Poems on Various Subjects with some Essays in Prose, Letters to Correspondents, &c. and A Treatise on Health. By Samuel Bowden |
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| TRANSLATIONS FROM MARTIAL.
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 | Poems on Various Subjects |  |
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TRANSLATIONS FROM MARTIAL.
LIB. 1. Epigram 1. On Cæsar's Amphitheatre.
Gigantic wonders on the Memphian coast,Or Babel's towers no more let story boast:
No more let fame Diana's temple sound,
Or Delos' god with horned altars crown'd:
In vain romantic Carians idolize
Mansolus' tomb suspended in the skys;
Since Cæsar's pile superior praise shall claim,
And this alone employ each voice of fame.
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Epig. 6. On the Combat of a Woman with a Lion, in the Amphitheatre.
Not Mars alone, great Cæsar fights for you,In armor fierce, but Venus triumphs too.
In Nemæa's vale, let antient records tell,
How the dread lion by Alcides fell;
Your nobler shows eclipse the hero's fame,
For lo! a female arm performs the same.
Epig. 9. The RHINOCEROS.
Unusual games now entertain our sight:The vext Rhinoceros prepares for fight.
How did his anger kindle to the full?
How strong his horn, whose javelin was a bull?
Epig. 72. To the GOD of SLEEP.
With glasses seven Lucinda's name is crown'd,Diana's toast in five shall circle round;
Four are to Lucy, six to Sylvia due
Of bright champaigne, and three remain for Sue.
Thus health we send to every absent fair,
'Till thou, sweet sleep descend, to ease our care.
The Romans were wont to drink their Mistresses Health in as many Glasses as there were Letters in their Names.
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Epig. 74. To CECILIAN.
When free, and unrestrain'd, your wife was kept,No beaus approach'd her, and in peace you slept:
But guarded now, gallants unnumber'd rise,
Methinks, Cecilian, you are wond'rous wise!
LIB. 2. Epig. 90. To QUINCTILIAN.
Quinctilian! of capricious youth, bright guide,And of the Roman bar, the boast, and pride,
Tho' poor and old, yet wisdom cleaves to age,
And gilds each hour of life's declining page;
Time must be treasur'd while the lamp shall last,
For who can hasten to be wise too fast?
Let misers toil, who sordid wealth acquire,
And with rich furniture their seats attire.
Some smoaky cot I chuse, by whose green side
Thro' artless turf unlabour'd fountains glide.
A decent servant, an unlearned wife,
Sweet sleep at night, and days that know no strife.
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Epig. 59. The VIPER inclosed in Amber.
Where Amber tears the conscious poplar weeps,With sluggish pace, th' entangled Viper creeps:
Arrested in the liquid grave, in vain,
He twists, and struggles with the viscons chain;
With sudden cramp, and glewy fetters bound,
In captive gums, he stiffens all around.
Ægytian sepulchres let others prize,
Lodg'd in a nobler bed the viper lies,
And Cleopatra's splendid tomb outvies.
Epig. 60. On CURATIUS's Death.
When Cancer burns, we seek some rural seat,And some to Scarborough, some to Holt retreat.
Why blame we Tunbridge Wells for Curio's death,
Can sovereign waters save the hero's breath?
No place can fate exclude—when death has sent,
Its fatal shafts, even Bath becomes a Brent.
| Poems on Various Subjects | |