Ah, Sorbicus! 'tis not the work so hard,
Which puts fame beyond your reach;

But the work's too hard because you discard
The aid which boldness would teach.

ANTONIUS TEBALTIUS.

Antonio Tebaldeo or Tibaldeo was an Italian poet, born at Ferrara in 1456. He wrote poetry in his own language, and also Latin Epigrammata. He died in 1538.

CUPID IN TROUBLE (“Delitiæ Delitiarum," 103).

Translated in "Notes and Queries," 1st S. VII.

Wherefore does Venus beat her boy?
He has mislaid or lost his bow:-
And who retains the missing toy?
Th' Etrurian Flavia. How so?
She ask'd he gave it; for the child,
Not e'en suspecting any other,
By beauty's dazzling light beguil'd,
Thought he had given it to his mother.

Spenser has the same point in "Poems," III.:
I saw, in secret to my dame

How little Cupid humbly came,

And said to her: "All hayle, my mother!"
But, when he saw me laugh, for shame
His face with bashfull blood did flame,
Not knowing Venus from the other.
"Then, never blush, Cupid, quoth I,
For many have err'd in this beauty."

Prior, also, at the conclusion of "Cupid Mistaken":

Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;
Indeed Mama I did not know ye;

Alas! how easy my mistake!

I took you for your likeness Cloe.

The following anonymous lines on the toasting glasses of the KitCat Club, in praise of Mrs. Barton, are very similar to Tebaltius' epigram (Nichols' "Collection of Poems," V. 170, 1782):

At Barton's feet the god of Love
His arrows and his quiver lays,
Forgets he has a throne above,

And with this lovely creature stays.

Not Venus' beauties are more bright,
But each appear so like the other,
That Cupid has mistook the right,

And takes the nymph to be his mother.

This lady was the wife of Colonel Barton, and niece of Sir Isaac Newton.

William Thompson, Fellow of Queen's College, Oxford, born in the early part of the 18th century, has an epigram, "Cupid Mistaken," which is little more than a paraphrase of Tebaltius', applied to a beauty of the day, though he makes no acknowledgment of it:

Venus whipt Cupid t' other day,

For having lost his bow and quiver:
For he had giv'n them both away
To Stella, queen of Isis river.

"Mama! you wrong me while you strike,"
Cried weeping Cupid, "for I vow,
Stella and you are so alike,

I thought that I had lent them you."

ACTIUS SANNAZARIUS,

Born in 1458, was a Neapolitan, who, being patronized by King Frederick, for his poetry and scholarship, followed his fortunes, and retired with him into France when he was dethroned. On the king's death he returned to Naples, and passed the remainder of his life in the cultivation of poetry, dying in 1530. He is chiefly celebrated for his Latin verse, which, in purity and elegance, is considered scarcely inferior to that of the Augustan age.

ON POPE LEO X. ("Delitiæ Delitiarum," 109).

Translated in the "Quarterly Review," No. 233.

Leo lack'd the last Sacrament. 66

Why," need we tell?

He had chosen the chalice and paten to sell.

This, though very spirited, scarcely gives the full force of the satire in the original:

Sacra sub extremâ, si forte requiritis, horâ

Cur Leo non poterat sumere; vendiderat.

The mere material adjuncts of the Sacrament could easily have been replaced; but Leo had done far worse than selling these. By the sale of Indulgences, which he carried to an inordinate extent, that he might replenish his exchequer, exhausted by his profusion, he had made merchandise of the forgiveness of sins, and, like another Judas, had sold,

though not the Person, yet the Power, of Christ. The Latin " sacra" implies more than the externals of the Sacrament-rather the hidden mysteries-the Presence of the Christ. Pope Alexander VI. had been held up to scorn for the same impiety in a pasquinade of bitter severity, alluding to his simony, the first two lines of which are thus translated in Disraeli's "Curiosities of Literature," 1st Series, Art. “Pasquin and Marforio": Alexander sells the Keys, the Altars and Christ;

As he bought them first, he had a right to sell them. And Buchanan has an epigram of similar character in Fratres Fraterrimi," on Pope Paul, thus translated by Robert Monteith: Pope Paul and Judas they agree full well;

That, Heav'n; this, Heav'n's Lord did basely sell,

ON AUFIDIUS ("Delitiæ Delitiarum," 110).
Translated in "Collection of Epigrams," 1735.
A hum'rous fellow in a tavern late,

Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate;
The surgeon with his instruments and skill,
Searches his skull, deeper and deeper still,
To feel his brains, and try if they were sound;
And, as he keeps ado about the wound,

The fellow cries-Good surgeon, spare your pains,
When I began this brawl I had no brains.

This translation is not very literal, but gives admirably the humour of the original.

An epigram by Dr. Huddesford, President of Trinity College, Oxford, who died in 1776, was probably formed on the above. It is too long to give in extenso, but the point is contained in the following portion ("Select Epigrams,” II. 70) :

Empty the flask, discharg'd the score,
Ned stagger'd from the tavern door,
And falling in his drunken fits,
Crippled his nose and lost his wits;
But from the kennel soon emerging
His nose repairs by help of surgeon;
That done, the Leech peeps in his brain
To find his wits,-but peeps in vain.
""Tis hard," the patient cries, "to lose
Wits not a whit the worse for use;

TO LESBIA ("Delitia Delitiarum," 110).
Translated in " Collection of Epigrams," 1735.
Ah! Lesbia, now, or never, pity show;
Two diff'rent fates, alas! to thee I owe;

For thee in flames I'm scorch'd, in tears I drown,
At once a Nilus and an Etna grown.

Let my tears quench my fire, O cruel dame!
Or dry my tears up with more potent flame.

Owen bewails the fate of one, whose unrequited love consumes him in tears and flames. The translation is by Harvey (slightly altered) (Book I. 74):

Cold Nilus through my burning eyes doth flow,

My scorching heart with Etna's flames doth glow;
No floods of tears can quench so great a fire,
Nor burning love can make those floods retire;
So, though discordant fire and water be,
United, all their force they show in me.

VENICE("Delitiæ Delitiarum," 111).

Translated by John Evelyn (son of the author of "Sylva”).
Neptune saw Venice on the Adria stand,

Firm as a rock, and all the sea command.
Think'st thou, O Jove! said he, Rome's walls excel?
Or that proud cliff whence false Tarpeia fell?
Grant Tiber best, view both; and you will say
That men did those, gods these foundations lay.

It is said that Sannazarius received from the Venetian Senate a sum equal to about £300 for these few lines in praise of the "glorious city in the sea."

A MOTHER'S LAMENT OVER THE TOMB OF HER ONLY SON ("Delitis Delitiarum," 111).

Translated in the "Quarterly Review," No. 233.
Why did thy parents thee misname their joy?
Alas! far better had they said their grief.
The mother's darling light, her precious boy,
By fate's despite found earth a sojourn brief.
Go to! what's Niobe to me? I moan

Worse fate. She could, I cannot, turn to stone.

ON PLATINA'S "HISTORY OF THE POPES," AND HIS TREATISE "DE HONESTÄ VOLUPTATE," WHICH INCLUDED DIRECTIONS FOR THE KITCHEN.

Translated by Greswell.

Each pontiff's talents, morals, life, and end,
To scan severe, your earlier labours tend-
When late-on culinary themes you shine,

Even pamper'd pontiffs praise the kind design.

This hit at the popes is very fair; but Sannazarius mistakes the order of Platina's works, the treatise "De Honestà " having been written much earlier than the "History of the Popes."

PETRUS BEMBUS.

Born at Venice, in 1470. He became secretary to Pope Leo X., and was celebrated for the purity of the Latin in which he carried on the Pope's correspondence. He died in 1547.

EPITAPH ON RAPHAEL.

Translated by the Rev. James Davies.

Here Raphael lies. While he lived, Nature's dread
Was base defeat; but death, since he is dead!

This epitaph was copied by Pope at the close of his own on Sir Godfrey Kneller, as will be found pointed out under Pope's epitaph on that painter.

Cardinal Bembo wrote the epitaph, at the request of Leo X., to be placed in the Pantheon. Thomas Warton has suggested a variation, which is certainly equally expressive of the painter's wonderful powers, and more consonant with truth, which in mortuary inscriptions should never give place to hyperbole:

Here Raphael lies, by whose untimely end
Nature hath lost a Rival and a Friend.

ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG.
Translated by the Rev. James Davies.

What is there, whelp Bembino, that thy lord denies to thee; From whom thou hast thy name, thy tomb, and tearful elegy?