Might I perform the Judge's part, The sentence I should scarce deplore; It only would restore a heart, Which but belong'd to _thee_ before. 7. The least atonement I can make Is to become no longer free; Henceforth, I breathe but for thy sake, Thou shalt be _all in all_ to me. 8. But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject Such expiation of my guilt; Come then--some other mode elect? Let it be death--or what thou wilt. 9. Choose, then, relentless! and I swear Nought shall thy dread decree prevent; Yet hold--one little word forbear! Let it be aught but banishment. [Footnote 1: This title first appeared in "Contents" to 'P. on V. Occasions'.] [Footnote 2: The occurrence took place at Southwell, and the beautiful lady to whom the lines were addressed was Miss Houson, who is also commemorated in the verses "To a Vain Lady" and "To Anne." She was the daughter of the Rev. Henry Houson of Southwell, and married the Rev. Luke Jackson. She died on Christmas Day, 1821, and her monument may be seen in Hucknall Torkard Church.] [Footnote 3: This word is used by Gray in his poem to the Fatal Sisters:-- "Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air."] [Footnote i: 'near thy charms'. [4to. 'P. on V. Occasions'.]] TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM. Equal to Jove that youth must be-- _Greater_ than Jove he seems to me-- Who, free from Jealousy's alarms, Securely views thy matchless charms; That cheek, which ever dimpling glows, That mouth, from whence such music flows, To him, alike, are always known, Reserv'd for him, and him alone. Ah! Lesbia! though 'tis death to me, I cannot choose but look on thee; But, at the sight, my senses fly, I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die; Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres, My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, My limbs deny their slight support; Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread, With deadly languor droops my head, My ears with tingling echoes ring, And Life itself is on the wing; My eyes refuse the cheering light, Their orbs are veil'd in starless night: Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, And feels a temporary death. TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS, BY DOMITIUS MARSUS. He who, sublime, in epic numbers roll'd, And he who struck the softer lyre of Love, By Death's _unequal_[1] hand alike controul'd, Fit comrades in Elysian regions move! [Footnote: 1. The hand of Death is said to be unjust or unequal, as Virgil was considerably older than Tibullus at his decease.] IMITATION OF TIBULLUS. SULPICIA AD CERINTHUM (LIB. QUART.). Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell disease [i] Which racks my breast your fickle bosom please? Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain, That I might live for Love and you again; But, now, I scarcely shall bewail my fate: By Death alone I can avoid your hate.