 | Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow |  |
88
TO VIRGIL.
Companions of the Spring, that lull the sea,Now the soft airs of Thrace the sails impel:
Now not the meads are frozen, nor rivers swell,
Loud with the snows of winter, down the lea.
Her nest she puts, that Itys weeping cries,
The hapless bird, of the Cecropian name
The sad reproach for ever, that ill she came
T' avenge barbarian kings' impieties.
Laid on the tender grass, at listless ease,
The shepherds of fat flocks their music rear;
And charm the God, to whom the herd is dear,
Whom the dark hills of his Arcadia please.
The season hath brought thirst; but if you think
To quaff the generous wine at Cales press'd,
O Virgil, by the noble youth caress'd,
Then purchase with sweet nard the pleasing drink.
89
A cask, which in Sulpician barns is laid,
Rich to produce new hope, and full of aid
To wash away the bitterness of care.
These joys if you delight in, quickly come
With merchandise of price: I have no thought
To steep you in my laughing cups for nought,
As the rich man in his abundant home.
But losing dreams of wealth, that poor deceit;
Mindful of the dark fires, whilst yet you may,
Mix a short folly with your studious day:
To trifle as the fool in place is sweet.
| Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | |