He and all of his are heathens yet.
Wilt thou not obey,
The tapers around her are flaming;She speaks to the page: "With a nimble pace
EPIGRAMS.To OriginalsThe Soldier's ConsolationGenial ImpulseNeither this nor thatThe way to behaveThe bestAs broad as it's longThe Rule of LifeThe same, expandedCalm at SeaThe Prosperous VoyageCourageMy only PropertyAdmonitionOld AgeEpitaphRules for MonarchsPaulo post futuriThe Fool's Epilogue
EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment,Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking.Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distortedEver her moving form; the goddess departed in anger.Yet the stream call'd mockingly after her, saying: "What, truly!Wilt thou not view, then, the truth, in my mirror so clearly depicted?"But she already was far away, on the brink of the ocean,In her figure rejoicing, and duly arranging her garland.
"I must seek my spouse so dear,
Soothes the aching eyelid's pain;Ah, I else had died for grief,