University of Virginia Library

The Fourth ELEGY of the Fourth Book of Tibullus.

Phoebus descend, thy radiant Lock's display'd,
Come and relieve the sweet complaining Maid.
Trust me, make Haste: She well deserves thy Care:
Who would not be Physician to the Fair?
Revive the fading Roses on her Cheek;
Revive the drooping Lillies on her Neck:
And far to Winds commit, and distant Seas
Each Rebel Atom that disturbs her Ease.
Come, Sacred Sire, and bring each pow'rful Juice,
Each pow'rful Sound thy double Skill can chuse.
Nor wound the Youth who mourns her doubtful State,
And with unnumber'd Vows wou'd bribe her Fate.
One while he prays: Anon, if she complains,
Distracted he blasphemes, and Heaven arraigns.
But fear no Foes, Cerinthus, from above:
The Gods will all befriend the Cause of Love.
Weep then no more; thy Tears were only Due,
Were she grown Cold, Indiff'rent, or Untrue:
But well thou know'st, for thee alone she lives;
Nor minds th' officious Crowd besides that grieves.
Propitious Phoebus! show'r thy Blessings down:
Preserve Two Lovers Lives in saving One.
So, when the grateful Pair their Praise shall join,
And hand in hand approach thy hallow'd Shrine,
The thronging Sanctities of Heaven shall own,
No Arts worth envying but Thine alone.