'Twas the the parent, to the Latian fhore Through various dangers Troy's remainder bore. And winning her, the Latian empire won. Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before, In rural feats the foul of pleasure reigns;. The life of beauty fills the rural scenes ; Ev'n love (if fame the truth of love declare) Drew first the breathings of a rural air. Some pleasing meadow pregnant beauty preft, - Now, Ecce, jam fuper geniftas explicant tauri latus. Quifque tuus quo tenetur conjugali fœdere. Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantûm gregem. Et canoras non tacere Diva juffit alites. Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cygni perstrepunt, Adfonat Terei puella fubter umbram populi, Ut putas motus amoris ore dici mufico, Et neges queri fororem de marito barbaro. Illa Now bulls o'er stalks of broom extend their fides, Runs o'er the water where he fails along; And from the poplar charms the lift'ning plain. It melts, it warbles, in her liquid throat. And all is filence till the Syren end. How Illa cantat: nos tacemus: quando ver venit meum ? Quando faciam ut celidon, ut tacere definam ? Perdidi musam tacendo, nec me Phoebus refpicit. Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet. How long in coming is my lovely spring? And filent lofe my rapt'rous hour of wit: HOMER's |