Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/376

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��LATIN POEMS

��Jam, Philomela, tuos, foliis adoperta novel-

lis,

Instituis modules, dum silet omne nemus : Urbe ego, tu sylva, simul incipiamus

utrique.

Et simul adventum veris uterque canat. Veris, io ! rediere vices; celebremus ho-

nores

Veris, et hoc subeat Musa perennis opus.

Jam sol, xEthiopas fugiens Tithoniaque

arva, 3 i

Flectit ad Arctoas aurea lora plagas.

Est breve noctis iter, brevis est mora noctis

opacaB,

Horrida cum tenebris exulat ilia suis. Jamque Lycaonius plaustrum caeleste

Bootes

Non longa sequitur fessus ut ante via; Nunc etiam solitas circum Jovis atria toto

Excubias agitant sidera rara polo. Nam dolus, et caBdes, et vis cum nocte re-

cessit,

Neve Giganteum Dii timuere scelus. 40 Forte aliquis scopuli recubans in vertice

pastor,

Roscida cum primo sole rubescit humus, " Hac," ait, " hac certe caruisti nocte pu-

ella,

Phoebe, tua, celeres quse retineret equos." Lscta suas repetit sylvas, pharetramque

resumit

Cynthia, luciferas ut videt alta rotas, Et, tenues ponens radios, gaudere videtur

Officium fieri tarn breve fratris ope. " Desere," Phoebus ait, " thalamos, Aurora,

seniles;

Quid juvat effoeto procubuisse toro ? 50 Te manet ^Eolides viridi venator in herba; Surge; tuos ignes alt us Hymettus habet." Flava verecundo dea crimen in ore fatetur,

Et matutinos ocius urget equos. Exuit invisam Tellus rediviva senectam,

Et cupit amplexus, Phoebe, subire tuos. Et cupit, et digna est ; quid enim f ormosius

ilia,

Pandit ut omniferos luxuriosa sinus, Atque Arabum spirat messes, et ab ore

venusto

Mitia cum Paphiis fundit amoma rosis ? Ecce, coronatur sacro frons ardua luco, 61

Cingit ut Idseam pinea turris Opim; Et vario madidos intexit flore capillos,

Floribus et visa est posse placere suis. Floribus effnsos ut erat redimita capillos, Taenario placuit diva Sicana Deo.

��Now, Philomel, in thy bower of new leaves, thou beginuest thy modulations, while all the woods are still. Thou in the forest and I in the town, let us begin to- gether, and together chant the coming on of spring. Sing ho ! the spring's vicissi- tudes are here ! let us celebrate her, let the Muse take up again the perennial task. For now the sun, fleeing from the Ethiop strand and the orient fields of Tithonus, turns to the north his golden reins. The journey of night grows brief; brief is the tarrying of murky night, when she exults in horrid shades. Now Bootes, wearied, follows through a shorter span the hea- venly Wain; now even the wonted watches of the stars about the courts of Jove grow rare. For, along with night, grief and crime and violence retreat; nor do the gods fear any longer the insults of their giant foes. Perchance some shepherd, lying on a sum- mit of rock, as he sees the dews reddening with dawn, says, " Surely this night, O Phoebus, thou hast lacked loving arms to bold thee back, thee and thy swift horses." Cynthia, when from her high station she beholds the sun's bright wheels, seems to rejoice that by her brother's aid her task has been shortened, and, laying by her faint halo, joyously goes back to her forest and her quiver.

" O Aurora, Phoebus cries, leave the couch of old T'thonus ! what does that chilly bed avail thee ? Arise ! Procrus the hunter waits for thee on the grassy side of high Hymettus ! " With shy, averted face, the bright goddess confesses her love, and more swiftly urges on the horses of morn- ing. Earth, revivified, casts off her hated age, and longs for thy embraces, O Apollo ! longs for them, and deserves them. For what more beautiful than she, when she bares her rich breast, breathing of the har- vests of Araby, and when upon her lovely lips the balsams of the Orient mingle with the roses of Paphos ? Lo ! she encircles her high brow with sacred trees, as the tower of pines that crowns the goddess Ops on Ida; and flowers many-hued she weaves in her dew-drenched hair, in hope of pleas- ing her lover, as Proserpine, when she had bound her loose locks with flowers, pleased

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