Translation by the Rev. J. H. Clark, M. A. West Dereham, Norfolk. WEET sorrow, mightier than any smile, stars have made! How soft her breath, as o'er that face awhile Tears gem her cheek, bright almost as her eyes, My fortune tell, Chaldeans! when the skies TO ETESIA GOING BEYOND SEA. 10, if you must! but stay-and know To ev'ry thing, but heav'n and you, Did walk; and where you sate with me Till I can find some flow'r you prest. That near my dying heart I'le keep, And when it wants dew, I will weep: Sadly I will repeat past joyes And words, which you did sometimes voice: I'le listen to the woods, and hear The eccho answer for you there. But famish'd with long absence I Like infants left, at last shall cry, And tears-as they do milk-will sup Until you come, and take me up. ETESIA ABSENT. OVE, the world's life! what a sad death Thy absence is! to lose our breath At once and dye, is but to live Inlarg'd, without the scant reprieve Of pulse and air: whose dull returns And narrow circles the soul mourns. But to be dead alive, and still To wish, but never have our will: To be possess'd, and yet to miss, To wed a true but absent bliss: Are ling'ring tortures, and their smart Which unto us, seems separate, Cannot be said to live, until Reunion; which dayes fulfill And slow-pac'd seasons: so in vain train I look for thee, and from thy sight, As from my soul, for life and light. DE SALMONE. Ad virum optimum, et sibi familiarius notum: Dr. Thomam Poellum Cantrevensem: S. S. Theologiæ Doctorem. CCIPE prærapido salmonem in gurgite captum, Ex imo in summas cum penetrasset aquas, Mentitæ culices quem forma elusit inanis : Picta coloratis plumea musca notis. Dum captat, capitur; vorat inscius, ipse vorandus; Alma quies! miseræ merces ditissima vitæ, Qui dum spumosi fremitus et murmura rivi Quæritat, hamato sit cita præda cibo, Quam grave magnarum specimen dant ludicra rerum? Gurges est mundus: salmo, homo: pluma, dolus. WITH A GIFT OF A SALMON, SENT TO THAT FAMOUS AND BEST OF MEN, MY DEAR FRIEND, DR. THOMAS POWELL: A TRANSLATION BY THE EDITOR. CCEPT the salmon that with this I send O' the quick-darting Usk, he just had come How safe this salmon-and long years have seen If he content in the still pools had been : To bound and flash amidst its tossing waves, He leaps to seize what seems a noble prize, Often are little things the types of great: |