Poems (Barbauld)/Ovid to his Wife page 88
Imitated from different Parts of his Tristia. Jam mea cygneas imitantur tempora plumas, Inficit & nigras alba senecta comas: Trist. Lib. iv. Eleg. 8. MY aged head now stoops its honours low, Bow'd with the load of fifty winters' snow; And for the raven's glossy black assumes The downy whiteness of the cygnet's plumes: Loose scatter'd hairs around my temples stray, And spread the mournful shade of sickly grey: I bend beneath the weight of broken years, Averse to change, and chill'd with causeless fears. The season now invites me to retire To the dear lares of my household fire; To homely scenes of calm domestic peace, A poet's leisure, and an old man's ease; To wear the remnant of uncertain life In the fond bosom of a faithful wife; In safe repose my last few hours to spend, Nor fearful nor impatient of their end. Thus a safe port the wave-worn vessels gain, Nor tempt again the dangers of the main