Where, circled with true pleasures, placed above
The reach of death or time, 'twill be my glory
To think at what an easy price I bought it:
There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth;
No joint-benumbing cold, or scorching heat,
Famine, nor age, have any being there.

MASSINGER.

οὗ χαρμοναῖσι γνησίαις κυκλουμένη, ἀειθαλής, ἄφθαρτος, εὐφρανθήσομαι

οἷς ἐκτίνοντες ἡλίκ ̓ ἀντειλήφαμεν. ἥβη γὰρ ἔνθ ̓ ἄπαυστος ἄφθιτόν τ' ἔαρ' οὐκ ἀρθροκηδὲς ψύχος, οὐ λάβρον σέλας, οὐ λιμὸς οὐδὲ γῆρας ὀυδέν ἐστ ̓ ἐκεῖ.

MYCERINUS.

So spake he, half in anger, half in scorn:
And one loud cry of grief and of amaze
Broke from his sorrowing people: so he spake ;
And turning, left them there; and with brief pause,
Girt with a throng of revellers, bent his way

To the cool region of the groves he loved.

There by the river-banks he wandered on,

From palm-grove on to palm-grove, happy trees,

MYCERINUS.

Dixerat, iratus pariter pariterque superbus: quem lamentantum excepit vox una suorum, una indignantum. nec plura locutus in uno destitit obtutu haerentes, nec multa moratus lascivo stipante choro vestigia flexit

in nemus umbriferum placitaque sub arbore frigus. illic ad ripas fluvii in palmeta meabat addita palmetis, silvae felicis in umbras.

Their smooth tops shining sunwards, and beneath
Burying their unsunned stems in grass and flowers :
Where in one dream the feverish time of Youth
Might fade in slumber, and the feet of Joy
Might wander all day long and never tire:
Here came the king, holding high feast, at morn,
Rose-crowned; and ever, when the sun went down,
A hundred lamps beamed in the tranquil gloom,
From tree to tree, all through the twinkling grove
Revealing all the tumult of the feast,

While the deep-burnished foliage overhead

Splintered the silver arrows of the moon.

MATTHEW ARNOLD.