"Well," murmured one, "let whoso make or buy, So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, The little Moon looked in that all were seeking: Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, That even my buried Ashes such a snare As not a True-believer passing by Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in the World much wrong: Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore-but was I sober when I swore? And then, and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore. And much as Wine has played the Infidel, One half so precious as the stuff they sell. Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield To which the fainting Traveler might spring, Would but some wingèd Angel ere too late And make the stern Recorder otherwise Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire Would not we shatter it to bits-and then Yon rising Moon that looks for us again— And when like her, oh Sákí, you shall pass GAUDEAMUS IGITUR * LET us live, then, and be glad After youthful pastime had, Earth will slumber o'er us. Where are they who in this world, Go ye to the gods above; Go to hell; inquire thereof: They are not: they're sleeping. *For the original of this poem see page 3579. Brief is life, and brevity Briefly shall be ended: Death comes like a whirlwind strong, Bears us with his blast along; None shall be defended. Live this university, Men that learning nourish! Live each member of the same, Long live all that bear its name; Let them ever flourish! Live the commonwealth also, And the men that guide it! Live all gods! A health to you, Perish cares that pule and pine! Translated from the Latin by John Addington Symonds [1840-1893] LAURIGER HORATIUS * LAUREL-CROWNED Horatius, True, how true thy saying! Swift as wind flies over us Time, devouring, slaying. *For the original of this poem see page 3581. Where are, oh! those goblets full Strifes and loves and bountiful Grows the young grape tenderly, But the thirsty poet, see, Translated from the Latin by John Addington Symonds [1840-1893] THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER From "The House of a Hundred Lights" THE Great Sword Bearer only knows just when He'll wound my heart,-not I: But since He is the one who gives the balm, what does it signify? If my Control should lose its hold on Fortune's collar through some hurt, What then? Why then I'd simply cling to old gray Resignation's skirt. Of all the languages of earth in which the human kind confer The Master Speaker is the Tear: it is the Great Interpreter. Man's life is like a tide that weaves the sea within its daily web. It rises, surges, swells, and grows, -a pause-then comes the evening ebb. In this rough field of earthly life I have reaped cause for tears enough, Yet, after all, I think I've gleaned my modicum of Laughing Stuff. Frederic Ridgely Torrence [1875 THE EARTH AND MAN A LITTLE Sun, a little rain, A soft wind blowing from the west And woods and fields are sweet again, And warmth within the mountain's breast. So simple is the earth we tread, So quick with love and life her frame: Ten thousand years have dawned and fled, And still her magic is the same. A little love, a little trust, A soft impulse, a sudden dreamAnd life as dry as desert dust Is fresher than a mountain stream. So simple is the heart of man, Stopford Augustus Brooke [1832 DESERVINGS THIS is the height of our deserts: A little rain, a little sun, A little sleep when work is done. A little righteous punishment, A little light to show the way, |