Epistolary Garden

Here it paints soft violets: the rose, glory of the adult spring,
There it brings itself forward, colored with Paphian relating to Venus blood,
And with its brightness it challenges the day and the light of the pure sun,
And a robe gleaming with Assyrian purple;
Here the gold-haired crocus shines: the venerable honor of the tulips
Feeds its eyes: and throughout the whole garden
Blue flowers are mixed with yellow and milky ones with tawny.
Thus, MOLLER, no small glory of the Aonian pertaining to the Muses choir,
Your grace of honey-sweet tongue adorns the epistolary gardens,
To which the sweet mouths of Nestor yield,
As well as the Arpinian Siren Cicero, and learned Pericles;
Proceed thus, flower of youths, whom a vivid love of praise urges,
And glory touches with no sluggish spur,
To fashion our infant pens and language.
Thus! thus comes fame, which will raise you above the aethers,
And will pour your name through the many ages of descendants.
Live long and happy: may the years of Nestor yield to you,
May these be auspicious, I pray, the beginnings of greater things.