Where the spray and the breeze blow free
O'er the ceaseless mirth of the waves,

And dishevel their loose gray locks.

I would spread my wings to the moist, salt air,
And my wide white wings should carry me
Lifted up out over the sea, -

Carry I heed not where,

Somewhither far away,

Somewhither far from my hateful home,

Where the breast of the breeze is sprinkled with spray,
Where the restless deep is maddened with glee;

Over the waves' wild ecstasy,
Through the wild blown foam !

W. H. M.

O'E

THE CONTRAST.

From Moschus.

'ER the smooth main, when scarce a zephyr blows
To break the dark blue ocean's deep repose,

I seek the calmness of the breathing shore,
Delighted with the fields and woods no more.

But when white-foaming heave the deeps on high,
Swells the black storm and mingles sea with sky,
Trembling I fly the wild tempestuous strand,
And seek the close recesses of the land.

Sweet are the sounds that murmur through the wood, While roaring storms upheave the dangerous flood;

THE RETURN OF SPRING.

Then if the winds more fiercely howl, they rouse
But sweeter music in the pines' tall boughs.

Hard is the life the weary fisher finds,
Who trusts his floating mansion to the winds,
Whose daily food the fickle sea maintains,
Unchanging labor and uncertain gains.

Be mine soft sleep, beneath the spreading shade
Of some broad leafy plane inglorious laid,
Lulled by a fountain's fall that, murmuring near,
Soothes, not alarms, the toil-worn laborer's ear.

9

ROBERT BLAND.

THE RETURN OF SPRING TO THE

HAS

SAILOR.

From Philostratus.

ASTE to the port! The twittering swallow calls,
Again returned; the wintry breezes sleep;

The meadows laugh; and warm the zephyr falls
On ocean's breast, and calms the fearful deep.

Now spring your cables, loiterers ! Spread your sails! O'er the smooth surface of the water roam !

So shall your vessel glide with friendly gales,

And fraught with foreign treasure waft you home.

THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS.

From the Æneid of Virgil, Book I.

HE said, and with his spear struck wide

The portals of the mountain side.

At once, like soldiers in a band,

Forth rush the winds, and scour the land;
Then lighting heavily on the main,

East, South, and West, with storms in train,
Heave from its depth the watery floor,
And roll great billows to the shore.
Then come the clamour and the shriek,
The sailors shout, the main-ropes creak:
All in a moment sun and skies

Are blotted from the Trojans' eyes;
Black night is brooding o'er the deep,
Sharp thunder peals, live lightnings leap;
The stoutest warrior holds his breath,
And looks as on the face of death.

At once Æneas thrilled with dread:
Forth from his breast, with hands outspread,
These groaning words he drew :

"O happy thrice and yet again,
Who died at Troy like valiant men,
E'en in their parents' view!

O Diomed, first of Greeks in fray,
Why pressed I not the plain that day,
Yielding my life to you,

THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS.

Where stretched beneath a Phrygian sky
Fierce Hector, tall Sarpedon, lie;

Where Simoïs tumbles 'neath his wave
Shields, helms, and bodies of the brave?"

Now, howling from the North, the gale,
While thus he moans him, strikes his sail;
The swelling surges climb the sky;
The shattered oars in splinters fly ;
The prow turns round, and to the tide
Lays broad and bare the vessel's side;
On comes a billow, mountain-steep,
Bears down, and tumbles in a heap.
These stagger on the billows' crest;
Those to the yawning depth deprest
See land appearing 'mid the waves,
While surf with sand in turmoil raves.
Three ships the South has caught and thrown
On scarce-hid rocks, as Altars known,

Ridging the main, a reef of stone.

Three more fierce Eurus from the deep,

A sight to make the gazer weep,

Drives on the shoals, and banks them round

With sand, as with a rampire-mound.

One, which erewhile from Lycia's shore

Orontes and his people bore,

E'en in Æneas' anguished sight,

A sea down crashing from the height
Strikes full astern; the pilot, torn
From off the helm, is headlong borne ;
Three turns the foundered vessel gave,
Then sank beneath the engulfing wave.

2

II

There in the vast abyss are seen

The swimmers, few and far between ;
And warriors' arms and shattered wood
And Trojan treasures strew the flood.
And now Ilioneus, and now

Aletes old and gray,

Abas and brave Achates bow

Beneath the tempest's sway ;

Fast drinking in through timbers loose

At every pore the fatal ooze,

Their sturdy barks give way.

JOHN CONINGTON.

THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS.

From the Æneid of Virgil, Book I.

HUS having said, with his inverted spear

THU

He smote the hollow mountain on the side. Then forth the winds, like some great marching host, Vent being given, rush turbulent, and blow In whirling storm abroad upon the lands: Down pressing on the sea from lowest depths Upturned, Eurus and Notus all in one Blowing, and Africus with rainy squalls, Dense on the vast waves rolling to the shore. Then follow clamoring shouts of men, and noise Of whistling cordage. On a sudden, clouds Snatch from the Trojans all the light of day And the great sky. Black night lies on the sea.