Cupid and Campaspe. CUPID and my Campaspe play'd Growing on's cheek (but none knows how); Lylye. Adieu, Adieu! My Native Shore. "ADIEU, adieu! my native shore The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, Yon Sun that sets upon the sea Farewell awhile to him and thee; My native Land, Good Night! Amor et Campaspe. LUDEBANT simul alea Cupido et *G. C. Vale Britannia. "TERRA paterna, vale! vitrei trans marmora ponti Labitur ex oculis terra paterna meis: Flamina rauca sonant, reboant in litora fluctus, "A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate. "Come hither, hither, my little page! But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; 'Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind: Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind; For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, And have no friend, save these alone, But thee-and One above. "Efferet Eoo mox se redivivus ab æstu Phoebus, et incipiet jam novus ire dies; Tum mare conspiciam mollesque per æthera cœlos; Sed non materni reddita regna soli. Stat domus heu! deserta; patrum silet aula meorum; Nec vetus est solito fervidus igne focus; Quin steriles herbæ dominantur pariete in ipso, 66 Et canis occlusas ejulat ante fores. Huc, puer, huc venias! venias, positoque dolore, Quæ sit mœrendi jam tibi causa, refer. Anne reformidas malesani turbinis iram, Anne times nimiis ne furat unda minis? Pone metus, stantemque occulis i comprime guttam ; Sæviat ira Noti, montes volvantur aquarum, Me nec aquæ tumidæ nec movet ira Noti. Ne mirere tamen cura quod vexer, et ægri Quod subito luctus pectora nostra premant : Nempe abiens carumque patrem matremque reliqui; Omnibus abreptis tu mihi solus ades, Tuque-Deusque manet: mihi tu nunc unus amicus; Tu pro matre mihi, pro patre solus eris. 'My father bless'd me fervently, "Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman, Why dost thou look so pale? Or dost thou dread a French foeman? 'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life? 'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake, And when they on their father call, 66 What answer shall she make?' Enough, enough, my yeoman good, Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood, Will laugh to flee away. |