qui vos saltus habuere Puellae Naiades indigno cum Gallus amore periret Yet Propertius may give occasion to believe that he was slain in some Battel Gallum per medios ereptum Caesaris enses Effugere ignotas non potuisse manus But probably from both these expressions one may naturally gather that Cytharis to appease the jealousie of her new Lover was a contriver of his Death and hired some to kill him He was reputed an excellent Poet and was particularly curious in Elegies in which way of writing he was not held to be inferiour to either Tibullus or Propertius We have an account that he writ six Books of Elegies of which perhaps these six Elegies only are preserv'd to us and he also translated one Euphorion a Chalcidonian Poet which Virgil confirms Ibo Chalcidico quae sunt mihi condita versu Carmina Pastoris Siculi modulabor avena He writ four Books of his Love to Cytharis who he called Lycoris but none of them are left however Ovid takes notice of them and numbers him amongst the Catalogue of the most Famous Poets of the World particularly for that very Poem Gallus Hesperiis Gallus notus Eois â—t sua cum Gallo nota Lycoris erit And thus much of his Life and if I have done him that justice I aim'd at in this Translation I believe the Reader will not think his time lost in perusing it and if I fail'd in it I cannot help it now Farewell A Return of Thanks for the Translation of the following Elegies WE thank you for your Verse and hope to see From Age Impotence our Loves set free Whilst ancient Fops read here their certain shame They 'll wiser grow nor tempt again their Fame Renounce their Amber and the sacred Trust They plac'd in Drugs to prop their feeble Lust Read this you Limberhams who with delay And puther keep some abler Spark away Who use your Mistriss Chamber as your home And set your Chariot up where e'er you come Play-time and Park-time at the Door it stays You make no Visits 't is your Dwelling-place Here you may see how great a Wretch is one Who strives to please when all his power is gone Who can endure to see a Gallant thristy Old Ladies making Love and Boys at fifty Let Nestor wast his Itch in Tricks of State Or take it out in rubbing of his Pate Nor when Desire grows impotently strong Beg some forbidden Sight or luscious Song Let ev'ry one perform their proper Part Let Nature work nor make it up with Art Let Youth make Love ev'n Kisses call for Youth The palsy'd Head can never hit the Mouth CORINNA To the Ingenious TRANSLATOR OF CN CORNELIVS GALLVS SAD Nightingales melodiously complain And pleasant Notes disclose their inward pain The ancient Swan whom in his vigorous state Ev'n fancy'd Jove left Heav'n to imitate Viewing the Streams where he was wont to play Warbles a Sigh and sings his Life away Thus Gallus here the Dread of Grief destroys And sweetlier mourns than others tell their Joys His Sorrows Sir are so well tun'd by You The Readers pitty but they wonder too You snatch the Wretch from his depressing Fate And to the Envy of our Youth Translate Old Age â—n him do's no defects impart But seems best suited to the charming Art While gentle Maids with his soft Witchcraft caught Are fully pleas'd in a performing Thought Virgil methinks doats on his Friend anew Of Caesar once but since more Proud of You. In Fields below he beats his Reed again Despairs afresh and fills the Elysian Plain With endless Pastorals of Gallus's Disdain J. D. This ODE is thought to be writ by CN CORNELIUS GALLUS and in the Latin was added to the Six ensuing Elegies Therefore it may not be very much amiss to insert it here in English I. FAirest Lydia my Delight More then Milk and Lillies white Whose mix't Beauties do exceed The Damask Roses and the Red And seems more fair and smooth to be Then Goddesses of Ivorie II. Thy Locks thy shining Locks unsold Brighter far then burnish't Gold. Thy panting Breasts my Dear unclose Where Love delights to take Repose Of which I would to be possest Give all the Treasures of the East III. Ope thy Planet-Eyes my Dear For oh my Fate is written there Thence Love's pointed Arrows fly Swift as Stars shot through the Sky While above each Brow do's show Like a wanton Cupid's Bow. Shew me Maid the blushing Red Which thy lovely Cheeks o'er-spread Thy lovely Cheeks which can out-vie The most luxurious Tyrian die IV. With warm and Am'rous fury joyn Thy softest Coral Lips to mine Give me Kisses like a Dove Full of sweetness full of Love. But oh the Pleasure is so great My Soul crowds up the Joy to meet And at my Mouth would force a way Nor longer in the Body stay My Heart is pierc'd with every Kiss I cannot bear the mighty Bliss I pant I languish saint and dye With the transporting Ecstasy V. Gods what mighty Power is here Thou drain'st my Veins of Life my Dear Hide those Beauties from mine Eyes Eternal gazing won't suffize That tempting fragrant Bosome close Sweeter then the sweetest Rose More perfum'd and richer sar Then all th' Arabian Spices are VI. From ev'ry part of Thee arise Such Delights as would surprise Jove himself were he to be But so near as I to thee And so revenge his Semile VII Hide oh hide those Hills of Snow Which engage and wound me so Thy Beauty's Luxury is such I cannot gaze I cannot touch The Pleasure is too exquisite And I 'm glutted with Delight VIII Oh cruel and inhumane Fair Wilt thou then regard my Care To see me languish wilt thou stay Or kill me more and go away Gods but whither art thou flying Wilt thou leave me now I 'm dying Oh forsake forsake me not Till I 'm dead upon the spot ELEGIES ON Old Age. ELEGY I. The ARGUMENT In this Elegy under the representation of an Old Man the Poet seems to repine at Fate for imposing Life on him too long and aggravates the Miseries of his Age by giving a Character of himself as he was when young by the remembrance of those happy Days past after which he describes the several Diseases and inconveniencâ—es attending him now Old concluding the Elegy with a reflection on the happiness of those who dye before their Age becomes a burthen to them WHy envious Age do'st with a ling'ring stay My wasting Life to growing Pains betray And the kind Stroak of welcome Death delay Why wilt thou not inlarge my Soul to Ease And the vext Pris'ner from his Jayl release To me 't is worst of Punishments to live And Death alone a peacefull Rest can give Cold and Disease inhabit me all o'er And what I was in Youth I 'm now no more A trembling Faintness loosens ev'ry Limb And dizz'd Vertigoes through my Brains do swim Light which to all the World do's Joy
wrinkled Face And I am tickled with my own Disgrace Thus these are the First Fruits of Death with these Down to the Grave I march by slow degrees My Form my Dress my Colour Shape and Meen Are not the same which heretofore they 've been My Body now inclin'd and awkward grown Le ts my large Coat slide from my shoulders down And what was short before seems now a Gown I so contracted and decreas'd appear You 'd think my very Bones deminish't were I 'm no more privileg'd to look on high To contemplate the rich and spacious Sky But prone to Earth from whence I came I tend To shew where I began there I must end Three Feet I use but streight I shall use four And brought to Childhood crawl upon the Floor To its first Principle each thing resolves What ris ' from Nought to Nought again devolves Hence 't is that I mould'ring to Dust am found With my old Staff poking the lazy Ground And my short steps moving with weakly pace But slowly quitting the attractive Place Seem thus to mutter my Complaints and pray With belching Jaws to Earth against Delay Mother receive thy Child pitty his pain And in thy Bosome cherish me again For hardly can my Leggs their Load sustain My loathsome Figure now moves no Delight And my sad gastly Looks the Boys affright For fear they shun me and abhor my Sight Why to thy Brood do'st shew such Crueltie To let me thus a common Bugbear be My bus'ness now with Mankind here is none The wretched Task of Life by me is done With all its various Trouble various Toyl Receive me therefore to my proper Soil What Pleasure is 't to see me undergo So many diff'rent Penalties of Wo Is it a Mother's part to use me so Scarce have I Strength thus even to complain And scarce my Staff my trembling Limbs sustain But with my Labour and my Grief opprest Lolling upon my Couch I seek for Rest Where stretch't along upon th' uneasie Bed I represent an Earthie Body dead Such as it is when once the Soul is fled Thus when I loll and stretch who would believe That I am sensible at all or live Though this indeed what Life I have do's give My Life is but one intire Punishment And all the World but one whole Discontent Heat burns my Body Clouds offend my Sight Nor do's the cold or clearer Air delight The Summer Dews are hurtfull to my Head And as Infections April Showers I dread The chearfull Days of the gay blooming Spring Nor Autumn's jolly Vintage nor any thing To me the least reviving Joy can bring But wretched I with Scurf and Scab o'er-run And with the Ptisick and Chin-Cough undone My miserable Age it self bemoans With never-ceasing and continual Groans And can you think those Creatures live to whom The Air by which we breath and Light become Hatefull and grievous sad and troublesome Ev'n Sleep Death's gentle gratefull Imagerie Which for a Time do's wretched Mortals free From the unquiet Thoughts of Miserie Still flies away and shuns unhappy me And if he do's vouchsafe though late to close My heavy Eyes he troubles my Repose With horrid frightfull Dreams and dreadfull Sights Of fatal Specters and of murther'd Sprights Down Beds or Beds of Stone are much the same And seem to me to differ but in name Though softest Silks my thin light Cov'ring be Heavy they seem and troublesome to me With many Inconveniencies opprest Often I rise to break imperfect Rest Thus urg'd by my weak Bodies sad Defect I do those very things I would neglect And striving many Evils to avoid My Health by many Evils is destroy'd Thus Age coming on unheeded and unsought With multitudes of heavy Mischiefs fraught Submission to its own sad Weight is taught Who therefore would a tedious Life desire And so by piece-meal painfully expire Then in the Flesh the Soul should bury'd lye And to live dying better once to dye Alas I don't complain because I 'd give A six't Prescription how long Man should live 'T is an unpardonable Crime I know To circumscribe great Nature by my Law. I only wish that I might meet my Fate E'er Age should all my Pleasures captivate E'er Time with his rank Ills my Life invade Time which makes all things wear away and fade The sturdy Bull by Time deficient grows Nor use of former noble Courage knows The proud gay mettled Horse of late so good By Age becomes the Scandal of the Stud This can abate the furious Lyon's Rage And the fierce Tyger gentle grows with Age. Antiquitie makes even Rocks decay And ev'ry thing alas to Time gives way Wherefore I rather would anticipate My growing Miseries by swifter Fate And all my Punishment at once would feel Nor wait in painfull Expectation still But who can tell the Sorrows and the Pain VVhich not themselves but others do sustain Thus poor Old men increase their grievous Care By minding how much they unpitty'd are Of those who cannot in their Suff'rings share Hence 't is that Age forsaken friendless Age Do's in so many scolding Broyls engage Meeting with such Contempts such Detriments While none in his behalf his Harms resents The rogu'ish Boys and wanton Girls agree Both to despise abuse and laugh at me For Master me they think 't is shame to own Because with Age I 'm despicable grown They flout my Gate my Face and trembling Head Whose angry Nod they heretofore would dread Though my dim'd sight small help to me do's give Yet I shall certainly my Shame perceive No rude affronts by me unseen can go But I must mark 'em to compleat my Woe Thrice happy sure is the deserving He Who leads his Life in calm Tranquillitie And e'er with Age his Strength is quite decay'd Is from the World by timely Death convey'd For to remember former Happiness Do's but increase the wretched Man's Distress ELEGY II. The ARGUMENT In this Elegy the Poet mourns the Inconstancy of his Mistriss and seems to attribute the Cause of it to his being Old nevertheless he endeavours by several Arguments to perswade her to continue her Love to him still but despairing of Success he ends the Elegy with a Complaint BUT lo Lycoris my inconstant Fair To me too faithless and to me too dear She whose Desires whose Soul and mine were one And long we undevided liv'd alone Secure I thought of such a lasting Love And Happiness as nothing could remove But now by strange Infatuations led The stupify'd Ingrate avoids my Bed And from my aged and enfeebl'd Arms To younger Lovers bears her sprightly Charms Of former Joys forgetfull all the while Do's me decrepid old unable stile Nor recollects those many Pleasures past Which she with vast Delight so oft would tast And my unhappy Age so much did hast Nay the ungratefull the perfidious She To cast the odium of her Crime on me Feigns that my Faults caus'd her Inconstancie Perhaps hereafter when she may
Crime appears The wanton Boy loves light Inconstancie And Age affects a settled Gravitie But gracefull Youth arriv'd to manly growth Remains the Golden Mean betwixt 'em both This heedfull Silence best becomes and that Delights in noisie Mirth and empty Chat. Time conquers all things and we must submit To all the cruel Tyrannies of it He suffers nought in certain Paths to range But with himself do's ev'ry Being change Now therefore since my Age do's burthen me And useless is come Death and set me free But oh in vain I beg for Libertie On what hard terms poor Mortals Life receive Who when opprest cannot themselves relieve By Death at Pleasure but must tortur'd live 'T is to the Miserable sweet to dye But courted Death from them do's coyly fly And where unwelcome there approaches nigh But I while living tread in Paths of Death And faintly draw a meer departing Breath For Age to me the Vse of Sence denies And grants but an imperfect Exercise Of all my Reasonable Faculties My Hearing fails me and do's each day wast Nor can my Gust relish the best Repast With me ev'n balmy Kisses lose their tast My sunken Eyes can scarce discover day The Sun methinks shines with a glimm'ring Ray. Now not the most transporting Bliss can be By my unactive Touch convey'd to me No Pleasure more in gratefull scents I take For Smelling do's my frigid Nose forsake Me senceless thus who 'd not for Dead mistake No use have I of former Memorie Ev'n what I was is now forgot by me As if of Lethe I had drunk each day My Mind do's with my languid Corps decay No Verses now I sing that Pleasure 's done And my sweet tunefull Voice alas is gone Delicious Poems I no longer feign To please an Audience with my Commick Vein No more throng'd Theatres while I complain Applaud my Numbers and my Tragick strain But Avarice for Gold and worldly Care Draw me to scold at the litigious Bar Which cruel Trouble makes me seem no more Than the faint Image of my self before For Death-like Paleness now takes up that Place Which White and Red before had in my Face Like gather'd Fruit my Age dries up my Skin And shrinks and stiffens ev'ry Nerve within My Eyes which heretofore with Love could smile And yielding Hearts of tender Maids beguile Now with continual flowing Rheums are sore And day and night in Tears their Fate deplore Now brisly Woods for Brows impending grow Which did before like Summer Garlands show Strangely methinks and most imperfectlie My Eyes I know not how in Torment see For being dim'd with moist Rheumatick Tears Each thing to me so frightfully appears As what past by without is sadly seen By melancholy and despairing Men From the deep Cavern of a darksome Den. Thus poor Old Men by their own Horrours fed Both to themselves and others become dead For who 'd not guess when Reason's gon Life fled If Books I take with hopes in them to find Something to ease or to delight my Mind 'T is still in vain for my deceitfull Eyes Shows ev'ry Letter in a doubling size And ev'ry Leaf grows dull and magnifies The clearest Light through Clouds I only see For ev'n those very Clouds are made by me An obscure Dusk deprives me of the Day And takes it unassisted by the Night away Thus I amidst Tartarian Darkness dwell And ev'ry Object represents my Hell. Who then would live such a curst Wretch to be Like me tormented to that vast Degree To hope Relief from a worse Miserie I 'm now possest of ev'ry Ill Disease Feasts and Delights of Epicure displease And that I still may live to live I cease Me whom no Hardship could abuse of old Want or Excess of Food of Heat or Cold. Now what should nourish me do's cause my Pain And even Food becomes my certain Bane Would I be fill'd eating creates my Grief Would I abstain ev'n that gives no Relief The Dish that pleas'd my Palate just before Is now thrown by and can delight no more No Pleasure more in gentle Love I find Though Venus self should offer to be kind Ev'n Wine for me has no more Charms in store Which can relieve the bad inrich the Poor Sick Nature but remains weak and opprest And with its own worst Evil is distrest Those Diet-drinks which cleans'd me heretofore And well-prov'd Physick now can work no more All which to others sick some Ease can give Cannot the sad Disease of Age relieve For how should Physick in that Case prevail When even that do's with the Body fail And that same Cup from whence I Med'cines sip Receives Infection from my putrid Lip. These ineffectual Props are rais'd in vain A fierce precipitating Ruin to sustain No Shows or Triumphs can obleige my sight I cannot now ev'n counterfeit Delight Beauty the chiefest Magazene of Love And a good Dress which Beauty can improve To Age becomes the object of his Rage But even Life offends capricious Age Nay Banquets Singing and gay Jests displease Unhappy those whose Pleasure is Disease What solid Bliss can unus'd Riches grant For much though I possess yet more I want To me 't is Pain to touch my own Estate And hoarded Gold a Crime to violate So Tantalus do's in deep Water stand But for his Thirst cannot one drop command I make my self but Custos of my own For others to enjoy when I am gon So was the Dragon in the Garden plac'd To watch the golden Fruit but not to tast Thus I solicitous with Care opprest To my teiz'd Mind refuse a needfull Rest Still coveting and craving still for more I ne'er abate if not increase my Store And maugre all imagine I am poor Nor are these all the Plagues that wait on me For I become my own worst Enemie Doubtfull and trembling credulous of Ill And fearfull of my own best Actions still Yet in my Notions obstinately wise I praise the past the present Age despise None learn'd but me or skilfull I believe Oâ— my own Prudence only positive By wilfull Doatage most my self deceive Much do I talk and talk it o'er and o'er And yet am troublesome by telling more I drivle out a slav'ring Speech so long You 'd wish a present Palsie seiz'd my Tongue To Death y' are tired yet unweary'd I Persist to kill you with Garrulitie Oh miserable Age which canst but give Strength to Mankind to become talkative In ev'ry Place my loud Complaints are heard They 're heard indeed but never gain Regard Nothing can please me nothing can suffice Now this I covet that anon despise Old-men to Infants we may well compare Whose changing Wills as fond and peevish are When e'er I make my self a Witty Fool And my grave Tail is very ridicule If my tir'd Audience do's but laugh aloud I 'm mightily oblieg'd and mighty proud I smile with them and flatt'ring my Conceit Heighten their Laugh with the same strains of Wit. A pleasing Joy o'er-spreads my
Friends desire to feel Ev'n that same Wisdom which the World do's guide Declares her self of thy more equal side And to thy Rule and Governance thinks fit That all its Force and Power should submit To Thee the trembling conquer'd yielding Maid Desiring that of which she seems afraid Prostrate falls down just ready to receive Those gratefull Wounds which thou prepar'st to give And when broke up she still and silent lyes Sheds her glad Blood and with the Pleasure dyes Mangled some Tears she drops but more do's smile And stronger Joys her weaker Griess begulle Pleas'd with the sweet Defeat she clings more close And hugs the Conquerour that gives the murth'ring Blows Soft easie ways thou do'st not always chuse But sometimes acts of Force and Manhood use Thy toying Plays and pretty gamesome Wiles Are sometimes mix't with more laborious Toils Oft Stratagems of Wit are your best course And sometimes you thrive best by down-right Force The cruel Hearts of Tyrants fierce and wild Thou often canst convert to kind and mild Ev'n thou the stubborn God of War canst move And melt and soften into gentle Love. Thou the enrag'd and anger'd Jove canst charm And of his dreadfull Thunder quite disarm Nay after the bold Gyant 's overthrow Could'st clear his clouded and incensed Brow. The hungry Tyger by thy strange Effects Grows tame and the pursuit of Beasts neglects The humble Lover courteous meek and mild By thee grows fierce and like a Lyon wild Thy Vertue and thy Patience wonders doe For all your Victims are belov'd by you And when you conquer you are conquer'd too Triumphs you scorn but love the active Fight And more in War than Conquest you delight O'ercome you re-assume new Strength new Life With double Courage to renew the Strife And then the Battle thus again renew'd You only fight to be again subdâ—'d Short is thy Rage but Zeal do's longer live And Strength decay'd do's very oft revive And though thy Pow'r to doe and act is done Yet thy Good-will and Wishes are not gone Thus she as if she mourn'd the Obsequies Of some dead Friend as dear as her own Eyes Ended her long Complaint and rose from me Abandon'd o'er to Grief and Miserie ELEGY VI. The ARGUMENT This Elegy is nothing else but a Mournfull Conclusion of all the Five foregoing ones AT last craz'd Age thy babling Noise give o'er And leave to tamper with a fest'ring Sore In fruitless Plaints fondly you seek Redress The more you Mourn the more your Griefs increase Nor is Repining the next way to Ease Prithee be wise for Modesty forbear In long Harangues more Vices to declare Let a slight Hint of thy great Shame suffice Sure now 't is Time if ever to be Wise Crimes long insisted on new Strength receive And do thereby into new Crimes revive Content thy self that thou at length shalt have A lasting Rest within thy quiet Grave For all vain Mortals must resign their Breath To Time when e'er he calls and march to Death All must tread that inevitable Road Though Life and Death meets all in diff'rent Mode Though some to Want and some to Plenty live Some soon grow Wealthy some can never thrive So some in Trouble dye and some in State Some dye too soon some timely some too late And none can shun or be exempted Fate He none will either privilege or save But undistinguish't hurries all to th' Grave There Age and Infancy together come And there they meet with Youth at his long home The Rich and Poor are both made equal there And there alike the Prince and Peasant fare For Death alas is a meer Leveller Therefore 't is best that Journey soon to take Which unavoidably we once must make Nor is it Prudence to defer that thing Which strong Necessity of Force will bring But I alas the most unfortunate And most severely us'd by rig'rous Fate My own sad Obsequies in vain would grieve Who still am dying and am still alive FINIS