SAM LOVER AND OVIDIUS NASO. BY FATHER PROUT. TO THE EDITOR OF BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY. Sir,—Under the above title I forward you two more scraps from Water-grass-hill. The first is a glee in praise of poverty, a subject on which poets of every country have a common understanding. The Italian Berni, indeed, went a step farther when he sang the "comforts of being in debt,"—La laude del debito; but your enthusiast never knows where to stop. This MS. may suit in the present state of the money market,—a bill drawn by Burns and endorsed by Beranger. You can rely on the Scotchman's signature, experto crede Roberto; while there can be no doubt that the French songster's financial condition fully entitles him to join Burns in an attempt of this kind. Since, however, much spurious paper appears to be afloat, you will use your own discretion as to the foreign acceptance. Of Scrap No. VI. I say nothing, Doctor Prout having left a note on the subject prefixed to the same. Yours, &c. Rory O'Dryscull.
Water-grass-hill, April 20. Scrap No. V. I. | 1. | Is there, | Quoi! Pauvre honnÊte | For honest poverty, | Baisser la tÊte? | That hangs his head | Quoi! rougir de la sorte? | And a' that? | Que l'Âme basse | The coward slave | S'Éloigne et passe | We pass him by, | Nous—soyons gueux! n'importe! | We dare be poor for a' that: | Travail obscur— | For a' that, and a' that, | N'importe! | Our toils obscure, | Quand l'or est pur | And a' that; | N'importe! | The rank is but | Qu'il ne soit point | The guinea's stamp, | MarquÉ au coin | The Man's the gowd for a' that. | D'un noble rang—qu'importe! | | | II. | 2. | What! though | Quoiqu'on dÛt faire | On homely fare we dine, | Bien maigre chÈre | Wear hidden grey, | Et vÊtir pauvre vÊtement; | And a' that; | Aux sots leur soie, | Give fools their silks, | Leur vin, leur joie; | And knaves their wine, | Ca fait'il L'Homme? eh, nullement! | A man's a Man for a' that: | 'Luxe et grandeur— | For a' that, for a' that, | Qu'importe! | Their tinsel show, | Train et splendeur— | And a' that; | Qu'importe! | The honest man, | Coeurs vils et creux! | Though e'er so poor, | Un noble gueux | Is king o' men for a' that. | Vaut toute la cohorte! | | | III. | 3. | Ye see | Voyez ce fat— | Yon birkie, ca'd a lord, | Un vain Éclat | Wha struts and stares, | L'entoure, et on l'encense, | And a' that; | Mais aprÈs tout | Though hundreds worship | Ce n'est qu'un fou,— | At his word, | Un sot, quoiqu'il en pense; | He's but a coof for a' that: | Terre et maison, | For a' that, for a' that, | Qu'il pense— | His riband, star, | Titre et blazon, | And a' that; | Qu'il pense— | The man of | Or et ducats, | Independent mind | Non! ne font pas | Can look and laugh at a' that. | La vraie indÉpendence! | | | IV. | 4. | A king | Un roi peut faire | Can make a belted knight, | Duc, dignitaire, | A marquis, duke, | Comte et marquis, journellement; | And a' that; | Mais ce qu'on nomme | But an Honest Man | Un HonnÊte Homme, | 's aboon his might, | Le peut-il faire? eh, nullement! | Guid faith he manna fa' that. | Tristes faveurs! | For a' that, for a' that, | RÉellement; | Their dignities, | Pauvres honneurs! | And a' that; | RÉellement; | The pith o' sense | Le fier maintien | And pride o' warth | Des gens de bien | Are higher ranks than a' that. | Leur manque essentiellement. | | | V. | 5. | Then let us pray | Or faisons voeu | That come it may— | Qu'À tous, sous peu, | As come it will | Arrive un jour de jugement;— | For a' that— | Amis, ce jour | That sense and warth, | Aura son tour, | O'er all the earth, | J'en prends, j'en prends, l'engagement. | May bear the gree, and a' that! | Espoir et en- | For a' that, and a' that, | couragement, | It's coming yet, | Aux pauvres gens | For a' that, | Soulagement; | That man to man, | 'Lors sure la terre | The warld a' o'er, | Vivrons en frÈres, | Shall brothers be, for a' that. | Et librement, et sagement! | Scrap No. VI. Possevino, in his History of the Gonzagas, (fol. Mantua, 1620,) tells us, at page 781, that a Polish army, having penetrated to the Euxine, found the ashes, with many MSS. of Ovid under a marble monument, which they transferred in pomp to Cracow, A.D. 1581. It is well known that the exiled Roman had written sundry poems in barbaric metre to gratify the Scythian and Getic literati with whom he was surrounded. We have his own words for it: The following is a fair specimen, procured by the kindness of the late erudite Quaff-y-punchovitz, Keeper of the Archives of the Cracovian University. The rhythmic termination, called by the Greeks ????te?e?t?? is here clearly traceable to a Northern origin. It would appear that the Scandinavian poets took great pride in the nicety and richness of these rhymes, by which they beguiled the tediousness of their winter nights: "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 GETIC | CAREW, THE LAMENT OF HER | CARUARUM FAMILI 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 culp fit tu | 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 florid gen | Throth 'twould take him a week | Vulgaris camoena | 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 | Plant magis alt | 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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