"O beauteous youth, how will ye dare to slight "The Muse, to whom Pierian streams belong? "Will ye not smile on poets, and delight, "More than all golden gifts, in gift of song? "Did not some song empurple Nisus' hair, "And bid young Pelops' ivory shoulder glow? "That youth the Muses praise, is he not fair, "Long as the stars shall shine or waters flow ? "But he who scorns the Muse, and will for gain "Surrender his base heart,--let his foul cries "Pursue the Corybants' infuriate train, "Through all the cities of the Phrygian plain,-- "Unmanned forever, in foul Phrygian guise! "But Venus blesses lovers who endear "Love's quest alone by flattery, by fear, "By supplication, plaint, and piteous tear." Such song the god of gardens bade me sing For Titius; but his fond wife would fling Such counsel to the winds: "Beware," she cried, "Trust not fair youth too far. For each one's pride "Offers alluring charms: one loves to ride "A gallant horse, and rein him firmly in; "One cleaves the calm wave with white shoulder bare; "One is all courage, and for this looks fair; "And one's pure, blushing cheeks thy praises win." Let him obey her! But my precepts wise Are meant for all whom youthful beauty's eyes Turn from in scorn. Let each his glory boast! Mine is, that lovers, when despairing most, My clients should be called. For them my door Stands hospitably open evermore. Philosopher to Venus I shall be, And throngs of studious youth will learn of me. Alas! alas! How love has been my bane! My cunning fails, and all my arts are vain. Have mercy, fair one, lest my pupils all Mock me, who point a path in which I fall! ELEGY THE FIFTH COUNTRY-LIFE WITH DELIA With haughty frown I swore I could employ Thine absence well. But all my pride is o'er! Now am I lashed, as when a madcap boy Whirls a swift top along the level floor. Aye! Twist me! Plague me! Never shall I say Such boast again. Thy scorn and anger spare! Spare me!--by all our stolen loves I pray, By Venus,--by thy wealth of plaited hair! Was it not I, when fever laid thee low, Whose holy rites and offerings set thee free? Thrice round thy bed with brimstone did I go, While the wise witch sang healing charms for thee. Lest evil dreams should vex thee, I did bring That worshipped wafer by the Vestal given; Then, with loose robes and linen stole, did sing Nine prayers to Hecate 'neath the midnight heaven. All rites were done! Yet doth a rival hold My darling, and my futile prayers deride: For I dreamed madly of a life all gold, If she were healed,--but Heaven the dream denied. A pleasant country-seat, whose orchards yield Sweet fruit to be my Delia's willing care, While our full corn-crop in the sultry field Stands ripe and dry! O, but my dreams were fair!