Beauty from the Light retired.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love.

A violet by a mossy stone
Half-hidden from the eye,

Fair as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky,

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and oh!

The difference to me.

WORDSWORTH.

Tecum una perierunt Gaudia nostra.

Inter inaccessas, Dovae cunabula, rupes
Accola fontani fluminis illa fuit.

Nemo ibi qvi nostram posset laudare puellam,
Perpauciqve, qvibus diligeretur, erant.
Non viola annosi musco prope condita saxi
Prodit amabilius semireducta caput:
Nec tam grata nitet nec tam formosa videri
Stella silescentem qvae tenet una polum.
Sic latuit virgo: paucisqve innotuit hora
Qva mea cum vivis desiit esse Chloe.
Illam nigra qvies tumuli complectitur: heu heu
Nunc alia est tellus, ac fuit ante, mihi.

G. A. C. M.

Secretum Iter.

Αβάτων οἴμων παρθένος ᾤκει
παρὰ ταῖς πηγαῖς ταῖσι Πελειάδος
οὔτις ἐπήνει παρθένον ὕμνοις,
παῦροι δ ̓ ἐφίλουν πάνυ παυροί.
ὄσσοις ἴον ὡς ὅσον οὐκ ἀφανὲς
ψηφῖδος ὑπαὶ τῆς βρυοέσσης
οἷος ἔλαμψεν πλάκας οὐρανίους
στεροπαῖς αἴθων μόνος ἀστήρ,
ἀγνώς βίος ἦν· παύροις τε κόρης
γνωτὸς θάνατος τῆς ἡμετέρας
ἡμῖν δὲ μόνοις, πολὺ γὰρ τὸ μέσον,
τύμβος νιν ἔχει πολύκλαυτον.

Fallentis Semita Vitae.

Οἴμοις ἐν ἀστιβήτοις

κρήνῃσι πὰρ Πελείης
κούρη τις ἦν, παρῴκει δ'
ἐπαινέσων μὲν οὐδεὶς
παῦροι δέ μιν φιλοῦντες.
ἴον γὰρ ὡς μελαίνης
ὑπὲκ πέτρης φανέν τι,
καλή θ ̓ ὅπως τις ἀστὴρ
μόνος φλέγων δι' αἴθρης,
ἔζη βίον λαθραῖον,
παῦροι δ' ἐπῃσθάνοντο
τῆς παρθένου θανούσης.
καὶ τὴν μὲν εἷλε τύμβος,
ἐμοὶ δ ̓ ὅσον λέλοιπεν
αἱ αἱ πόθον τίς οἶδε ;

R. S.

Κ.

Alcestis.

She came forth in her bridal robes arrayed,
Flowers in her bosom, and her braided hair
Sparkling with gold, and death upon her brow,
But glorious death, the token and the seal
Of love, o'ermastering love. The soft pure air
Came floating, rich with music, from the vales;
And the glad sunshine. of that golden clime
Streamed in bright radiance round her; but she gazed
Only on him for whom 'twas bliss to die,
On him long gazed in silence, ere she spoke.

"Thou sun, thou golden sun, I go

Far from thy light to dwell:

Thou shalt not find my place below;

Dim is that world: bright sun of Greece, farewell.

"Yet fainteth not my soul to part;

I mourn thee not, O sun!

Joy, solemn joy, o'erflows my heart;

Sing me triumphant songs! my crown is won.'

MRS HEMANS.

Face nuptiali digna.

Ἡ δ ̓ ἐν πέπλοισι νυμφικοῖς ἠσκημένη ἐξῆλθε, κόλπον ἄνθεσιν χρυσῷ κόμας στεφθεῖσα πλεκτῷ, καν ὑγρᾷ παρηίδι ἦν ἐμφανῆ μὲν θάνατον εὐκλεᾶ δ' ἰδεῖν, τοῦ παγκρατοὺς ἔρωτος ὕστατον τέκμαρ. αὔρα δὲ λευρὸν ἡδύπνους δι' αἰθέρα γέμουσ ̓ ἀοιδῆς ἐκ ναπῶν ἀνέπτατο, φαιδρόν τ ̓ ἀνῆπτεν ὄμμα χρυσέου πόλου εὐήμερον φῶς ἀμφὶ τὴν θανουμένην. μούνη δὲ μοῦνον ἄνδρα προσβλέπουσ ̓ ἀεί, ἀνθ ̓ οὗ θανεῖν ἢν τερπνόν, ἄφθογγον στόμα πολὺν χρόνον κατεῖχε πρὶν φωνεῖν τάδε.

Ὦ χρυσοφαὲς σέβας ἀελίου,

τὰν σὰν προλιποῦσ ̓ οἴχομαι αὐγάν,
σὺ γὰρ οὐκέτ ̓ ἐμὰν μορφὴν ὄψει
νέρτερ ̓ ἰούσας δώματ ̓ ἀνάλια

χαίρειν σε λέγω φλογερὸν λαμπτῆρ ̓
Ἑλλάδος αἴας.

ἀλλ ̓ οὐ θανάτου πλασίον οὖσαν
κατέχει ψυχὰν δέος ἡμετέραν,
οὐδέ τι θρανῶ, Φοῖβε, τὸ σόν περ
λείπουσα σέλας, θείοις δὲ γελᾷ
χάρμασιν ἦτορ στέφος ὕψιστον
στεφανωθείσης

ὀλολύξατε νῦν ἐπὶ νίκῃ.

Ε. C. C.

Amaryllis.

H. My dearest love, since thou wilt go
And leave me here behind thee,
For love or pity let me know

The place where I may find thee.

A. In country meadows pearled with dew
And set about with lilies,

There filling maunds with cowslips, you
May find your Amaryllis.

H. What have the meads to do with thee
Or with thy youthful hours?

Live thou at court, where thou mayst be
The queen of men, not flowers.

Let country wenches make 'em fine
With roses, since 'tis fitter

For thee with richest gems to shine,
And like the stars to glitter.

HERRICK.

The little Old Woman.

And so the little old woman went on till she saw a knife: "Good knife, cut rope; rope won't hang butcher; butcher won't kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't slake fire ; fire won't burn rod; rod won't bang dog; dog won't bite pig; pig won't gang ower t' brig, and I shall never get my old man his supper to-night.'

NURSERY TALE.