An viduae metuens ne cui tingatur ocellus
Caelibe constituis condicione teri?
Si sine prole ereptus eris, te maxima terra
Fleverit, ut coniux coniugis orba viri.
Vt vidua aeterno te fleverit illa dolore
Nulla sibi quod sit forma relicta tui;
Cum viduae liceat privatis aedibus omni
In natorum oculis commeminisse patrem. Aspice, in urbe nepos rem perdit siquis, easdem Translatas alio possidet orbis opes;
Formae quod periit per totum perditur orbem,
Quique habet utendi nescius, ille necat.
Nil alios erga sedet huic in corde benignum
Qui struit in sese tam furiale nefas.
Proh pudor! esse nega cordi mortalia cuncta
Iam tibi, negligitur cui tua summa salus.
A multis fateor te, si placet illud, amari,
Nil at amari a te iam manifesta fides.
Sic odium crudele in te dominatur, ut ultro
In caput irasci non vereare tuum!
Tuque venusta paras ea vertere tecta ruina
Quae reparandi in te iustior ardor erat!
O animum mutes ut probrum desit; an ira
Dignior hospitio est quam generosus amor?
Sis animo quod es ore tuis, humanus amansque,
Vel minimum in tete consule iusta, puer.
Alterum-amans oro-te gigne, nec aurea forma
Intereat nobis, seu tua, sive tui.
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay:
If all were minded so, the times should cease
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish:
Look, whom she best endow'd she gave thee more;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green, all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Quam cito per senium marces, in prole vicissim
Crescis, ubi partem severis ipse tui;
Quodque in flore tuo vegeti das sanguinis, illud
Crede tuum, iuvenis cum tibi rapta dies.
Providet hoc formae generique; hoc deme, relicta est
Stultitia, et senii marcor, inersque gelu.
Mens tua si cunctis, hic rerum desinat ordo,
Binaque post hominum saecula desít homo.
Is sine prole cadat quem non natura creando
Destinat, informem corpore, mente rudem.
Quaere quibus donet largissima, largius omne
Dat tibi, tu dando dona tuere deae.
Te sibi in exemplar sculpsit, pluresque volebat
Sculpere te, posset ne bona forma mori.
Si numero pulsus horae momenta notantes
Seu video in nigra nocte perire diem;
Purpura me violae marcescens sicubi movit
Nigrave caesaries sparsa colore nivis;
Si mihi celsa arbor foliis spoliata videtur
Quae modo contra aestus texerat una gregem,
Seu vehitur plaustro spicis in mergite vinctis
Cana rigens, viruit quae modo verna seges;
Tum mihi cura tua de forma multa recursat,
Tu quod, ubi tempus cetera vastat, eas.
Omnia namque solent formosa ac dulcia sese
Linquere, dumque vident altera nata mori.
Temporis et falcem fugiet res una, propago,
Sospes, ubi victum te quoque tempus habet.
O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are
No longer yours than you yourself here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
Yourself again after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold Against the stormy gusts of winter's day And barren rage of death's eternal cold? O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know You had a father; let your son say so.
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or
say with princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art,
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
O utinam posses tuus esse! at posse negatur
Id tibi post spatium perbreve, care, morae.
Consule in hunc igitur venturum, consule, finem,
Ac speciem nato trade, venuste, tuam.
Sic tibi finitum in tempus iam credita forma
Fit tua, nec iuris terminus ulla dies.
Progenies formam referet si pulchra paternam,
Tu tua post etiam funera vivus eris.
Et quis homo patitur formosa putrescere tecta
Queis modica a cura perpetuetur honos?
Quisve ea non firmat brumas ac flamina contra
Mortisque in rabiem perpetuumque gelu?
O, nisi socordes, nemo; tu, care, creatus
Es patre, fac suboles ut tua dicat idem.
Si non aetheriis prudentia fluxit ab astris
Vlla mihi, astrologum me tamen esse reor.
Non equidem novi sit sors bona, necne, futura,
An sitis, an febris, candida, necne, dies.
Non ego momentis sua fata volantibus edo,
Quid tonitru aut ventus, quidve minetur hiems.
Non ego vaticinor quo vertat regibus annus,
Saepe requirendo praescia signa poli.
Ex oculis mea cuncta tuis prudentia fluxit,
Ars mea sunt oculi, sidera certa, tui.
Inde lego fidei et formae quae
destinet aetas,
Haud tibi sed generi si studuisse velis.
Nolueris, de teque hoc auguror; ipse peribis,
Et periere illo forma fidesque die.
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