IDYL V. LIFE TO BE ENJOYED. IF sweet my songs, or these sufficient be At things we have not learned, and toil in vain. If Saturn's son, and changeful Fate, assigned That one in joys and one in woes be past, Who had his woes first would have joys at last. But since Heaven wills one life to man should fall, And this is brief very too brief for all We think to do, why should we fret and moil, And vex ourselves with never-ending toil? To what end waste we life, exhaust our health On gainful arts and sigh for greater wealth? We surely all forget our mortal state How brief the life allotted us by Fate! IDYL VI. CLEODAMUS AND MYRSON. CLEODAMUS. WHAT Sweet for you has Summer or the Spring, Or lazy winter-since but few are loath To cheer themselves with fire-side ease and sloth? Or the spring blushing with its bloom of flowers? Tell me your choice, since leisure-time is ours, MYRSON. For man to judge things heavenly is unmeet, And all these seasons holy are and sweet. But I to please you will indulge your ear, IDYL VII. ACHILLES AND DEIDAMIA. MYRSON. WILL you, my Lycidas, now sing for me A love-song, such as once the Cyclops young LYCIDAS. I'll pipe or sing for you: what shall it be? MYRSON. The song of Scyros dearly pleases me, How he, a boy, put on a virgin's dress, BB |