Dear Alcimus, Death robbed thy lord of thee When young, and lightly now Labian soil Veils thee in turf: take for thy tomb to be No tottering mass of Parian stone which toil Vainly erects to moulder o'er the dead. Rather let pliant box thy grave entwine; Let the vine-tendril grateful shadow shed O'er the green grass bedewed with tears of mine. Sweet youth, accept the tokens of my grief: Here doth my tribute last as long as time. When Lachesis my final thread shall weave, I crave such plants above my bones may climb.
ON A LITTLE GIRL, EROTION
Mother Flaccilla, Fronto sire that's gone, This darling pet of mine, Erotion, I pray ye greet, that nor the Land of Shade Nor Hell-hound's maw shall fright my little maid. Full six chill winters would the child have seen Had her life only six days longer been. Sweet child, with our lost friends to guard thee, play, And lisp my name in thine own prattling way. Soft be the turf that shrouds her! Tenderly Rest on her, earth, for she trod light on thee.
[III.—Poems on Friendship and Life]
A WORTHY FRIEND
If there be one to rank with those few friends Whom antique faith and age-long fame attends; If, steeped in Latin or Athenian lore, There be a good man truthful at the core; If one who guards the right and loves the fair, Who could not utter an unworthy prayer; If one whose prop is magnanimity, I swear, my Decianus, thou art he.
A RETROSPECT
Good comrades, Julius, have we been, And four-and-thirty harvests seen: We have had sweetness mixed with sour; Yet oftener came the happy hour. If for each day a pebble stood, And either black or white were hued, Then, ranged in masses separate, The brighter ones would dominate. If thou wouldst shun some heartaches sore, And ward off gloom that gnaws thy core, Grapple none closely to thy heart: If less thy joy, then less thy smart.