every grove I chose,
The violet sweet, and lily fair,
The dappled pink, and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Chloe's hair.
At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers less blooming than her face,
The scent less fragrant than her breath.
The flowers she wore along the day;
And every nymph and shepherd said,
That in her hair they look'd more gay
Than glowing in their native bed.
Undrest at evening, when she found
Their colours lost, their odours past, She chang'd her look, and on the ground Her garland and her eye she cast.
That eye dropt sense distinct and clear,
As any muse's tongue could speak;
SELEGI nemoris suave est quodcunque vel horti,
Liliaque, et violas, virgineasque rosas;
Quod caryophyllis pulchre variatur, ut esset
Ornatum capiti texeret unde Chloe.
Illa statim in sertum textos imponere flores
Dignata est pulchris, munere læta, comis.
At neque sic positis, si virginis ora videres,
Gratia vel formæ par, vel odoris, erat.
Quæ primo induerat florum redimicula mane,
Gessit per totum nympha venusta diem;
Et juvenes pariter, pariter dixere puellæ,
Non in natali sic nituisse solo.
Exuta ut flores sensit, quod nulla colorum
Vespere restaret gratia, nullus odor;
Palluit obtutu, gemuitque, oculoque pudice
Demisso, sertum dejiciebat humi.
Ille, silens quamvis, musa facundior omni,
Index egregiæ mentis ocellus erat ;
When from its lid a pearly tear
Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
Dissembling what I knew too well,
My love, my life, said I, explain,
This change of humour: pr'ythee tell,
That falling tear, what does it mean?
She sigh'd; she smil'd; and to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely moralist said,
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made!
Ah me! the blooming pride of May
And that of beauty are but one :
At noon both flourish bright and gay;
Both fade at ev'ning, pale, and gone.
At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung,
The am'rous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal knell, was rung,
I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud.
Such as she is, who died to day,
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow; Go, Damon, bid thy muse display The justice of thy Chloe's sorrow.
Cum furtim ex illo, gemmæ rutilantis ad instar,
Pulchram humectaret lucida gutta genam.
Quod scivi, nescivi; et cur, charissima vita !
Oh! mea lux ! dixi, cur ea gutta cadit ?
Unde obiit pallor vultus ? fare, obsecro, fare,
Tam subito lapsu gutta quid illa velit ?
Ecce! unde! (ingemuitque simul, peramabile ridens
Ecce! ait interpres pulchra, sit unde dolor!
Dona tua en quantum, paucis fugientibus horis,
Unica mutârit, tota nec illa, dies!
Hei mihi quod floret languetque superbia Maii,
Floret idem formæ gloria, languet idem.
Utraque mane vigens placidumque et dulce rubescit ;
Utraque marcescit vespere, pallet, abit.
Cum mane illuxit, multos Stella inter amantes,
Saltibus et cantu, lusus amorque fuit:
Vespere pallentem conspexi in frigore mortis,
Osculaque exsangui terque quaterque dedi.
Triste hodie et pallens quod cernitur illa, videbor
Cras istud forsan triste cadaver ego.
I, Damon, Musamque jube describere versu,
Quam justo doleat vestra dolore Chloe.
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