Ad Miltonum.

Miltone, vellem nunc qvoqve viveres :
Te nostra, te nunc postulat Anglia:
Qvae, more coenosae paludis,

Stagnat iners. Sine castitate

Qvid ara et ensis, pluma, focus, valent?
Qvo fugit aulae gloria? Qvo casae
Pax alma? Qvid priscae qvietis
Angliaci retinent penates?

Gens prava nobis consulimus. Redi et
Dilapsa prudens secla redintegra:
Da clara libertas, pudici

Da redeant sine labe mores,

Et vera virtus firmaqve viribus
Justis potestas. Mens tua lumine
Fulgebat, ut sidus, remoto;

Vox tua, ceu pelagi, sonabat:

Stabas aperto purior aethere,
Peiusqve leto servitium timens,
Sincera maiestas: Deiqve

Muneribus modicis fruentem

Tutum per omnes te tua sanctitas
Traduxit annos. Nec tamen inmemor
Qvid cuiqve deberes, in horas
Omnibus officiis vacabas.

Rosa fugitiva.

Clarissae faciem cur tantum lilia pingunt?
An coniugis naso rosas tradidit illa suas ?




The Recall.

Come again, come again!
Sunshine cometh after rain.
As a lamp fed newly burneth,
Pleasure, who doth fly, returneth,
Scattering every cloud of pain.

As the year, which dies in showers,
Riseth in a world of flowers,

Call'd by many a vernal strain,

Come thou, for whom tears were falling,
And a thousand tongues are calling;

Come again, oh come again!

Like the sunshine after rain.



Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


Dulces Reditus.

Redi, redi nunc; redditur sol imbribus peractis.
Ut lampas ignibus novis redintegrata flagrat,
Sic dissipatis nubibus fugax redit voluptas.
Ut, inter imbres qvi cadit, novus resurgit annus
Veris vocante florei canore, sic redi tu,

Qvem mile flerant lacrumae, vocantqve mile lingvae.
Redi, redi nunc, ut redit sol imbribus fugatis.


Musa vetat mori.

Ten' licet aestivae componere, vita, diei?
At tu temperie candidiore nites.
Maii deliciae flores rapiuntur ab Euris,
Et spatia aestati sors dedit arcta nimis.
Interdum nimio Titan fulgore calescit,
Aureus interdum deficit oris honor.
Pulcraqve nunc rerum vicibus, nunc turbine fati
Omnia mutantur, nec, velut ante, placent.
Sed tibi qvod pulcri est nullo defecerit aevo;
Luce neqve aestatis destituere tuae.
Nunqvam vana suis te Mors adscripserit umbris,
Sed tuus aeterno carmine crescet honos.
Dum spirant homines, oculi dum cernere possunt,
Vivit teqve vetat nostra Camena mori.



Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that loured upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.



On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st, while all around thee smiled:
So live, that sinking to thy life's last sleep,
Calm thou may'st smile, while all around thee weep.



Νῦν δὴ τὸ χεῖμα τῆς πάροιθ ̓ ἀλγηδόνος
εἰς λαμπρὸν αὖθις αὖ μετήλλακται θέρος,
ὡς ἡλίου φανέντος Οὐόρκου φάους·
στυγνὸν δ ̓ ὕπερθεν ὀφρύων καθήμενον
νέφος θαλάσσης ἐν βυθοῖσι κρύπτεται·
ἀμπισχόμεσθα νῦν κλάδων ἀνδήμασι
τοῖς καλλινίκοις κρᾶτας ἐξεστεμμένοι·
σιδηρότρωτα δ ̓ ἐν θεῶν ἀνακτόροις
κρεμαστὰ κεῖται τευχέων ἀγάλματα·
βοὴ δ' ἀπεχθὴς ἐξελήλαται μάχης
ὁμιλίας τερπναῖσιν ἐν μεταλλαγαῖς·
ὁδοὺς δ ̓ ἀπευκτοὺς ἐκδοχαὶ χορευμάτων
παύουσιν ἤδη στυγνὰ δ ̓ ὀφρύων Ἄρης
τοὐνθένδ ̓ ὁ δυσπρόσωπος ἐκλύει νέφη
καὶ νῦν τετρώροις οὐκέτ ̓ ἐμβαίνων ὄχοις
ἐχθρῶν ἀτλήτῳ θυμὸν ἐκπλήσσει φόβῳ,
χορῶν δ' ἐλαφροῖς ἅπτεται σκιρτήμασιν
ἐν παρθενῶσι μαλθακῆς λύρας ὕπο.

Ε. Μ. C.


Parvulus in gremio matris, modo natus inopsqve, Tu lacrumas, at sunt omnia laeta tuis.

Sic vivas, puer, ut, placida qvom morte recumbas, Omnia laeta tibi sint, lacrumaeque tuis.

T. W. P.

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