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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Wish.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Wish.
See Midas. Prayers.
Me may the Muses, whose vow'd Priest I am,
Smit with strong Passion for their sacred Song,
Dear above all to me, accept: and teach
The heav'nly Roads, the Motions of the Stars,
The Sun's Defects, the Labours of the Moon:
Whence Tremor to the Earth: by what Impulse
The Sea swells high, and ebbing back retires:
Why Suns in Winter haste so swift to tinge
Themselves in Ocean: and what Cause retards
The sluggish Nights.—But if the colder Blood
About my Heart forbid me to approach
So near to Nature: may the rural Fields,
And Streams, which murm'ring glide along the Vales,
Delight me: Groves, and Rivers may I love,
Obscure, inglorious.—
Smit with strong Passion for their sacred Song,
Dear above all to me, accept: and teach
The heav'nly Roads, the Motions of the Stars,
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Whence Tremor to the Earth: by what Impulse
The Sea swells high, and ebbing back retires:
Why Suns in Winter haste so swift to tinge
Themselves in Ocean: and what Cause retards
The sluggish Nights.—But if the colder Blood
About my Heart forbid me to approach
So near to Nature: may the rural Fields,
And Streams, which murm'ring glide along the Vales,
Delight me: Groves, and Rivers may I love,
Obscure, inglorious.—
—O! in Hæmus' Vallies cool
Who places me, and covers me with shade
Of thickest Trees, embow'ring?—
Look round the habitable World, how few
Who places me, and covers me with shade
Of thickest Trees, embow'ring?—
Know their own Good: or knowing it, pursue.
How void of Reason are our Hopes and Fears!
What, in the Conduct of our Life, appears
So well design'd, so luckily begun,
But, when we have our Wish, we wish undone?—
For what do You imagine that I care?
What think You is the Subject of my Pray'r?
Be my Estate just what it is, or less,
'Twill still be large enough for Happiness!
And grant I may, if Heav'n more Years will give,
Live to myself, the Time I have to live!
Let me have Books, and Food to serve a Year,
Lest I should wav'ring hang 'twixt Hope and Fear!
What think You is the Subject of my Pray'r?
Be my Estate just what it is, or less,
'Twill still be large enough for Happiness!
And grant I may, if Heav'n more Years will give,
Live to myself, the Time I have to live!
Let me have Books, and Food to serve a Year,
Lest I should wav'ring hang 'twixt Hope and Fear!
This, this is all, for which Mankind should pray,
And beg of JOVE: who gives, and takes away.
Let him but Life, and mod'rate Plenty find,
And I'll provide my self an happy Mind.—
My Fortune might I form at Will,
And beg of JOVE: who gives, and takes away.
Let him but Life, and mod'rate Plenty find,
And I'll provide my self an happy Mind.—
My Canvas, Zephyrs soft, should fill
With gentle Breath: lest ruder Gales
Crack the Main-Yard, or burst the Sails.
By Winds, that temperately blow,
My Barque should pass secure and slow:
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But smoothly cleave the unruffled Tide.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |