No more we meet in yonder bowers, Absence has made me prone to roving Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpaired, The forge of love's resistless lightning. Armed thus, to make their bosoms bleed, TO WOMAN. WOMAN! experience might have told me Thy firmest promises are nought; Oh, Memory! thou choicest blessing When joined with hope, when still possessing, How throbs the pulse when first we view DAMÆTAS. IN law an infant, and in years a boy, In mind a slave to every vicious joy; From every sense of shame and virtue weaned, Versed in hypocrisy while yet a child; Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild; Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool ; Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school: TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. THIS faint resemblance of thy charms, Revives my hopes, and bids me live. Here I can trace the locks of gold Which round thy snowy forehead wave, The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould, The lips which made me Beauty's slave. Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye Must all the painter's art defy, And bid him from the task retire. Here I behold its beauteous hue, But where's the beam so sweetly straying Which gave a lustre to its blue, Like Luna o'er the ocean playing? Sweet copy! far more dear to me, Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, Than all the living forms could be, Save her who placed thee next my heart. She placed it, sad, with needless fear, Lest time might shake my wavering soul, Unconscious that her image there Held every sense in fast control. Through hours, through years, through time 'twill cheer; My hope, in gloomy moments, raise; In life's last conflict 'twill appear, And meet my fond expiring gaze. ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL WHEN DYING. ANIMULA! vagula, blandula, Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos. TRANSLATION. Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite, To what unknown region borne, But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn. TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM. EQUAL to Jove that youth must be- I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die; While trembling with a thousand fears, My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread, With deadly languor droops my head, |