[472] M. Antonius Flaminius, ib. p. 85.
[473] Poemata Selecta, pp. 203-206. An elegy written by Janus Etruscus, Pope's Poemata Italorum, vol. ii. p. 25, on a similar theme, though very inferior to Molsa's, may be compared with it.
[474] 'I ask for no monument of wrought marble to proclaim my titles: let a vase of baked clay receive these bones. Let earth, quietest of resting-places, take them to herself, and save them from the injury of ravening wolves. And let a running stream divide its waters round my grave, drawn with the sound of music from a mountain-flank. A little tablet carved with simple letters will be enough to mark the spot, and to preserve my name: "Here lies Molsa, slain before his day by wasting sickness: cast dust upon him thrice, and go thy way, gentle shepherd." It may be that after many years I shall turn to yielding clay, and my tomb shall deck herself with flowers; or, better, from my limbs shall spring a white poplar, and in its beauteous foliage I shall rise into the light of heaven. To this place will come, I hope, some lovely maid attended by the master of the flock; and she shall dance above my bones and move her feet to rhythmic music.'
[475] For the picture of the girl dancing on the lover's grave, cf. Omar Khayyam. Cf. too Walt Whitman's metaphor for grass—'the beautiful uncut hair of graves.'
[476] 'Alcon, the darling of Phœbus and the Muses; Alcon, a part of my own soul; Alcon, the greatest part of my own heart.'—Carmina Quinque Poetarum, p. 89.
[477] 'Alas! poor youth, withdrawn from us by fate malign. Never again shall I behold thee, while the shepherds stand around, win prizes with thy flying shafts or spear, or wrestle for the crown; never again with thee reclining in the shade shall I all through a summer's day avoid the sun. No more shall thy pipe soothe the neighbouring hills, the vales repeat thy artful songs. No more shall thy Lycoris, whose name inscribed by thee the woods remember, and my Galatea hear us both together chaunt our loves. For we like brothers lived our lives till now from infancy: heat and cold, days and nights, we bore; our herds were reared with toil and care together. These fields of mine were also thine: we lived one common life. Why, then, when thou must die, am I still left to live? Alas! in evil hour the wrath of Heaven withdrew me from my native land, nor suffered me to close thy lids with a friend's hands!'—Carmina, &c. p. 91.
[478] Ib. p. 100.
[479] 'Hideous is their face, their grinning mouth, their threatening eyes, and their rough limbs are stiff with snaky scales; their beard hangs long and wide, uncombed, tangled with sea-weed and green ooze, and their dusky hair smells rank of brine.'—Ib. p. 103.
[480] 'De Elisabetta Gonzaga canente,' Carmina, &c. p. 97. Cf. Bembo's 'Ad Lucretiam Borgiam,' ib. p. 14, on a similar theme.
[481] Ib. p. 95.