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SEEK not, for thou shalt not find it, what my end,
what thine shall be; Ask not of Chaldæa's science what God wills,
Leuconöe: Better far, what comes, to bear it. Haply many a
wintry blast Waits thee still ; and this, it may be, Jove ordains
to be thy last, Which flings now the flagging sea-wave on the
obstinate sandstone-reef. Be thou wise : fill up the wine-cup; shortening,
since the time is brief, Hopes that reach into the future. While I speak,
hath stol'n away Jealous Time. Mistrust To-morrow, catch the blos
som of To-day.
To A SHIP.
YET on fresh billows seaward wilt thou ride,
Is oarless all and bare,
And the swift south-west wind hath maimed thy mast,
On tyrannous sea-waves tossed
Too rudely. Goodly canvass is not thine,
Child of a stately forest
Boast'st rank and empty name: but little trust
By every wind in turn,
Flee—what of late sore burden was to me, Now a sad memory and a bitter pain,Those shining Cyclads flee,
That stud the far-off main.
UNSHAMED, unchecked, for one so dear
We sorrow. Lead the mournful choir,
Melpomene, to whom thy sire
Sleeps He the sleep that knows no morn ?
Oh Honour, oh twin-born with Right
Pure Faith, and Truth that loves the light, When shall again his like be born ?
Many a kind heart for Him makes moan;
Thine, Virgil, first. But ah! in vain
Thy love bids heaven restore again That which it took not as a loan :