THE SAME. O quam mox pede candido Nocturnis saliam Mænas in orgiis, Jactans roscidum in æthera Cervicem; veluti pulsa virentibus Mollis damula pascuis, Circumjecta super cum levis arduo Saltu retia fugerit; At clamore canes urgeat insequens Venator; ruat illa vi Ventorum citior per cava vallium, Hoc orem Superos; nihil Hôc majus dederint, quam caput hosticum Victrici ut teneam manu: Virtutis merito nil pretiosius. Segnes, at memores tamen Irarum Superi; serius ocyus Ultores caput impium Captant insidiis, supplicio premunt. Do not thou deem thyself wiser than the laws; From the great God they flow, from th' Almighty Cause. It costs not much to fear, To honour and revere, What custom hath received, What man hath aye believed, Whate'er his essence be, The name of Deity. Who his foe vanquishes, he is blest indeed, He is wise, God-beloved: sweet is honour's meed. Blest is he, who escaped from a troubled sea, The fates to human kind Have different dooms assign'd Some stand, while others fall: Yet hope remains to all, Which oft success portends, Oft in delusion ends: But of all happiness, his the most I praise, Who can win present joy from the passing days. Divis credere tutius: Numen, quicquid id est, sæcla Lex naturaque consecrat: per omnia His parere decet; plus sapere est furor. Felix, post mare turbidum Quem portus recipit, quem recreat quies Victis grata laboribus. Est ut sorte bonâ vir superet virum ; At spes usque oriens nova Nunc fructus habeat, nunc cadat irrita : Cunctis ille beatior, Cui jucundi aliquid quæque ferat dies. FROM MACBETH. Old M. Three score and ten I can remember well; Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night Rosse. Ah, good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day, dark night strangles the travelling lamp. And yet Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame, When living light should kiss it? Old M. "Tis unnatural, E'en like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. Rosse. And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange and certain,) Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, THE SAME TRANSLATED. ΓΕΡ. Ἐγὼ μὲν ἑξήκοντα καὶ δέχ ̓ ἡλίου τροπὰς κατείδον, δεινά τ' ἐν μέσῳ χρόνῳ θαύμαστά τ' ἔργα· τήνδε δ ̓ εὐφρόνην πάρα ἅπαντα τἄλλα λῆρος. ῬΟΣΣ. ΓΕΡ. Οὐχ ὁρᾷς, γέρον, ἃ νῦν ταραχθεὶς φοινίῳ βροτῶν γένει Ὑπερφυῆ μὲν οὖν, ὅμοια τοῖς πραχθεῖσι. καί τιν' ἄρτι δὴ γλαὺξ εὐτελὴς μάρψασ' ὄνυξιν ὤλεσεν. ῬΟΣΣ. πωλοί τ ̓ ἄνακτος, (οὐδ ̓ ἀπιστῆσαί σε χρὴ,) T καλοὶ, ποδάρκεις, ἄνθος ἔκκριτον γένους, ἔξω σταθμών εῤῥηξαν ἠγριωμένοι, |