| |
| | Accept these grateful tears! for thee they flow, |
| For thee, that ever felt another’s woe! |
| 1 |
| | All, soon or late, are doom’d that path to tread. |
| 2 |
| | And endless are the modes of speech, and far |
| Extends from side to side the field of words. |
| 3 |
| | And every eye |
| Gaz’d as before some brother of the sky. |
| 4 |
| | And rest at last where souls unbodied dwell, |
| In ever-flowing meads of Asphodel. |
| 5 |
| | And taste |
| The melancholy joys of evils pass’d, |
| For he who much has suffer’d, much will know. |
| 6 |
| | Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends, |
| And swell’d with tempests on the ship descends; |
| White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud |
| Howl o’er the masts, and sing through every shroud: |
| Pale, trembling, tir’d, the sailors freeze with fears; |
| And instant death on every wave appears. |
| 7 |
| | But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast, |
| For gentle ways are best. |
| 8 |
| | But strong of limb |
| And swift of foot misfortune is, and, far |
| Outstripping all, comes first to every land, |
| And there wreaks evil on mankind, which prayers |
| Do afterwards redress. |
| 9 |
| | For when two |
| Join in the same adventure, one perceives |
| Before the other how they ought to act; |
| While one alone, however prompt, resolves |
| More tardily and with a weaker will. |
| 10 |
| | Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above |
| With ease can save each object of His love; |
| Wide as His will, extends His boundless grace. |
| 11 |
| | He ceas’d; but left so pleasing on their ear |
| His voice, that list’ning still they seem’d to hear. |
| 12 |
| | He slept an iron sleep,— |
| Slain fighting for his country. |
| 13 |
| | I hate |
| To tell again a tale once fully told. |
| 14 |
| | Jove lifts the golden balances that show |
| The fates of mortal men, and things below. |
| 15 |
| | Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales, |
| And the good suffers while the bad prevails. |
| 16 |
| | Know from the bounteous heavens all riches flow; |
| And what man gives, the gods by man bestow. |
| 17 |
| | Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,— |
| Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; |
| Another race the following spring supplies; |
| They fall successive; and successive rise. |
| 18 |
| | No living man can send me to the shades |
| Before my time; no man of woman born, |
| Coward or brave, can shun his destiny. |
| 19 |
| | O friends, be men, and let your hearts be strong, |
| And let no warrior in the heat of fight |
| Do what may bring him shame in others’ eyes; |
| For more of those who shrink from shame are safe |
| Than fall in battle, while with those who flee |
| Is neither glory nor reprieve from death. |
| 20 |
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| |
| | O friends, be men; so act that none may feel |
| Ashamed to meet the eyes of other men. |
| Think each one of his children and his wife, |
| His home, his parents, living yet or dead. |
| For them, the absent ones, I supplicate, |
| And bid you rally here, and scorn to fly. |
| 21 |
| | O Thou, whose certain eye foresees |
| The fix’d event of fate’s remote decrees. |
| 22 |
| | O woman, woman, when to ill thy mind |
| Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend. |
| 23 |
| | Persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs, |
| Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes. |
| 24 |
| | Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, |
| The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god. |
| 25 |
| | The chance of war |
| Is equal, and the slayer oft is slain. |
| 26 |
| | The ruins of himself! now worn away |
| With age, yet still majestic in decay. |
| 27 |
| | The rule |
| Of the many is not well. One must be chief |
| In war and one the king. |
| 28 |
| | The son of Saturn gave |
| The nod with his dark brows. The ambrosial curls |
| Upon the Sovereign One’s immortal head |
| Were shaken, and with them the mighty mount, |
| Olympus trembled. |
| 29 |
| | Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged race, |
| Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace. |
| 30 |
| | Thou wilt lament |
| Hereafter, when the evil shall be done |
| And shall admit no cure. |
| 31 |
| | ’Tis true; ’tis certain; man though dead retains |
| Part of himself; the immortal mind remains. |
| 32 |
| | To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress’d, |
| In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless’d. |
| 33 |
| | True friendship’s laws are by this rule express’d, |
| Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. |
| 34 |
| | What mighty woes |
| To thy imperial race from woman rose. |
| 35 |
| | Whatever day |
| Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away. |
| 36 |
| | Who dares think one thing, and another tell, |
| My heart detests him as the gates of hell. |
| 37 |
| | Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, |
| And asks no omen but his country’s cause. |
| 38 |
| | Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow |
| For other’s good, and melt at other’s woe. |
| 39 |
| A decent boldness ever meets with friends. | 40 |
| A generous heart repairs a slanderous tongue. | 41 |
| A heaven of charms divine Nausicaa lay. | 42 |
| Achilles absent, was Achilles still. | 43 |
| Ah, youth! forever dear, forever kind. | 44 |
| And for our country ’tis a bliss to die. | 45 |
| And o’er the past oblivion stretch her wing. | 46 |
| And what he greatly thought he nobly dared. | 47 |
| And what so tedious as a twice-told tale. | 48 |
| Base wealth preferring to eternal praise. | 49 |
| Content to follow when we lead the way. | 50 |
| Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind. | 51 |
| Even the fool is wise after the event. | 52 |
| Far from the gay cities, and the ways of men. | 53 |
| For never, never wicked man was wise. | 54 |
| For too much rest itself becomes a pain. | 55 |
| He, from whose lips divine persuasion flows. | 56 |
| Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall. | 57 |
| How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise! | 58 |
| I live an idle burden to the ground. | 59 |
| If not yet lost to all the sense of shame. | 60 |
| Ill fares the State where many masters rule; let one be lord, one king supreme. | 61 |
| In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare! | 62 |
| Labor conquers all things. | 63 |
| Light is the task when many share the toil. | 64 |
| No season now for calm, familiar talk. | 65 |
| Noblest minds are easiest bent. | 66 |
| Not all Apollo’s Pythian treasures hold can bribe the poor possession of a day. | 67 |
| One rogue leads another. | 68 |
| Reproach is infinite, and knows no end. | 69 |
| Shame greatly hurts or greatly helps mankind. | 70 |
| She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen. | 71 |
| Short is my date, but deathless my renown. | 72 |
| Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes. | 73 |
| Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave. | 74 |
| So ends the bloody business of the day. | 75 |
| Soft as some song divine, thy story flows. | 76 |
| Such is the chance of war. | 77 |
| Sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, unwakeful, most pleasant, the nearest like death. | 78 |
| The bitter dregs of Fortune’s cup to drain. | 79 |
| The force of union conquers all. | 80 |
| The Grecian ladies counted their age from their marriage, not their birth. | 81 |
| The matchless Ganymede, divinely fair. | 82 |
| The mildest manners and the gentlest heart. | 83 |
| The mildest manners with the bravest mind. | 84 |
| The sex is ever to a soldier kind. | 85 |
| The ugliest man was he who came to Troy; with squinting eyes and one distorted foot. | 86 |
| The windy satisfaction of the tongue. | 87 |
| These riches are posses’d, but not enjoy’d. | 88 |
| Too much rest itself becomes a pain. | 89 |
| Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear. | 90 |
| Will cast the spear and leave the rest to Jove. | 91 |
| Wine leads to folly, making even the wise to laugh immoderately, to dance, and to utter what had better have been kept silent. | 92 |
| Words sweet as honey from his lips distill’d. | 93 |
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