The Works of Tibullus Containing his Love-Elegies. Translated by Mr Dart. To which is added, The Life of the Author; with Observations on the Original Design of Elegiack Verse; and the Characters of the most Celebrated Greek, Latin and English Elegiack Poets |
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 | The Works of Tibullus |  |
ELEGY II.
Fierce was the Man who durst Loves Rites invade,And part the Youth from the desiring Maid;
Or his malicious subtle Arts employ,
To part the Maid from her enamour'd Boy:
180
To live divided from the much-lov'd Fair.
I own my self unable to sustain
A Grief like this, or bear the racking Pain.
Sorrow, an Ill no Courage can controul,
Divides the Heart, and quite unnerves the Soul.
I freely own the Ills to Love I owe,
A Life of Trouble, and a Scene of Woe.
Therefore when Death shall this fair Form invade,
And I shall shrink into an empty Shade;
When rising Flames have sunk the Funeral Pile,
And my white Bones the Load of Ashes Soil:
Before the Fire Neæra shall repair,
And weep around with long dishevel'd Hair;
With her, her Mother'll weeping come, the one
Shall mourn a Lover, t'other mourn a Son.
But first the Mother, and the sobbing Maid
Shall often call me, and invoke my Shade;
And having laid me decent on the Bier,
Wash my pale Corps with a religious Care.
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My Bones, the All of me, can then be found;
Array'd in Mourning Robes, the sorrowing Pair
Shall gather all around with pious Care;
With Ruddy Wine the Relicks sprinkle o'er,
And snowy Milk on the Collections pour;
Then with fair Linnen Cloths the Moisture dry,
In-urn'd in some cold Marble Tomb to lie;
With them inclose the Spices, Sweets, and Gums
And all that from the soft Arabia comes,
And what Assyria's wealthy Confines send,
And Tears, an Off'ring to my Mem'ry lend;
In such a Manner let me be intomb'd,
When shrunk to Ashes, and to Dust consum'd;
Then let some Elegy in Letters fair,
The mournful Cause that wrought my Death declare.
Let Characters upon the Marble tell
In this sad Verse, the Reason why I fell.
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Grief, and Neæra wrought the fatal Doom;
Soon as his Mistress had her Faith betray'd,
He dy'd, and could not live without the Maid.
| The Works of Tibullus | |