HUMANAE VITAE DESCRIPTIO.
O vita, tantum lubricus quidam furor
Spoliumque vitae! scilicet longi brevis
Erroris hospes! Error ô mortalium!
O certus error! qui sub incerto vagum
Suspendit aevum, mille per dolos viae5
Fugacis, et proterva per volumina
Fluidi laboris, ebrios lactat gradus;
Et irretitos ducit in nihilum dies.
O fata! quantum perfidae vitae fugit
Umbris quod imputemus atque auris, ibi10
Et umbra et aura serias partes agunt
Miscentque scenam, volvimur ludibrio
Procacis aestus, ut per incertum mare
Fragilis protervo cymba cum nutat freto;
Et ipsa vitae fila, queis nentes Deae15
Aevi severa texta producunt manu,
Haec ipsa nobis implicant vestigia,
Retrahunt trahuntque, donec everso gradu
Ruina lassos alta deducat pedes.
Felix, fugaces quisquis excipiens dies20
Gressus serenos fixit, insidiis sui
Nec servit aevi, vita inoffensis huic
Feretur auris, atque clauda rarius
Titubabit hora: vortices anni vagi
Hic extricabit, sanus assertor sui.25
TRANSLATION.
DESCRIPTION OF HUMAN LIFE.
O Life, or but some evanescent madness
And glittering spoil of life snatch'd with blind gladness!
Of endless Error, transitory guest;
Sad human Error, which would fain find rest.
O certain Error, 'neath uncertain sky
Suspending here our frail mortality;
Leading us through a thousand devious ways
And intricacies of a treacherous maze!
Our staggering footsteps how dost thou beguile
Through wanton rounds of unavailing toil,
And our entangl'd days to nothing bring!
O fates, how much of our poor life takes wing,
Wasted on winds and shadows! On life's stage
Shadows and winds a serious part engage,
The scene confusing. On life's billow tost,
The sport of changeful tide, we're well-nigh lost,
And, like a frail boat on a stormy sea,
We waver up and down uncertainly.
Nay, e'en the threads spun by the Fates on high,
As with stern fingers they divinely ply
The web of life, twine round us as we go,
And draw us backwards, forwards, to and fro;
Till Ruin trips us up, and we are found
Helpless and weary, stretched along the ground.
Happy the man who, welcoming each day
With smiles that answer to its fleeting ray,
Pursues with step serene his purpos'd way;
The alluring snares peculiar to the age
His soul enslave not, nor his mind engage;
His life with peaceful tenor glides along,
By fav'ring breezes fann'd, and sooth'd with song;
Inspir'd by Heaven with soul-sustaining force,
Seldom he falls, or falters in his course;
But ever, as the eddying years roll round,
Bursting through all the perils that abound,
A wise assertor of himself is found. R. Wi.
IN PYGMALIONA.
Poenitet artis
Pygmaliona suae,
Quod felix opus esset,
Infelix erat artifex;
Sentit vulnera, nec videt ictum.
Quis credit? gelido veniunt de marmore flammae:
Marmor ingratum nimis
Incendit autorem suum.
Concepit hic vanos furores,
Opus suum miratur atque adorat.
Prius creavit, ecce nunc colit manus;
Tentantes digitos molliter applicat;
Decipit molles caro dura tactus.
An virgo vera est, an sit eburnea;
Reddat an oscula quae dabantur,
Nescit; sed dubitat, sed metuit, munere supplicat,
Blanditiasque miscet.
Te, miser, poenas dare vult, hos Venus, hos triumphos
Capit a te, quod amorem fugis omnem.
Cur fugis heu vivos? mortua te necat puella.
Non erit innocua haec, quamvis tua fingas manu;
Ipsa heu nocens erit nimis, cujus imago nocet.
TRANSLATION.
ON PYGMALION.
Grief for work his hands have done
Harroweth Pygmalion;
Happy reach of art! yet he
The artificer, unhappily,
He feels the wounds: what deals the blow?
Can it be true? can flames from gelid marble flow?