MORTE D'ARTHUR.

So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,

Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He stepping down

By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,

Came on the shining levels of the lake.

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,

And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon,
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt.

TENNYSON.

IDEM GRÆCE

Τοσαῦτα λέξας ἐξ ἐρειψίμου νέω στείχων, Σελήνης νυκτέρων αὐγῶν ὕπο, παρ' ἕρμα τυμβόχωστον οἴκησιν νεκρῶν ἔβαινεν, ἥ κραταιὰ τῶν πρὶν ἀλκίμων ἔκρυψεν ὀστᾶ κἀνεκώκυσεν πνοή ὕπερθεν ἁλία ξυμμιγής ψυχρᾷ ζάλη. ὁ δ ̓ οὖν κατῄει καμπίμαις ὁδοῖς ἰών ἀγμοῖσιν ἴχνος ἐντιθεὶς κραταιλέῳς, λίμνης ἕως ἀφίκετ ̓ εὐφεγγεῖς πλάκας. ἐλθὼν δ ̓ ἄρ ̓ ἔγχος ἔσπασεν χρυσήλατον τῷ δ ̓ ἐξέφηνε σπῶντι, λαμπρύνουσ' ἄκραν νεφέλην, Σελήνη λαμπάδας· κώπη δ ̓ ἄφαρ πάχνης ὑπ ̓ ἀντέλαμψεν ἐκδοχὴν φλογός.

S. H. BUTCHER.

WINTER'S TALE.

ACT III. Sc. 3.

Ant. I have heard, but not believed, the spirits of the dead

May walk again if such thing be, thy mother

:

Appeared to me last night, for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another

I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,

So fill'd and so becoming in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity she did approach

My cabin where I lay thrice bow'd before me,
And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: "Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep and leave it crying."

;

IDEM GRECE.

Ηκουσα μὲν γὰρ ἀλλ ̓ ἄπιστος ὢν τὸ πρὶν
φοιτᾶν καμόντων αὖθις ἐς φάος σκιάς.
εἰ δ ̓ οὖν τοδ ̓ ἔστι, τῆς πάροιθεν εὐφρονῆς
μητὴρ ἔδοξ ̓ ἔμοιγε σὴ παριστάναι,
ὕπαρ γὰρ ἦν ἐναργές, οὐκ ὄναρ, βλέπειν.
γυνὴ μὲν οὖν τις ὡς ἐμοὶ προσέρχεται,
νεύουσα κράτα τῇδε τῇδ ̓· ἀλλ ̓ οὔποτε
εἶδον τοσούτων ἀλγέων ἐπιστεφές,
ἄγγειον ὧδ' εὔμορφον· ἦλθε γὰρ πέπλους
λευκοστόλους ἐνδῦσα, παρθένου σέβας
θεᾶς ἔχουσα, πρὸς καθεύδοντος λέχος
καὶ τρὶς κάρα νεύσασά γ', ὡς λέξουσά τι,
ἤσπαιρε, κἀνέρρηξεν ὀμματοῖν ἄπο
κρουνοῖν ὁποῖα δακρύων πλημμυρίδα.
ὀργῆς τε λήξασ ̓ ἀμπνοάς τ ̓ ἔχουσα δὴ
ῥίπτει λόγον τοίονδε· νῦν φίλον κάρα,
Αντίγονε, δεῖ γὰρ καίπερ οὐκ ὠμόφρονα
ὅμως ἔνορκον ὄντα σ ̓ ἐκθεῖναι βρέφος
τόδ ̓ ἄθλιον, σαφ ̓ ἴσθι γὴν Βοημίαν
πολλῶν περισσεύουσαν ἀστείπτων γνῶν
ὅποι σὺ κλαίων κλαῖον ἐκτίθει βρέφος.

S. H. BUTCHER.

CLEON.

THIS is a dream :-but no dream, let us hope,

That years and days, the summers and the springs, Follow each other with unwaning powers.

The grapes

which dye thy wine, are richer far

Through culture, than the wild wealth of the rock;

The pastured honey-bee drops choicer sweet ;
That young and tender crescent moon, thy slave,
Sleeping upon her robe as if on clouds,

Refines upon the women of my youth.

What, and the soul alone deteriorates ?

I have not chanted verse like Homer's, no

Nor swept string like Terpander, no-nor carved

And painted men like Phidias and his friend :

I am not great as they are, point by point:
But I have entered into sympathy

With these four, running these into one soul,

Who, separate, ignored each other's arts.

R. BROWNING.