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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Passions.
See Doubt.
As Grief grows mutual, Joy produces Joy,
For Face to Face conveys strong Sympathy.
Wouldst Thou have me with Tears thy Sorrow share?
Weep first thyself, and let thy Woes appear:
'Tis then to soft Compassion I incline,
Then Fancy works, and thy Misfortune's mine.
For Face to Face conveys strong Sympathy.
Wouldst Thou have me with Tears thy Sorrow share?
Weep first thyself, and let thy Woes appear:
'Tis then to soft Compassion I incline,
Then Fancy works, and thy Misfortune's mine.
The Cholerick must rage, the Sad complain,
The Grave be serious, and the Frolick vain:
For Nature ever doth the Change begin,
The Mind inclines, and models Us within:
According to the various Turns of Fate,
She screws the Soul to an unusual Height,
And swells Us into Rage; or bending low,
She sinks us to the Dust with weighty Woe:
Then, as the Passions diff'rently prevail,
She makes the Tongue declare what inwardly we feel.—
Unless the Mind be purg'd, what Storms arise!
The Grave be serious, and the Frolick vain:
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The Mind inclines, and models Us within:
According to the various Turns of Fate,
She screws the Soul to an unusual Height,
And swells Us into Rage; or bending low,
She sinks us to the Dust with weighty Woe:
Then, as the Passions diff'rently prevail,
She makes the Tongue declare what inwardly we feel.—
What Dangers still appear before our Eyes!
The Man that's covetous how many Cares
Gall and torment, how many anxious Fears!
What Mischiefs, what dire Murders shall we find,
Where Pride, and Lust,—
Where Luxury, and Sloth, possess the Mind!—
The Man a nobler Empire gains,
That his own craving Will restrains,
Than he whose Sword and wide Command
Join distant Spain and Lybia's Land:
Than he whose far extended Sway,
Carthage both old and new obey.—
Alas! by diff'rent Passions I'm oppress'd!
Fierce Love and Hate contend within my Breast:
My Bosom they divide, but Love I fear
Will prove too strong, and gain a Conquest there.
I'll strive to hate Thee; but if that should prove
A fruitless Strife, spite of myself I'll love.
The Bull dislikes the galling Yoke, but still
He bears the Thing he hates, against his Will.
I hate, I fly Thee, faithless Fair! in vain,
Thy Beauty ever brings me back again,
Thou in my Heart wilt always find a Place:
I hate thy Humour, but I love thy Face.
No Rest I to my tortur'd Soul can give,
Nor with Thee, nor without Thee, can I live.
Oh! that thy Mind We in thy Face could view!
Less lovely that Thou wer't, or else more true!
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Thy Deeds forbid Us, but thy Eyes invite.
Thy Actions shock Us, while thy Beauty moves:
And He who hates thy Faults, thy Person loves.
Ah! happy, ever happy should I be,
If I no Charms, or no Defects could see.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |