The hand of him here torpid lies,
That drew th' essential form of grace;
Here clos'd in death th' attentive eyes,
That saw the manners in the face.
TRANSLATION OF THE FOLLOWING LINES, WRITTEN UNDER A PRINT REPRESENTING PERSONS SKATING.
Sur un mince cristal l'hiver conduit leurs pas,
Le précipice est sous la glace:
Telle est de nos plaisirs la légère surface:
Glissez, mortels; n'appuyez pas.
O'er ice the rapid skater flies,
With sport above, and death below;
Where mischief lurks in gay disguise,
Thus lightly touch and quickly go.
IMPROMPTU TRANSLATION OF THE SAME.
O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound,
With nimble glide the skaters play;
O'er treach'rous pleasure's flow'ry ground
Thus lightly skim, and haste away.
TO MRS. THRALE, ON HER COMPLETING HER THIRTY-FIFTH YEAR. AN IMPROMPTU.
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five!
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five.
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stock and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive.
Life declines from thirty-five.
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five;
And all, who wisely wish to wive,
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
IMPROMPTU TRANSLATION OF AN AIR IN THE CLEMENZA DI TITO OF METASTASIO, BEGINNING "DEH SE PIACERMI VUOI."
Would you hope to gain my heart,
Bid your teasing doubts depart;
He, who blindly trusts, will find
Faith from ev'ry gen'rous mind:
He, who still expects deceit,
Only teaches how to cheat.