TO THE SHIPS.
(MELEAGER.)
O gentle ships that skim the seas,
And cleave the strait where Hellé fell,
Catch in your sails the Northern breeze,
And speed to Cos, where she doth dwell,
My Love, and see you greet her well!
And if she looks across the blue,
Speak, gentle ships, and tell her true,
‘He comes, for Love hath brought him back,
No sailor, on the landward tack.’
If thus, oh gentle ships, ye do,
Then may ye win the fairest gales,
And swifter speed across the blue,
While Zeus breathes friendly on your sails.
A LATE CONVERT.
(PAULUS SILENTIARIUS.)
I that in youth had never been
The servant of the Paphian Queen,
I that in youth had never felt
The shafts of Eros pierce and melt,
Cypris! in later age, half grey,
I bow the neck to thee to-day.
Pallas, that was my lady, thou
Dost more triumphant vanquish now,
Than when thou gained’st, over seas,
The apple of the Hesperides.
THE LIMIT OF LIFE.
Thirty-six is the term that the prophets assign,
And the students of stars to the years that are mine;
Nay, let thirty suffice, for the man who hath passed
Thirty years is a Nestor, and he died at last!