As the Day passes, I have liv'd to Day:
And for to Morrow little do I care,
Let the World's Ruler make it foul or fair.—
As the Day passes, I have liv'd to Day:
And for to Morrow little do I care,
Let the World's Ruler make it foul or fair.—
Cut off long Cares from thy contracted Span,
Nor stretch thy Hopes beyond the Reach of Man.
Now, while we speak, Time, envious, hastes away:
Trust not to morrow then, but seize the present Day.—
Nor stretch thy Hopes beyond the Reach of Man.
Now, while we speak, Time, envious, hastes away:
Trust not to morrow then, but seize the present Day.—
441
Where the white Poplar and the lofty Pine
Their friendly Branches inter-twine,
And hospitable Shades compose:
Where, near at Hand, a limpid River glides,
In winding Streams, and gently chides
The interrupting Pebbles as it flows:
There drink thy gen'rous Wine, thy Odours shed,
And short-liv'd Roses crown thy Head,
While Fortune, Time, and Fate permit:
For thou must soon resign thy Groves, thy House,
Thy Farm where yellow Tyber flows,
And all thy hoarded Wealth thy Heir shall get.—
Their friendly Branches inter-twine,
And hospitable Shades compose:
Where, near at Hand, a limpid River glides,
In winding Streams, and gently chides
The interrupting Pebbles as it flows:
There drink thy gen'rous Wine, thy Odours shed,
And short-liv'd Roses crown thy Head,
While Fortune, Time, and Fate permit:
For thou must soon resign thy Groves, thy House,
Thy Farm where yellow Tyber flows,
And all thy hoarded Wealth thy Heir shall get.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |