Bentley's Miscellany, Volume I

by Various

"Accipiunt inimicam hyemem RIMISque, fatiscunt."

Ovid first tried thus an experiment on his native tongue, which was duly followed up by the Church, not unwilling to indulge by any reasonable concession her barbarous converts in the sixth century. Of Mr. Lover's translation it were superfluous to point out the miraculous fidelity; delicate gallantry and well-sustained humour distinguish every line of his vernacular version, hardly to be surpassed by the Ars amandi of his Latin competitor.

TO THE HARD-HEARTED MOLLY	AD MOLLISSIMAM PUELLAM, È GETICÂ
CAREW, THE LAMENT OF HER	CARUARUM FAMILIÂ OVIDIUS
IRISH LOVER.	NASO LAMENTATUR.
1.	I.
Och hone!	Heu! heu!
Oh! what will I do?	Me tædet, me piget o!
Sure my love is all crost,	Cor mihi riget o!
Like a bud in the frost ...	Ut flos sub frigido ...
And there's no use at all	Et nox ipsa mî, tum
In my going to bed;	Cum vado dormitùm,
For 'tis dhrames, and not sleep,	Infausta, insomnis,
That comes into my head ...	Transcurritur omnis ...
And 'tis all about you,	Hoc culpâ fit tuâ
My sweet Molly Carew,	Mî, mollis Carùa,
And indeed 'tis a sin	Sic mihi illudens,
And a shame.—	Nec pudens.—
You're complater than nature	Prodigum tu, re
In every feature;	Es, verâ, naturæ,
The snow can't compare	Candidor lacte;—
To your forehead so fair:	Plus fronte cum hâc te,
And I rather would spy	Cum istis ocellis,
Just one blink of your eye	Plus omnibus stellis
Than the purtiest star	Mehercule vellem.—
That shines out of the sky;	Sed heu, me imbellem!
Tho'—by this and by that!	A me, qui sum fidus,
For the matter o' that—	Vel ultimum sidus
You're more distant by far	Non distat te magis ...
Than that same.	Quid agis!
Och hone, wierasthrew!	Heu! heu! nisi tu
I am alone	Me ames,
In this world without you!	Pero! pillauleu!
2.	II.
Och hone!	Heu! heu!
But why should I speak	Sed cur sequar laude
Of your forehead and eyes,	Ocellos aut frontem
When your nose it defies	Si NASI, cum fraude,
Paddy Blake the schoolmaster	Prætereo pontem?...
To put it in rhyme?—	Ast hic ego minùs
Though there's one Burke,	Quàm ipse Longinus
He says,	In verbis exprimem
Who would call it Snublime ...	Hunc nasum sublimem ...
And then for your cheek,	De floridâ genâ
Throth 'twould take him a week	Vulgaris camœna
Its beauties to tell	Cantaret in vanum
As he'd rather:—	Per annum.—
Then your lips, O machree!	Tum, tibi puella!
In their beautiful glow	Sic tument labella
They a pattern might be	Ut nil plus jucundum
For the cherries to grow.—	Sit, aut ribicundum;
'Twas an apple that tempted	Si primitùs homo
Our mother, we know;	Collapsus est pomo,
For apples were scarce	Si dolor et luctus
I suppose long ago:	Venerunt per fructus,
But at this time o' day,	Proh! ætas nunc serior
'Pon my conscience I'll say,	Ne cadat, vereor,
Such cherries might tempt	Icta tam bello
A man's father!	Labello:
Och hone, wierasthrew!	Heu! heu! nisi tu
I'm alone	Me ames,
In this world without you!	Pereo! pillaleu!
3.	III.
Och hone!	Heu! heu!
By the man in the moon!	Per cornua lunæ
You teaze me all ways	Perpetuò tu ne
That a woman can plaze;	Me vexes impunè?...
For you dance twice as high	I nunc choro salta
With that thief Pat Macghee	(Mac-ghìus nam tecùm)
As when you take share	Plantâ magis altâ
Of a jig, dear, with me;	Quàm sueveris mecùm!...
Though the piper I bate,	Tibicinem quando
For fear the ould chate	Cogo fustigando
Wouldn't play you your	Ne falsum det melus,
Favourite tune.	Anhelus.—
And when you're at Mass	A te in sacello
My devotion you crass,	Vix mentem revello,
For 'tis thinking of you	Heu! miserè scissam
I am, Molly Carew;	Te inter et Missam;
While you wear on purpose	Tu latitas vero
A bonnet so deep,	Tam stricto galero
That I can't at your sweet	Ut cernere vultum
Pretty face get a peep.	Desiderem multùm.
Oh! lave off that bonnet,	Et dubites jam, nùm
Or else I'll lave on it	(Ob animæ damnum)
The loss of my wandering	Sit fas hunc deberi
Sowl!	Auferri!
Och hone! like an owl,	Heu! heu! nisi tu
Day is night,	Coràm sis,
Dear, to me without you!	Cæcus sim: eleleu!
4.	IV.
Och hone!	Heu! heu!
Don't provoke me to do it;	Non me provocato,
For there's girls by the score	Nam virginum sat, o!
That loves me, and more.	Stant mihi amato ...
And you'd look very queer,	Et stuperes planè,
If some morning you'd meet	Si aliquo manè
My wedding all marching	Me sponsum videres;
In pride down the street.	Hoc quomodo ferres?
Throth you'd open your eyes,	Quid diceres, si cum
And you'd die of surprise	Triumpho per vicum,
To think 'twasn't you	Maritus it ibi,
Was come to it.	Non tibi!
And 'faith! Katty Naile	Et pol! Catherinæ
And her cow, I go bail,	Cui vacca, (tu, sine)
Would jump if I'd say,	Si proferem hymen
"Katty Naile, name the day."	Grande esset discrimen;
And though you're fair and fresh	Tu quamvis, hìc aio
As the blossoms in May,	Sis blandior Maio,
And she's short and dark	Et hæc calet rariùs
Like a cowld winter's day,	Quàm Januarius;
Yet, if you don't repent	Si non mutas brevi,
Before Easter,—when Lent	Hanc mihi decrevi
Is over—I'll marry	(Ut sic ultus forem)
For spite.	Uxorem;
Och hone! and when I	Tum posthâc diù
Die for you,	Me spectrum
'Tis my ghost that you'll see every night!	Verebere tu ... eleleu!

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FAMILY STORIES. No. IV.—THE SQUIRE'S STORY.

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THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS.

A GOLDEN LEGEND.

"Tunc miser Corvus adeo conscientiæ stimulis compunctus fuit, et execratio eum tantopere excarneficavit, ut exinde tabescere inciperet, maciem contraheret, omnem cibum aversaretur, nec ampliùs crocitaret: pennæ præterea ei defluebant, et alis pendulis omnes facetias intermisit, et tam macer apparuit ut omnes ejus miserescerent."

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