252 Specimen of a Translation of Browne s Latin Poem. 



TRANSLATION. 



Through the wide earth, the tribes that roam the plain. 



Cleave the blue sky, or cut the glassy main. 



Each in the narrow sphere by heaven assio-ned. 



The fulness of complete enjoyment find. 



Nor know a wish beyond that lot confin'd. 



Man— only man— whom reason's power inspires. 



Whom still th' unsated thirst of knowledge fires. 



To search for causes in their secret springs. 



And trace the links that bind the chain of things, 



Urged vainly by desires above his state. 



Attempts a path forbidden him by fate. 



For Death on wings of gloom still hovering near 



Arrests his progress ere its mid career. 



Say, why is this ? if nought th' Almighty mind 



Of all that it has made in vain design'd ; 



Say, why to man— to short-liv'd man— were given 



These seeds of intellect, the growth of heaven. 



Which scarce his transient spring permits to shoot. 



Ere Death's cold winter blasts their hope of fruit ? 



What him avails it, though he thus connect 



Things far remote, all nature's springs detect. 



Expatiate by the mind's unfetter'd force 



Beyond the solar orb and starry course ? 



These thoughts that wander through eternity. 



Say, what avail they one so soon to die ? 



Were it not wiser far, at ease reclin'd 



Amidst luxurious shades with Phillis kind 



To toy away the noon, or at thy shrine 



To seek for rapture, mighty god of ^vine ? 



For thy charm'd cup can chase with happiest skill 



The sense of sorrow past, the fear of coming ill. 



Bid then the goblet flow;— the thrilling lyre 



Let Beauty's touch with strains of love inspire ; 



Snatch Joy's brief flow'rs, each moment as they spring. 



Nor waste one care on \vhat the next may bring. 



But oh how sor n these idle pleasures tire. 



How pall the appetite of cloy'd desire. 



Ere yet we scantily taste them. Leave we then 



These toys, and seek for objects worthier men ; 



Heap wealth on wealth, or led by higher aim. 



Pursue the radiant paths that tend to fame ; 



Till crowds admiring on our greatness wait. 



And thousands swell the triumph of our state : 



Alas, 'tis empty show, nor once deceives 



The soul ungratified, that inly grieve* 



