To his young brows his own all-dazzling wreath. I therefore, although last and least, my place Among the learned in the laurel grove

Will hold, and where the conqu'ror's ivy twines,
Henceforth exempt from the unletter'd throng
Profane, nor even to be seen by such.

Away, then, sleepless Care, Complaint, away,
And, Envy, with thy "jealous leer malign !"
Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth
Her venom'd tongue at me. Detested foes!
Ye all are impotent against my peace,
For I am privileg'd, and bear my breast
Safe, and too high, for your viperean wound.

But thou my Father, since to render thanks
Equivalent, and to requite by deeds
Thy liberality, exceeds my power,
Suffice it, that I thus record thy gifts,

And bear them treasur'd in a grateful mind!
Ye too, the favourite pastime of my youth,
My voluntary numbers, if ye dare

To hope longevity, and to survive

Your master's funeral, not soon absorb'd

In the oblivious Lethæan gulf,

Shall to futurity perhaps convey

This theme, and by these praises of my sire
Improve the Fathers of a distant age!

ΤΟ

SALSILLUS, A ROMAN POET

MUCH INDISPOSED

The original is written in a measure called Scazon, which signifies limping, and the measure is so denominated, because, though in other respects Iambick, it terminates with a Spondee, and has consequently a more tardy movement.

The reader will immediately see that this property of the Latin verse cannot be imitated in English

My halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice along Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song,

And lik'st that pace, expressive of thy cares,

Not less than Diopeia's sprightlier airs,

When, in the dance, she beats, with measur'd tread, Heav'n's floor, in front of Juno's golden bed;

Salute Salsillus, who to verse divine

Prefers, with partial love, such lays as mine.
Thus writes that Milton then, who wafted o'er
From his own nest, on Albion's stormy shore,
Where Eurus, fiercest of the Æolian band,
Sweeps, with ungovern'd rage, the blasted land,
Of late to more serene Ausonia came
To view her cities of illustrious name,

To prove himself a witness of the truth,

How wise her elders, and how learn'd her youth. Much good, Salsillus! and a body free

From all disease, that Milton asks for thee, Who now endur'st the languor, and the pains, That bile inflicts, diffused through all thy veins, Relentless malady! not mov'd to spare

By thy sweet Roman voice, and Lesbian air!

Health, Hebe's sister sent us from the skies, And thou, Apollo, whom all sickness flies, Pythius, or Pæan, or what name divine Soe'er thou choose, haste, heal a priest of thine! Ye groves of Faunus, and ye hills, that melt With vinous dews, where meek Evander dwelt! If aught salubrious in your confines grow, Strive which shall soonest heal your poet's wo, That, render'd to the Muse he loves, again He may enchant the meadows with his strain. Numa, reclin'd in everlasting ease, Amid the shade of dark embow'ring trees, Viewing with eyes of unabated fire His lov'd Ægeria, shall that strain admire : So sooth'd, the tumid Tiber shall revere The tombs of kings, nor desolate the year, Shall curb his waters with a friendly rein, And guide them harmless, till they meet the main,

TO

GIOVANNI BATTISTA MANSO,

MARQUIS OF VILLA.

MILTON'S ACCOUNT OF MANSO.

Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, is an Italian nobleman of the highest estimation among his countrymen, for genius, literature, and military accomplishments. To him Torquato Tasso addressed his Dialogues on Friendship, for he was much the friend of Tasso, who has also celebrated him among the other Princes of his country, in his poem, entitled, Gerusalemme Conquistata, book xx.

Fra cavalier magnanimi, e cortesi,
Risplende il Manso.

During the Author's stay at Naples, he received at the hands of the Marquis a thousand kind offices and civilities, and, desirous not to appear ungrateful, sent him this poem a short time before his departure from that city.

THESE verses also to thy praise the Nine,
Oh Manso! happy in that theme, design,
For, Gallus and Maecenas gone, they see
None such besides, or whom they love as thee;
And, if my verse may give the meed of fame,
Thine too shall prove an everlasting name.
Already such, it shines in Tasso's page

(For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age,

And, next, the Muse consign'd (not unaware
How high the charge) Marino to thy care,
Who, singing to the nymphs, Adonis' praise,
Boasts thee the patron of his copious lays.
To thee alone the poet would entrust
His latest vows, to thee alone his dust;
And thou with punctual piety hast paid,
In labour'd brass, thy tribute to his shade.
Nor this contented thee-but lest the grave

Should aught absorb of theirs which thou couldst

save,

All future ages thou hast deign'd to teach

The life, lot, genius, character of each,
Eloquent as the Carian sage, who true

To his great theme, the life of Homer drew.

I, therefore, though a stranger youth, who come Chill'd by rude blasts, that freeze my northern home, Thee dear to Clio, confident proclaim,

And thine, for Phœbus's sake, a deathless name.
Nor thou, so kind, wilt view with scornful eye
A muse scarce rear'd beneath our sullen sky,
Who fears not, indiscreet as she is young,
To seek in Latium hearers of her song.

We too, where Thames with his unsullied waves
The tresses of the blue-hair'd Ocean laves,
Hear oft by night, or, slumb'ring, seem to hear,
O'er his wide stream, the swan's voice warbling clear,
And we could boast a Tityrus of yore,

Who trod, a welcome guest, your happy shore.

Yes-dreary as we own our Northern clime,
E'en we to Phoebus raise the polish'd rhyme,
We too serve Phoebus; Phoebus has receiv'd
(If legends old may claim to be believ'd)
No sordid gifts from us, the golden ear,
The burnish'd apple, ruddiest of the year,