Maciej Kazimierz Sarbiewski

To Paulus Coslovius 
Ode 35. Lib. 4.

[Lyr. IV 35]

The Western winds, with the warm breath o’ th’ Spring,
Return, and o’er our fields their soft gales fling:
           The flow’ry-garnish’d Meadows by,
                  With freshest colours painted lie.
The River, which the gainful ships so throng,
With welcome silence gently glides along,
           Although the neighbouring Hill doth ring
                  With the shrill notes of birds that sing;
Although the Swain on the green bank that sits
Old Sonnets with his Oaten Pipe repeats,
           Although the Seaman doth not fail
                  At length to strike his full blown sail.
To thy Palladian labours interpose
Such changes Paullus; when the Sun forth shows
           And with his golden presence smiles
                  On the high tops of highest Hills,
We’ll mount the back of green Luciscus, where
He’s thickest set with tallest Oaks, and hear
           The bubbling noise of streams that flow
                  From Fountains that close by him go.
Thence from the midst o’ th’ hill all Vilna shall
Our prospect be, our eye shall lower fall —
           On Vilia’s cooler streams, that wind,
                  And with embraces Vilna bind.
From thence, far off, the Temples we’ll behold,
And radiant ‘Scutcheons all adorn’d with gold;
           Then we’ll look o’er that double tower,
                  Th’ extent of great Palaemon’s power.
How in a settled peace, and kingdom’s rest
The easy people raise themselves, so blessed!
           Three Temples in three years we’ve seen
                  To th’ Citizens have reared been;
Where Gediminian Rocks themselves extol
With their plain tops, and then the Capitol.
           Those buildings, whose proud turrets stretch
                  Themselves to th’ Clouds, and stars do reach:
Great things to greater growth do thus increase,
And with least pains, improve themselves by peace.
           Here, tops of Hills, themselves behold,
                  In all their flow’ry pride unfold.
The Poplar now that shakes, when th’ East winds blow,
Stood clothed in grey, under the ling’ring snow:
           The Springs that now so nimbly rise,
                  Were all of late locked up, in Ice.
The fields that now with blushing Roses spread,
Lay barren, and in hardest frost all hid:
           The birds which chirping sit i’ th’ Spring;
                  When Winter comes, forget to sing.
Break off delays then, and from grievous care
A constant day, set by; which th’ ev’ning fair
           Doth promise, and the next day’s Sun
                  With his white Steeds will freely run.

Translated from Latin into English by George Hils, this poem comes from the first edition of M. K. Sarbiewski’s English translations, The Odes of Casimire. Translated by G.H., published in London in 1646. It was also the first published collection of translations of M. K. Sarbiewski’s works in the world. 

The presented translation edition is part of the Casimir Britannicus, a collection of English translations of M. K. Sarbiewski’s poetry, edited by Krzysztof Fordoński and Piotr Urbański and published by the Modern Humanities Research Association in 2010. 

Casimir Britannicus. English translations, paraphrases, and emulations of the poetry of Maciej Kazimierz Sarbiewski. Revised and expanded edition. MHRA Critical Texts Volume 25. Edited by Krzysztof Fordoński and Piotr Urbański. London: Modern Humanities Research Association, 2010. The volume's page on MHRA: https://www.mhra.org.uk/publications/Casimir-Britannicus 

Vilnius University Library would like to express special gratitude to the authors of the collection Casimir Britannicus, Krzysztof Fordoński and Piotr Urbański, as well as Simon Davies and the Modern Humanities Research Association for granting the permission to present the translation of the ode.