the sister of justice, and undisguised truth, find any equal? He died lamented by many good men, but more lamented by none than you, O Virgil. You, though pious, alas! in vain demand Quintilius back from the Gods, who did not lend him to us on such terms. What though you could strike the lyre, listened to by the trees, with more sweetness than the Thracian Orpheus, yet the blood can never return to the empty shade, which Mercury, inexorable to reverse the fates, has, with his dreadful caduceus, once driven to the gloomy throng. This is hard: but every thing becomes more supportable by patience, which it is out of our power to amend.

ODE XXV.

TO LYDIA.

He takes occasion to insult her for her former haughtiness, and tells her, that she is now grown old, and, in return for her former insolence, forsaken by all the young men.

THE wanton sparks less violently shake your fastened windows with their redoubled raps; nor do they rob you of your rest; and your door, which formerly moved much its yielding hinges, now sticks lovingly to its threshold. Less and less do you now hear this serenade, "My Lydia, do you sleep the live-long night, while I your lover am dying?" Now you are an old woman, it will be your turn to bewail the insolence of rakes, when you are neglected in a lonely alley, while the Thra

cian wind rages at the Interlunium;* when that hot desire and lust, which is wont to render furious the dams of horses, shall rage about your ulcerous liver, not without complaint that sprightly youth rejoice rather in the verdant ivy and growing myrtle, and dedicate sapless leaves to Hebrus, the companion of winter.

ODE XXVI.

That free from all care and anxiety, he celebrates the praises of Lamia.

A FRIEND to the Muses, I will deliver up grief and fears to the wanton winds, to waft into the Cretan sea; being singularly careless, what king of a frozen region is dreaded under the pole, or what may give apprehensions to Tiridates. O sweet Muse, who art delighted with pure fountains, weave together the sunny flowers, weave a chaplet for my Lamia. Without thee my praises profit nothing. To render him immortal by new strains, to render him immortal by the Lesbian lyre, becomes both you and your sisters.

The intermediate space between new and full moon.

ODE XXVII.

TO HIS COMPANIONS.

That it is perfectly unseasonable to wrangle over their liquor.

To quarrel in your cups, which were made for joyous purposes, is downright Thracian. Away with the barbarous custom, and protect modest Bacchus from bloody frays. How immens ly disagreeable to wine and candles is the sabre of the Medes! O my companions, repress your horrible vociferations, and rest quietly on bended elbow. Would you have me also take my share of stout Falernian? Let the brother of Opuntian Megilla then declare, with what wound he is happy, with what dart he is dying.-What, do you refuse?-I will not drink upon any other condition. Whatever kind of passion rules you, it scorches you with flames you need not be ashamed of, and you always go a raking after an ingenuous love. Come on; whatever is your case, trust it to faithful ears. Ah, unhappy! in how great a Charybdis are you struggling, a youth worthy of a better flame! What witch, what magician with his Thessalian incantations, what deity can free you? Pegasus himself will scarce deliver you, so entangled, from this threefold chimera.

ODE XXVIII.

Under the form of a dialogue between a sailor and the ghost of Archytas, he ridicules the opinion of the Pythagoreans, and recommends the care of the burial of the dead.

THE want of the small present of a little sand near the Matinian shore confines thee, O Archytas, the surveyor of sea and earth, and the innumerable sand: nor is it of any advantage to you, a mere mortal, to have explored the celestial regions, and to have traversed the round world in your comprehensive imagination. Thus also did the father of Pelops, the guest of the Gods, die; and Tithonus, likewise, was translated to the skies, and Minos, though admitted to the secrets of Jupiter; and the Tartarean regions are possessed of the son of Panthous,* once more sent down to the receptacle of the dead, notwithstanding, having retaken his shield from the temple, he gave evidence of the Trojan times, and that he had given up to gloomy death nothing but his nerves and skin; and he is no inconsiderable judge of truth and nature in your opinion. But one night awaits all, and the road of death must once be travelled. The Furies give up some to the sport of horrible Mars: the sea is destructive to the avaricious sailors: the mingled funerals of young and old are crowded together: not one single person does the cruel Proserpine pass by. The south wind, the tempestuous attendant on the setting Orion, has sunk me also in the Illyrian waves. But do not

* Pythagoras.

thou, O sailor, malignantly grudge to give a portion of loose sand to my bones and unburied head. So, whatever the east wind shall threaten to the Italian sea, let the Venusinian woods suffer, while you are in safety; and may a manifold profit, from whatever port it may, come to you by favouring Jove, and Neptune, the defender of the consecrated Tarentum. But if you, by chance, make light of committing a crime, which will be hurtful to your innocent posterity, just laws and contemptuous treatment await you in your turn. I shall not be deserted with fruitless prayers; and no expiations shall atone for you. Though you are in a hurry, you need not tarry long; after having three times sprinkled the dust over me, you may proceed.

ODE XXIX.

TO ICCIUS.

He banters the young man for leaving his study of philosophy to become a soldier.

O Iccius, you now covet the opulent treasures of the Arabians, and are making vigorous preparations for a war against the kings of Saba, hitherto unconquered, and are forming chains for the formidable Mede. What barbarian virgin shall be your slave, after you have killed her betrothed husband? What boy from the court shall be made your cupbearer with his perfumed locks, skilled to direct the Serican arrows with his father's bow? Who will now deny that it is possible for precipitate rivers to flow back again to the high moun