XXXV

FROM THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON'

But as he doubted, to his eyes alone

Within the place a golden light outshone,
Scattering the clouds of smoke, and he beheld
Once more the Goddess who his head upheld
In rough Anaurus, on that other tide;
She, smiling on him, beckoned, and 'gan glide
With rosy feet across the fearful floor,
Breathing cool odours round her, till a door
She opened to him in the iron wall,

Through which he passed, and found a grisly stall
Of iron still, and at one end of it,

By glimmering lamps with greenish flame half lit,
Beheld the yoke and shining plough he sought;
Which, seizing straight, by mighty strength he brought
Unto the door, nor found the Goddess there,

Who in the likeness of a damsel fair,

Colchian Metharma, through the spearmen passed,
Bearing them wine, and causeless terror cast
Into their foolish hearts, nor spared to go
And 'mid the close seafaring ranks to sow
Good hope of joyful ending.

W. Morris.

XXXVI
NATURE

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted

By promises of others in their stead,

Which, though more splendid, may not please him more,—
So Nature deals with us, and takes away

Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go

Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand

How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

Longfellow.

XXXV

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ θεός εἰμι, διαμπερές ή σε φυλάσσω

ἐν πάντεσσι πόνοις

Substitit incertus, iamque ima in parte cavernae aurea lux oculos comitum celata refulsit.

spargitur extemplo fumi vapor, ipsaque rursus se iuveni ostendit quae quondam in gurgite mersam cervicem tumidi dea sustentarat Anauri.

illa viro adridens nutu vocat, ac pede labens incedit roseo trans formidabile marmor; labentem egelidi circumfunduntur odores. porta fuit, muri circumdant ferrea claustra, quam transit ducente dea; discluditur infra stans praesepe gravi ferro, penitusque sub antro quaque incerta micant funalia luce maligna, ecce iugum et splendens quaerenti offertur aratrum. haec simul adripiens manibus, summaque trahens vi, ad portam tulit: at divae non amplius umbra manserat: illa decus referens atque ora puellae, qualis Metharme, flos Colchidis, agmen obibat vina ferens, animisque metus iniecit inanes: nec minus aequoream nautis stipantibus oram spem laeti eventus, inter spatiata, serebat.

XXXVI

NATURA

Puerum tenellum qualis in crepusculo
genetricis almae dextra dormitum pia
ducit volentem abire, nolentem simul,
qui per patentes multa respectat fores
soloque fracta deserit crepundia;
promissa nec, meliora quantumvis, nova
solamen addunt nec satis fiduciae,
latura quae sint fors voluptatis minus ;
Natura sic nos adhibet; oblectamina

C. S.

tollens modo haec modo illa, tam leni manu
ductos quieti tradit, ut parum scias
utrum morari praestet an discedere ;
adeo sopor perfundit, atque incognitis
immane quantum nota discrepent, latet.

E 2

XXXVII

ALL SAINTS

One feast, of holy days the crest,
I, though no Churchman, love to keep,
All Saints-the unknown good that rest
In God's still memory folded deep;
The bravely dumb that did their deed,
And scorned to blot it with a name,
Men of the plain heroic breed,

That loved Heaven's silence more than fame.

Such lived not in the past alone,

But thread to-day the unheeding street,

And stairs to Sin and Famine known
Sing with the welcome of their feet;
The den they enter grows a shrine,
The grimy sash an oriel burns;
Their cup of water warms like wine,
Their speech is filled from heavenly urns.

About their brows to me appears

An aureole traced in tenderest light,
The rainbow-gleam of smiles through tears
In dying eyes by them made bright,

Of souls that shivered on the edge
Of that chill ford repassed no more,

And in their mercy felt the pledge
And sweetness of the farther shore.

XXXVIII

J. R. Lowell.

THE LORD OF BURLEIGH
Weeping, weeping late and early,
Walking up and pacing down,
Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh,
Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.
And he came to look upon her,

And he look'd at her and said,
"Bring the dress and put it on her,
That she wore when she was wed."

Then her people, softly treading,

Bore to earth her body, drest

In the dress that she was wed in,
That her spirit might have rest.

Tennyson.

XXXVII

ἀνώνυμοι θανόντες οὐκ ἀνωνύμως.

Non ego templorum cultor, tamen et mihi lucet unica sollenni more colenda dies,

sacra dies animis, quas ima mente repostas
numen, ut ignotas neglegat orbis, habet.
fortiter egerunt, sua fortiter acta silentes,
ne mutum titulus dedecoraret opus.
simplex heroum suboles, incognita famae;
nec puduit; sat erat non latuisse Deum.
nec genus hoc tantum Saturni protulit aetas,
securas hodie lustrat obitque vias;

hos hilari cantu, pedibus modo tacta, salutant
limina flagitiis obsita, taetra fame.
squalentem subiere casam—fit nobile fanum,
et picto rutilat foeda fenestra vitro.
sermonem dicas fusum caelestibus urnis;
si lympham dederint, vina calere putes.
aurea tam sanctas frontes ornare videtur,
et pingi tremula vitta corusca face,
quale micare iubar morientis ab ore docebant,—
sic risu pluviam temperat Iris aquam.
frigidus ille quidem trepidabat margine in ipso
caerulei, quod non fas remeare, vadi,

mox horum pietate valens praesumere ripae non dubitat pactas ulterioris opes.

XXXVIII

HAVE PIA ANIMA

E. D. S.

Flens mane flens Torquatus in serum diem obambulabat atrium,

gravi dolore perstrepente Tusculi

villam propinquam moenibus.

adit cadaver satiet ut visus suos,

sic fatus ut coram stetit,

"ferte ocius quam nupta gestavit prius

pallam maritali die."

exinde pressis leniter vestigiis

pii clientes in rogum

qua veste nupta fuerat indutam ferunt,

pacem daturi manibus.

XXXIX

BACCHANALIA

Loitering and leaping

With saunter, with bounds-
Flickering and circling

In files and in rounds-
Gaily their pinestaff green
Tossing in air,

Loose o'er their shoulders white

Showering their hair-
See! the wild Maenads

Break from the wood,
Youth and Iacchus

Maddening their blood.
See, through the quiet corn
Rioting they pass-
Fling the fresh heaps about,
Trample the grass,

Tear from the rifled hedge
Garlands, their prize;
Fill with their sports the field,
Fill with their cries.

Shepherd, what ails thee, then?
Shepherd, why mute?
Forth with thy joyous song!

Forth with thy flute!
Tempts not the revel blithe ?

Lure not their cries?

Glow not their shoulders smooth?
Melt not their eyes?

Is not on cheeks like those

Lovely the flush ?—

-Ah, so the quiet was!

So was the hush!

XL

Of all my verse like not a single line;
But love the title, for it is not mine.
That title from a better man I stole :

M. Arnold.

Ah! how much better had I stol'n the whole.

R. L. Stevenson.