Sic igitur debent Venti quoque flamina ferri:
Quæ, veluti validum flumen, cum procubuere
Quamlibet in partem, trudunt res ante, ruuntque
Impetibus crebris; interdum vertice torto
Corripiunt, rapidoque rotantia turbine portant.

Lib. i. 272

-Th' excited wind torments the deep,

Wrecks the tough bark, and tears the shiv'ring clouds.
Now, with wide whirlwind, prostrating alike,
O'er the waste champain, trees, and bending blade:
And now, perchance, with forest-rending force,
Rocking the mighty mountains on their base:
So vast it's fury!—But that fury flows
Alone from viewless atoms, that combin'd,
Thus form the fierce tornado raging wild
O'er heaven, and earth, and ocean's dread domain.
As when a river, down it's verdant banks
Soft-gliding, sudden from the mountain round
Swells with the rushing rain—the placid stream
All limit loses; and, with furious force,
In its resistless tide, bears down, at once,
Shrubs, shattered trees, and bridges-

Loud roars the raging flood, and triumphs still,
O'er rocks, and mounds, and all that else contends.
So roars th' enraged wind: so, like a flood,
Where'er it aims, before its mighty tide,

Sweeps all created things: or, round, and round,
In its vast vortex curls their tortur'd forms.

E

It has ever been a custom, among the votaries of the Muses, to conceive themselves as under the influence of inspiration, and to address the supposed dispenser of their poetic energies, in strains the most musical and choice. Lucretius has not deviated from the established form, but, in grateful, and rapturous language, frequently acknowledges the powerful impulse, and boasts the enjoyment of a theme untouched by any of the tuneful train.

Nec me animi fallit quam sint obscura, sed acri
Percussit thyrso Laudis spes magna meum cor,
Et simul incussit suavem mi in pectus amorem
Musarum: quo nunc instinctus mente vigenti
Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius ante
Trita solo: juvat integros accedere fonteis,
Atque haurire: juvatque novos decerpere flores
Insignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam,
Unde prius nulli velârunt tempora Musæ.

Lib. i. 921.

Obscure the subject, but the thirst of fame
Burns all my bosom; and thro' every nerve
Darts the proud love of letters, and the muse.
I feel the inspiring power; and roam resolv'd
Thro' paths Pierian never trod before.
Sweet are the springing founts with nectar new;

Sweet the new flowers that bloom; but sweeter still Those flowers to pluck, and weave a roseat wreath The Muses yet to mortals ne'er have deign'd.

One of the most beautiful and pleasing features in the poetry of Lucretius is, the pure and self-denying morality which pervades almost every page. The opening of the second book is, in fact, a declamation on the vanity of all sublunary things, and the lines immediately succeeding, and which are taken from this introduction, place in the clearest point of view the futility of luxury and wealth, and display the warmest attachment and sensibility to the charms of simple and unsophisticated nature. It is a passage, among a multitude to be found in the poem, which, combining the most exalted poetry with the chastest precepts of virtue, has attracted admirers and imitators in every european nation.

Si non aurea sunt juvenum simulacra per ædeis
Lampadas igniferas manibus retinentia dextris,
Lumina nocturnis epulis ut suppeditentur,
Nec domus argento fulget, auroque renidet;
Nec citharis reboant laqueata aurataque templa:
Attamen inter se prostrati in gramine molli
Propter aquæ rivum, sub ramis arboris altæ,

28

LITERARY

NO. I.

Non magnis opibus jucundè corpora curant :
Præsertim cum tempestas arridet, et anni
Tempora conspergunt viridanteis floribus herbas,
Nec calidæ citiùs decedunt copore febres
Textilibus si in picturis, obstroque rubenti
Jactaris, quam si plebeia in veste cubandu 'st.
Lib, ii. 24.

What tho' the dome be wanting, whose proud walls A thousand lamps irradiate, propt sublime

By frolic forms of youth, in massy gold,

Flinging their splendours o'er the midnight feast: Tho' gold, and silver blaze not o'er the board, Nor music echo round the gaudy roof :— Yet listless laid the verdant grass along Near gliding streams, by shadowy trees o'er-arch'd, Such pomps we need not: such still less when spring Leads forth her laughing train; and the warm year Paints the green meads with roseat flowers profuse. On down reclin'd, or wrapt in purple robe, The thirsty fever burns with heat as fierce As when its victim lingers in a cot.

Virgil in his Georgics, and Thomson in his Seasons, have imitated this delightful piece of moral scenery. No attempt, however, to copy the admirable original has succeeded better, perhaps, than the following by Lorenzo de Medici.

Cerchi chi vuol, le pompe, e gli alti honori,
Le piazze, e tempii, e gli edificii magni,
Le delicie, il tesor, qual accompagni
Mille duri pensier, mille dolori :
Un verde praticel pien di bei fiori,
Un rivolo, che l'herba intorno bagni,
Un augelletto, che d'amor si lagni,
Acqueta molto meglio i nostri ardori:
L'ombrose selve, i sassi, e gli alti monti,
Gli antri oscuri e le fere fuggitive,

Quivi veggo io con pensier vaghi;

Qui me le toglie hor una, hor altra cosa.

Seek he who will in grandeur to be blest,
Place in proud halls, and splendid courts his joy;
For pleasure, or for gold, his arts employ,
Whilst all his hours unnumbered cares molest.

A little field in native flow'rets drest,
A rivulet in soft murmurs gliding by,
A bird whose love-sick note salutes the sky,
With sweeter magic lull my cares to rest.

And shadowy woods, and rocks, and towering hills,
And caves obscure, and nature's free-born train

Each in my mind some gentle thought instills;

Ah gentle thoughts! soon lost the city cares among. Roscoe.