Since none does more to Phoebus owe, Those arts which you so early know. 33 XXV. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND MR. EVELYN, UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF LUCRETIUS. LUCRETIUS, (with a ftork-like fate, But chance, and atoms, make this All Where bodies freely run their course, Of heav'n and earth, and feas and stars, Till his free Mufe threw down the pale, So vaft this argument did feem, A tongue too narrow to unfold The wonders which he would have told. 20 23 30 All that he writ, and all he thought. Ovid tranflated, Virgil too, Shew'd long fince what our tongue could do: Nor Lucan we, nor Horace fpar'd; 35 Only Lucretius was too hard : Volume 11. 40 44 D XXVI. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND SIR THO. HIGGONS, Upon his tranflation of THE VENETIAN TRIUMPH. THE winged Lion's * not fo fierce in fight, As Liberi's hand prefents him to our fight; Nor would his pencil make him half so fierce, Or roar fo loud, as Bufinello's veríe : But your tranflation does all three excel, The fight, the piece, and lofty Bufinel. As their small gallies may not hold compare With our tall ships, whofe fails employ more air; So does th' Italian to your genius vail, Mov'd with a fuller and a nobler gale. 5 ΤΟ Thus while your Mufe spreads the Venetian story, You make all Europe emulate her glory: 15 You make them blush weak Venice should defend *The arms of Venice. And then you might our own high deeds recite, XXVII. TO A FRIEND, OF THE DIFFERENT SUCCESS OF THEIR LOVES. 22 THRICE happy Pair! of whom we cannot know Sure love 's an art beft practised at first, And where th' experienced ftill profper worst! The haughty Cælia, till my just disdain A heart directed to a nobler love. ΙΟ 16 The fcales are turn'd, her kindness weighs no more 20 But there, from heav'n the blue ey'd virgin * falls, In love the victors from the vanquish'd fly; 25 They fly that wound, and they pursue that die. 28 XXVIII. TO ZELINDA. AIREST piece of well-form'd earth! The pow'r which you have o'er us lies "None but a Prince!"-Alas! that voice Confines you to a narrow choice. Should you no honey vow to taste, But what the master-bees have plac'd A portion to your fhare would fall? Worthy the stock from whence they grew. Ip trees, thro' all the boughs is spread; * Minerva. ΤΟ |