IDEM GRECE.

τοῦτ ̓ οὖν ὄνειρον, ἀλλ ̓ ἐκεῖνό γ ̓ οὐκ ὄναρ θάρσος γάρ ἐστιν ἡμέρας ἔτη τ' ἀεὶ θέρη τε, χλωροῦ τ ̓ ἦρος ἐν μέρει χρόνους ἕξειν ἀκμαῖα ταΐσι διαδοχαῖς κράτη. οἶνον γὰρ ὅστις ῥεύμασιν τέγγει βότρυς τροφῇ πετραίων διαφέρει βλαστημάτων τροφῇ μέλισσα γλυκύτερον στάζει γάνος κεινὴ δὲ παῖς σοῦ μαλθακή τε καὶ νέα, ὥσπερ σεληνὴ νέφεσιν ἀμφικειμένη πέπλοισι, τῶν πρὶν παρθένων ὑπερφέρει ὅσασπερ εἶδον αὐτὸς ὢν νέος ποτέ. ἀλλ ̓ ἦ ῥέπει πρὸς χεῖρον ἡ ψυχὴ μόνον ; οὐ μὴν ἔγωγ ̓ Ὁμήριχ ̓ ὑμνώδησ ̓ ἔπη, οὐδ ̓ ἔμαθον ἐν τρόποισι Τερπάνδρου λύραν κρέκειν λιγεῖαν, οὐδὲ Φειδίου δικὴν

καὶ τοῦ ξυνέργου ζωγραφεῖν τε καὶ γλύφειν. ἀλλ ̓ αὖθ ̓ ἕκαστα καίπερ οὐ κυρῶν ἴσος, ὅμως δὲ τοῖς τεσσαρσὶ συμπαθών τινα πάθη, μίαν συνήψα τὴν μελῳδίαν, οἷσιν δίχ ̓ οὖσιν οὔτι σύμφωνον προσῆν.

S. H. BUTCHER.

FLET NAUFRAGUS ULIXES.

Μῶν δάκρυα ταῦτ ̓ ἐσεῖδον; ἢ γνώμη πλανᾷ ; οὔκ, ἀλλ ̓ ἀναῤῥαγέντα θαυμαστῷ τρόπῳ ἐπισσύτοις πηγαῖσιν ὀμμάτοιν ἄπο τέγγει πρόσωπον δάκρυα κινῆσαι τάδε οὔπω ποτ ̓ ἔσχε πολέμιον θηκτὸν δορύ, οὐκ ἐχθρὸς οὐδεὶς, οὐχὶ θήρειος βιά. νῦν δ ̓ οὖν ἑταίρους θανασίμους ἐμοὶ μόρος κακὸς κακῶς ἀνεῖλε, λοίσθιος δ ̓ ἐγώ κάτειμ ̓ ἐκεῖσε καὶ κάκιστα δὴ μακρά. καὶ μὴν τοσοῦτον ἐλπίδος τὸ πρὶν παρῆν πάτραν ἱκέσθαι καίπερ ἐκ πολλοῦ χρόνου, παιδὸς πρὸς ὄψιν τοῦ τε φύσαντος πατρός, γυναῖκά τ' αὖθις περιβολαῖς χεροῖν λαβεῖν. νῦν φροῦδα ταῦτα· πῶς ἄρ ̓ οὐχὶ κλαυστέον τί δ ̓ ἐστὶ δακρύων αἶσχος; ὥστε λείβομαι τοῖς τ ̓ οὖσι τοῖς τ ̓ ἀποῦσι φίλτατον γέρας.

S. H. BUTCHER.

DI EPICUREI.*

Quin ibi cœlicolæ semper, mundi alta tenentes,
Accumbunt epulis: ibi succos nectaris ore
Ducunt purpureo; mediique per æthera cœli
Fulmina despiciunt labi, vallesque patentes
Sulcare. At rumpit nihil otia longa Deorum.
Dumque vident, modo quos ignis populaverit, agros
Sub pedibus, tactasque malâ rubigine fruges,
Rident. Pallentes morbi scelerataque bella
Et malesuada fames tempestatumque procellæ
Terrigenas agitant: securo Numina risu
Vesanos fluctus quassasque tremoribus urbes
Pugnasque incensasque domos frigusque caloresque
Immodicos, ustasque plagas sitientis arenæ,
Despiciunt: sunt tanta illis fastidia rerum.

At longe diversa venit mortalibus ægris

Tarda dies. Veluti petit æthera fumus ab aris,
Oribus ex illis ascendit semper ad arces
Sidereas luctus commixtaque luctibus ira;
Numina sed divum rident luduntque superne.
Scilicet infelix ea gens: namque arva coloni

Exercent, Cereremque serunt: labor improbus urget
Agricolas; tenues frustra terit area culmos,
Muneraque abscondunt, naturæ dona malignæ.
Usque laborantes ita vitæ tempora degunt.
Mors venit: umbrarum Stygias ubi transiit undas
Turba, ibi Tartareas sedes, miserabile dictu
Altera pars subeunt, pœnisque piacula vitæ

Solvunt: nec miseris requies datur ulla. Sed agros
Elysiasque habitant valles et amœna vireta
Fortunatorum nemorum pars altera; carpunt
Otia securi longæ post tædia vitæ,

Cœtibus ascripti sacris numeroque deorum,
Membraque perpetuo defessa labore reponunt.

* Cf. Tennyson's "Lotos Eaters."

W. P. SMITH.

FROM THE "SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR."

The god of shepheards, Tityrus, is dead,
Who taught me homely, as I can, to make:
Hee, whilst hee lived, was the soveraigne head
Of shepheards all that bene with love ytake:
Well couth he waile his woes, and lightly slake
The flames which love within his heart had bredde,
And tell us merry tales to keepe us wake,

The while our sheepe about us safely fedde.
Now dead hee is, and lyeth wrapt in lead,
(O why should Death on him such outrage showe!)
And all his passing skill with him is fledde,
The fame whereof doth daylie greater growe.
But if on mee some little drops would flowe
Of that the spring was in his learned hedde,

I soone would learne these woods to waile my woe,
And teach the trees their trickling teares to shedde.

SPENSER.

IDEM LATINE.

Ergo morte riges pastorum, Tityre, custos!
Quippe incompta quidem, si quid mea carmina possint,
Ille dedit; superisque adeò dum vescitur auris
Princeps unus erat cunctorum quotquot amori
Se dederant, doctus dulces expromere questus,

Et facili arte acres flammas restinguere amoris.
Nec nobis, ovibus circà carpentibus herbas
Secure, non ille jocos sæpe ore referre,

Nocte soporiferas nobis queis falleret horas.

At fuit! urna tenet cineres nunc tristis. In illum
Cur valet indignæ tantum inclementia mortis?
Ars etiam illa abiit, decus haud superabile cantus,
Sed magis atque magis crescit laus usque superstes.
Attamen, illius quo carmina fonte fluebant,
Si lympha efflueret mihi quantulacunque, docerem
Ipse meæ citius silvam immiscere querellam,

Et lacrymis stillare nemus madidum omne profusis.

S. H. BUTCHER.