OF THE GENERATION AND REGENERATION OF THE PHŒNIX.
Phœnix, nursling of Death,
How wondrous is thy birth!
Thou gainest not thy breath
I' nest, like birds of Earth:
'Mid fire all flaming hot
Thou strangely art begot;
The leaping flames thee cherish
When thou seem'st to perish.
Lo, Death thy midwife is;
Lo, thyself thou bearest.
O tell me how is this,
That mystery thou preparest?
Thou mother of thyself!
Thou daughter of thyself!
When thy 'pointed hour is done,
Thou an od'rous nest entwinest;
And, as for thy destruction,
Thou 'midst its fires reclinest.
Most surely thou'rt consum'd;
Most surely thou'rt relum'd.
O fruitful Death!
O gainful Death!
Live then, self-containèd bird;
Most pleasing wonder.
The old legend is absurd;
But truth lies under. G.
EPITAPHIUM.
Quisquis nectareo serenus aevo
Et spe lucidus aureae juventae,
Nescis purpureos abire soles,
Nescis vincula ferreamque noctem
Imi careris horridumque Ditem,5
Et spectas tremulam procul senectam,
Hinc disces lacrymas, et huc repones.
Hic, ô scilicet hic brevi sub antro
Spes et gaudia mille, mille, longam,
Heu longam nimis! induere noctem.10
Flammantem nitidae facem juventae
Submersit Stygiae paludis unda.
Ergo, si lacrymas neges doloris,
Huc certo lacrymas feres timoris.
NOTE.
I correct, in l. 6, 'tremulam' for 'tremulum;' l. 7, 'disces' for 'discas,' and 'huc' for 'hinc.' G.
TRANSLATION.
EPITAPH.
Ye that still, serene in peace,
Lying in the lap of ease,
Believe the hopes of golden youth,
And have not heard the bitter truth,
How shining suns fade at a breath;
Ye, with little dread of death,
Or fear of chains and iron night
Of man's last prison, or the sight
Of gloomy Dis; that think to keep
Old age away,—look here, and weep.
Here, to this one narrow room,
A thousand joys and hopes have come;
Here bright minutes many a one
Have a lasting night put on:
Youth's torch, that flash'd such light about,
Is in the Stygian wave put out.
Then, if you grudge poor grief a tear,
Heave, at least, a sigh for fear. A.