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 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 '-ROM -J-JIE ^^ 
 
 ,EK ANTHOLOGY.. 
 
 ', GUN N YON.
 
 BookseUers
 
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 Printed by Dcnlop & Drennan, "Standard" Office, 
 Kilmarnock.
 
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 A CENTURY OF 
 
 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 %\\t ©itck Jlntliologij. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM GUNNYON, 
 
 Author of " A Life of Burns," and " Scottish 
 Life and History in Song and Ballad." 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
 Kilmarnock : Dunlop & Drennan, Printers 
 "Standard " Office. 
 
 188 3. 
 
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 The following Translations, executed at 
 intervals during the last twenty years, appeared 
 from time to time in Kilmarnock or Glasgow 
 journals. They were undertaken solely as a 
 literary solace, and ^v'itli no view to subsequent 
 collection and republication. But during late 
 years I have been asked so often, and by so 
 many, to republish them that I at last reluctantly 
 consented. However, I had got jaded, and I 
 shrank from the labour of revision. But I did 
 them at first as cai'efully as I could, and I am 
 not sure that by revision I should have unproved 
 them. Still, if I did not thmk they had some 
 merit, especially that of fidelity, no solicitation, 
 however urgent, would have induced me to 
 republish. 
 
 The name of the translators of the Gioek 
 
 *} 
 
 80487
 
 Anthology, to a larger or smaller extent, is 
 Legion, and among these have been some of our 
 countrymen the most eminent for scholarship 
 and poetic genius. This effort of mine, there- 
 fore, may appear presumptuous ; but I am 
 neither weak enough nor vain enough to enter 
 the lists as a rival to these, nor do I offer my 
 little book as a critical guide. It pleased me in 
 the production, and it seems to have pleased a 
 sufficient number of, it may be, partial friends 
 to justify mc in clothing it in this form. So far 
 from its being intended as a critical guide there 
 is neither chronological classification, nor even 
 that by subjects. The versions are set down 
 pretty much in the order in which they were 
 made, and if there is not method there is at 
 least variety. 
 
 In several instances there are two versions of 
 the same epigram, which may be considered 
 superfluous. But for twenty-five years I was a 
 classical teacher, and the double versions are 
 given with something of the complacency of a 
 schoolmaster, to ' ' teach the young idea " that 
 more than one version, and each equally faith- 
 ful, may be made of the same subject by the 
 same person. Besides, some of these are in
 
 blank verse, and such rendering of a short poem, 
 if the only one, however faithful and flowing it 
 may be, is scarcely satisfactory. It indicates a 
 poverty of verbal resource particularly inap- 
 propriate in a translator. Hence the second 
 versions in some species of rhymed measure. 
 
 I have, I confess, undertaken a hazardous and 
 ambitious task, and one apt to challenge damag- 
 ing comparisons. But I have no wish to depre- 
 cate criticism, whatever its verdict, provided it 
 be given with knowledge and fairness. 
 
 Glasgow, December, 1882.
 
 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 KKO.M 
 
 Uite ©itfk Jlnthologp. 
 
 [Antholo(JY, a collection of flowem, a term 
 given to a book consisting of a series of choice 
 thoughts, sometimes in prose, but usually in 
 verse. It is most frecj^uently applied to that 
 great collection of short epigrammatic pieces, 
 the Greek Anthology, ranging over more than 
 a thousand years, from Simonides of Ceos (490 
 B.C.) to the sixth century of our era. The first 
 collection, made by Meleager the Syrian, about 
 60 B.C., has perished, as have also other col- 
 lections by Philip of Thessalonica, Diogenianus 
 of Heraclea, Straton of Sardis, and Agathias 
 (550 A.M. ) Two collections have been preserved,
 
 10 
 
 that of Constantine Cephalas, about S)'2U a.u., 
 now known as the Palatine Anthology, the 
 mannsciipt of which was discovered by Sal- 
 niasius in the library of the Elector Palatine at 
 Heidelberg in 1606, and published by Brunck 
 (1772-6) ; and that of Maximus Planudes, a 
 monk of the 14th century, founded on the 
 Anthology of Agathias, and printed at Florence 
 in 1494 by John Lascaris. Many editions of 
 this have been published ; the latest, begun by 
 Bosch in 1795, was finished by Lennep in 1822. 
 This contains the Latin version of Grotius. 
 Planudes seems to have for the most part 
 merely re-airangcd or abridged the collection of 
 Cephalas. Jacobs re-etlited Brunck at Leipzig 
 (1794-1814). These bright consummate flowers 
 have long been the delight of scholars, many of 
 whom have translated such of them as most 
 pleased their fancy. The best known transla- 
 tions are those of Bland and Merivale. In com- 
 mending the Greek Anthology 1 have been 
 sometimes jestingly asked — " ^V'hat do 1 know 
 or care about Greek ?" But as Professor 
 Jebb well puts it -"Love, art, mourning for the 
 dead, the whole range of human interests and 
 sympathies, lend leaves to this garland of Greek 
 Song." Or to slightly vary Shakspeare — ' ' Had 
 not a Greek eyes? had not a Greek hands, 
 organs, dimensions, senses, aif'ections, passions '! 
 fed with the same food, hurt with the same 
 weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed 
 by the same means, warmed and cooled by the 
 sa,me winter and sunmier, as a Briton is?" And 
 so, to those wiio think with Terence nothing 
 human alien from tiiem, the (h-eek Anthology 
 is full of meaning and interest.]
 
 11 
 I. 
 
 ANACREON. 
 
 [Anacreox, a lyric poet, and a native of Teos, 
 a city on the coast of Ionia, flourished about 530 
 B.C. His poetry was entirely amatory and con- 
 vivial, his unfailing themes being love, wine, 
 and the lyre. Of tlie Samian wine it is said in 
 Byron's "Isles of (ireece " — 
 
 " It made Anacreon's Song divine." 
 It is added that 
 
 " He serveil, but served Polycrates," 
 the tyrant of Samos, at whose brilliant Court the 
 poet lived for some time. He afterwards went to 
 Athens, living at the Court of Hipparchus, sou 
 of the tyrant Peisistratus, and is there said to 
 have met with Simonides. He is also said to 
 have lived in Thessaly with the Aleuidre. His 
 death, which occurred in his eighty-fifth year, 
 is generally attributed to his having been choked 
 by a grape-stone, while on a voyage from Abdera 
 to his native isle. The collection of about sixty 
 short pieces, which passes under his name, is 
 spurious, and is said to have been first made in 
 the tenth century. Tlie several pieces were 
 probably all composed during the Christian era, 
 some of them as late as 500 a.d. These were 
 translated into English verse by Thomas Moore, 
 and published in 1 801 . In their gaiety and love 
 of pleasure the Greek and the Irish poet strongly 
 resembled each other. Both were emphatically 
 men of society, and aftected the company of the 
 great. The few genuine fragments of Anacreon 
 are marked by grace and sweetness, and exhibit 
 a genuine turn for gentle satire.]
 
 12 
 
 I'd sing the bold Atreidse, 
 
 I'd sing Bceotia's Loi'd ; 
 But the lyre to nought will answer 
 
 But Love with every chord. 
 
 My lyre I altered lately, 
 
 I strung it all anew — 
 
 And the toils of bold Alcides 
 I sang in numbers due. 
 
 Still the lyre responded only 
 To Love with every sound : 
 
 Farewell, henceforth, ye heroes — 
 To Love my lyre is bound ! 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 IL 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Once at the liour of midnight, 
 
 NV'hen turning is the Bear 
 By the guiding of Bootes, 
 
 And o'erpowered by work and care, 
 
 Speech-gifted mortals slumber ; — 
 
 Then Cupid, drawing near. 
 Took to beating at my portals. 
 
 Which biod me meikle fear. 
 
 " Who's knocking so untimely?" 
 I called, " you'll break my dreams." 
 
 " 0, let me in," says Cupid, 
 " For 'tis not as it seems.
 
 13 
 
 I'm but a child, don't tremble, 
 
 I'm drenched into the skin ; 
 Through the moonless night I've wandered, 
 
 And fain would be within." 
 
 This hearing, I had pity, 
 
 And at once procured a light ; 
 I opened, and before me 
 
 Stood a child in woful pliglit. 
 
 A handy bow he carried, 
 
 Wmgs, and a quiver too ; 
 I placed him by the ingle, 
 
 And without more ado 
 
 With my palms I chafed his fingers, 
 Squeezed the water from his hair ; 
 
 And when the cold had vanished, 
 He said, " Kind host, forbear I 
 
 This bow, come, let us test it, — 
 Let us see how far its cord, 
 
 By being soaked so throughly 
 Is injured for its lord." 
 
 And the roguish urchin bent it, 
 And pierced my liver thorough ; 
 
 And never sting of gad-fly 
 
 Was fraught with greater sorrow. 
 
 Then up he leapt guffawing ; 
 
 Said, " Host, rejoice with me ! 
 My bow has suffered nothing. 
 
 But sore thy heart shall be."
 
 14 
 
 III. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Upon the myrtles tender, 
 And the lotus-leaves so slender, 
 Reclining I'll get mellow, 
 As becomes a right good fellow. 
 Let Love, his tunic binding 
 
 With papyrus round his neck, 
 Busy himself in finding 
 
 Me flowing bowls of sack. 
 For life runs on revolving — 
 
 Like the chariot-wheel it must 
 And we, our bones dissolving. 
 
 Will lie a little dust. 
 
 Why tlien anoint a tombstone ? 
 
 Why pour libations vain ? 
 For me— I had much rather, 
 
 While in life I still reinain. 
 That you'd crown my head with roses, 
 
 My locks perfume with myrrh, 
 And call my gentle mistress. — 
 
 Cupid ! ere I stir 
 From scenes above to mingle 
 
 With the Infernal Choir, 
 All cark and care to scatter 
 
 1 ardently desire.
 
 IV. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Scottke redditum, 
 
 Anacreoii, ilk wife and maid 
 
 Now says, "Thou's getting auld ; 
 
 ' ' Keek in the glass, and quick confess 
 '* That thy pow as a neep is bald. 
 
 " Thy locks are wi' the last year's snaw"- 
 
 "Guid faith, I carena by : 
 ' ' Locks or nae locks, that's nocht to me, 
 
 " Since ae thing weel ken I — 
 
 " That as an auld man's tune is short, 
 " Nae moment maun he tyne ; 
 
 " But droun his fears o' comin' fate 
 " In draughts o' Luve and Wine." 
 
 V. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 The Muses finding blooming Love, 
 
 Rosy fetters round him wo^'e, 
 
 And straightway bore the captive God 
 
 To Beauty in her bright abode. 
 
 His mother, Venus, quickly brings 
 
 A ransom of all precious things, 
 
 To free the prisoner from his chains ; 
 
 But he a willing slave remains ; 
 
 Nor would he go though he were free. 
 
 For Beauty's thrall he swears he'll be.
 
 16 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 My love, fly not, beholding 
 
 These looks of mine so grey ; 
 Nor, though thy beauty's blossom 
 
 Be bright and sweet as May, 
 Reject my fond caresses ; 
 
 Than these stately lilies hoar, 
 In this garland twined with roses, 
 
 No flowers delight us more. 
 
 :o: 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 When appeai-s the joyous Spring, 
 
 Round our path the Graces fling 
 
 Roses, and the roaiing sea 
 
 Is hushed as l:)y a lullaby. 
 
 Dives the duck in streams again, 
 
 Comes the migratory crane. 
 
 Shines the sun with 25urest ray. 
 
 Cloudy shadows fly away. 
 
 Works of mortals brightly l)eam. 
 
 Willow blossoms richly teem ; 
 
 Richly teems the olive bough, 
 
 Tendrils circle Bacchus' brow ; 
 
 Every branch in every bower 
 
 Is clothed with fruit as twig with flower.
 
 17 
 
 VIII. 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Love, as once he lay among 
 The roses, had his finger stung 
 By a bee he had not seen : 
 Then lustily he cried, I ween. 
 And now running, and now flying, 
 
 To Cj'thera fair he came : — 
 " 0, my mother, I am dying, — 
 
 Hand and arm are all aflame. 
 A small wing'd serpent called a bee 
 By husbandmen, has wounded me." 
 She replying, archly said — 
 " If a bee-sting makes thee smart. 
 How think'st thou, Cupid, those have sped 
 Whom thou hast smitten to the heart ?" 
 
 :o:- 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 I call not him a friend. 
 
 Who, o'er the flowing bowl. 
 
 Of brawls and tearful wars 
 Talks loud with boastful soul. 
 
 But he's one who reminds me. 
 As he drinks, of healthful Mirth, 
 
 And how Venus and the Muses 
 Make a heaven of the earth.
 
 18 
 
 X. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Blest we deem thee, Grasshopper, 
 Happy, tiny reveller ! 
 Quaffing dewdrops thou dost sing 
 On the tree-tops like a king. 
 What thou seeest in the fields. 
 What the leafy forest yields, 
 What the varied Hours produce — 
 All is thine to freely use ; 
 And the farmer loveth thee, 
 For thou livest harmlessly ; 
 And to mortals thou art dear. 
 Summer's gentle harbinger ! 
 Kind to thee the Muses prove, 
 Thee Apollo's self doth love, 
 Giving thee a tuneful voice ; 
 Nor doth age impair thy joys. 
 Skilful minstrel, born of Earth, 
 Loving music, loving mirth, 
 Without suffering, without blood, 
 Thou art happy as a god !
 
 19 
 
 XI. 
 
 LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. 
 
 [Leonidas of Tarentum wrote fully a hundred, 
 epif^rams (according to Meineke 108) in the 
 Doric dialect, and these were inwoven by 
 Meleager in his Garland. Some of them, 
 however, are thought by Brunck to belong pro- 
 perly to Leonidas of Alexandria. He seems, 
 from hints scattered through his epigrams, to 
 have lived in the time of Pyrrhus. In the table 
 prefixed to Liddell and Scott's Lexicon it is 
 recorded— ^ori<i< 280 B.C. After a wandering 
 life he died far from his native Tarentum.] 
 
 On this fair-fashioned marble stands 
 
 The bard, Anacreon, 
 Flooded with wine, a garland gay 
 
 His hoary head upon. 
 
 The aged toper looks around 
 With moist and wandermg eye, 
 
 While dangling loosely at his heels 
 His robe you may espy. 
 
 Like silly drunkard, he hath lost 
 
 One of his buskins twain ; 
 And what a lean and shrivelled foot 
 
 The other doth contain ! 
 
 Upraising with his hands his harp. 
 
 He sings the pains of love ; 
 How Bathyllus or Megisteus 
 
 Could all his passions move. 
 
 0, Father Bacchus, hold him up ! 
 
 To let him fall were shame ; 
 Should one so leal sustain mishap, 
 
 Thyself would'st get the blame.
 
 20 
 
 XII. 
 ANTIPATER OF SIDON. 
 
 [Antipater of Sidon wrote several of the epi- 
 grams in the Greek Anthology. He flourished 
 probably 108-100 B.C., and is known to have lived 
 to a great age. He was an elder contemporary 
 of Meleager, who wrote his Epitaph.] 
 
 May four-bunched ivy flourish round thy toml), 
 
 And the soft petals of the meadow fine, 
 Anacreon, and from earth's dear bosom come 
 
 Fountains of whitest milk, and luscious ^\-ine, 
 To give thee pleasure even in the grave — 
 
 If aught of joy the Shades can ever know. 
 Dear bard, lyre-fondler, who with heart so brave, 
 
 With song and love through life did'st joyous go ! 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 XIII. 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Among the dead, Anacreon, thou sleepest 
 
 After brave toils, and thy sweet harp is still — 
 Harp, that when Night's dull shadows were the 
 deepest. 
 
 Thy mistress' ear vnth music used to fill. 
 Sleeps, too, thy Smerdis, Spring of young desires, 
 
 To whom the harp, impinged with skilful hand, 
 Stirred in her bosom Love's luxurious fires, 
 
 Pouring of harmony the nectar bland. 
 Thou wast, indeed, a target for Love's dart, — 
 
 Love, the rich Ixrthright of the youthful breast: 
 His bow and shafts far-darting made thee smart, 
 
 But now Love's fever's o'er, and tliou hast rest.
 
 21 
 
 XIV. 
 
 HYBRIAS THE CRETAN. 
 
 [Hybrias of Crete, a lyric poet, was the 
 author of the following scholion, preserved by 
 Athenaeus, and Eustathius, and also in the 
 Greek Anthology.] 
 
 These are my ample riches : 
 
 My doughty spear and glaive. 
 And a raw-hide-covered buckler, 
 
 My body's bulwark brave. 
 This is my plough and sickle, 
 
 This treads the grape's sweet wine, 
 By this I'm hailed as Master, 
 
 And house and slaves are mine. 
 
 But those who dare not brandish 
 
 The doughty spear and glaive, 
 And never make a bulwark 
 
 Of the raw-hide buckler brave ; 
 Down at my feet the dastards 
 
 Their suppliant bodies iling, 
 And humbly own their Master, 
 
 And hail me— Mighty King !
 
 22 
 
 XV. 
 
 CALLISTRATUS. 
 
 [Callistratus was the author of this song on 
 Harmodius, the slayer of the tyrant Hipparchus. 
 It was highly popular in antiquity. The be- 
 ginning is preserved in Huidas, and in the 
 scholiast on Aristophanes, and the whole in 
 Athenaeus. In Liddell and Scott he is noted, 
 but with an interrogative mark, as having 
 flourished 160 B.C.] 
 
 My sword-wreath shall the myrtle be, 
 Like our patriots of renown, 
 When they clove the tyrant down, 
 
 And gave Athens Liberty. 
 
 Harmodius dear, thou art not dead ! 
 But in the Islands of the Blest 
 With fleet Achilles thou dost rest, 
 
 And Tydeus' son, great Diomede. 
 
 In myrtle will I wreath my blade. 
 Like our patriots of renown. 
 When they clove Hipparchus down. 
 
 Where Athena's rites were paid. 
 
 Immortal in the land shall be. 
 Dear patriots, your high renown ! 
 For ye clove the tyrant down, 
 
 And gave Athens Liberty.
 
 •23 
 
 XVI. 
 
 [Of the works of M sop, the fabulist, none are 
 extant, and of his life almost nothing is known. 
 He appears to have lived about 570 b.c, while 
 Clinton assigns his birth to about 620 B.C., and 
 he is supposed to have died about 564 B.C., or 
 perhaps somewhat later. Some writers deny 
 that he ever existed at all, and was merely an 
 abstraction. However, fables bearing his name 
 were the delight of the Athenians, and are often 
 referred to by Aristophanes. In their present 
 prose foi-m they are certainly spurious.] 
 
 Except through Death how can we flee, 
 O Life, the ills imposed by thee. 
 Which, fruitful sources of despair, 
 We cannot shun, yet cannot bear ? 
 
 Sweet are the works of Nature's hand. 
 The Stars, the Sea, the varied Land, 
 The silver Moon that rules the Night, 
 The glorious Sun's resplendent light ! 
 
 But all besides is Fear and Pain ; 
 Or, if a transient Bliss we gain, 
 Soon Retribution undeceives, 
 And he who joyed more deeply grieves.
 
 24 
 
 XVII. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 [The ancient grammarians in their references 
 frequently confound Plato the comic poet with 
 Plato the philosopher-. The former flourished 
 from 428 B.C. to at least 389 B.C. The latter 
 was born about 428 B.C. (Clinton makes it 429) 
 and died in his 81 st, or according to others in 
 his 84th year, about 347 B.C.] 
 
 Aster, my Star, thy beaming eye 
 With pleasure scans the starry skies ; 
 
 Would that I were yon vault on high 
 To scan thy charms with thousand eyes ! 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Oh ! that I were the summer wind, 
 
 When to the liglit thy breast is bare. 
 My pathway to that breast to find. 
 
 And breathe upon the sweetness there. 
 Oh ! that I were you rose so red. 
 
 That rapture through my frame might glow, 
 When thou did'st pluck me from my bed 
 
 To place me on thy breast of snow.
 
 25 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Give this old delver in thy breast repose 
 
 After his many toils, dear Earth, for thee ; 
 He toiled, and on thy slopes the vineyard rose, 
 
 And in thy vales the olive's fruitful tree. 
 He robed thy plains with corn, his trenches led 
 
 To herbage, plant, and tree the dewy wave : 
 Lie lightly, therefore, on his hoary head, 
 
 And with Spring's choicest flowers begem his 
 grave. 
 
 -:o: 
 
 XX. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Worn out by age and want, no hand I found 
 Outstretched to soothe the sorrows of my lot ; 
 
 With trembling limbs I crept beneath this mound, 
 And here entombed life's bitterness forgot. 
 
 Death's law I thus reversed — oh, difference wide! 
 
 Not died, then buried: buried first, then died.
 
 •26 
 
 XXI. 
 
 ACHILLES TATIUS. 
 
 [Achilles Tatius, or according to Suiclas 
 Statips, an Alexandiian rhetorician and erotic 
 writer, and an imitator of Heliodorus, was at 
 one time supposed to have lived in the 2nd or 
 3rd century of our era, but is now ascertained 
 to belong either to the latter half of the 5th, or 
 to the beginning of the 6th century. His ro- 
 mance of Cleitophon and Leucippe, from which 
 the following extract is taken, records the ad- 
 ventures of two lovers. It abounds in imitations 
 of writers of every age of- Greek literature, is 
 thoroughly rhetorical in style, but offends con- 
 stantly against decency and morality.] 
 
 Were Jove to give the flowers a queen, 
 His choice would be the rose, I ween. 
 Of earth she is the glory bright. 
 Of plants the splendour and delight ; 
 Of flowers the eye, of meads the blush. 
 With lightning fires her beauties flush. 
 She breathes of love, and in her breast 
 Love's gentle queen's an honoured guest. 
 Of greenest leaves she wears a ti'ess 
 Sparkling in dewy loveliness ; 
 And her luxuriant honours move 
 In mirth to all the winds that rove ; 
 While pleased the glowing wanton smiles 
 If zephyr to her breast she wiles.
 
 27 
 
 XXII. 
 
 MELEAGER. 
 
 [Meleager, the Syrian, a native of Gadara, in 
 Palestine, lived about 60 B.C. The Greek An- 
 thology contains 131 epigrams of his, affected 
 indeed, but informed with knowledge of life and 
 character, trenchant, and full of amatory fancy. 
 His Garland, a term applied to small beautiful 
 poems, commonly compared to flowers, consists 
 of epigrams from not fewer than 46 poets, of all 
 ages of Greek poetry, even the most ancient. 
 To the names of the several poets he attaches in 
 his introduction the names of various flowers, 
 shrubs, and herbs, which he supposes to be 
 emblematic of their particular genius. This 
 Garland was arranged in alphabetical order, 
 according to the initial letters of the tirst line of 
 each epigram. 
 
 Among the loci classici which deal with flowers 
 are the well-known passages in Shakspeare and 
 Milton— in the "Winter's Tale" and "Lycidas" 
 respectively — and Burns's Posie, tirst printed 
 among the songs in Johnson's 4th vol., Aug. 1.3, 
 1792. The Scottish bard commingles the hours 
 of the day and the seasons of the year in his 
 Posie, in spite of the "Unities," and is defended 
 for this lapse by Professor Wilson, with that 
 headlong and dictatorial impetuosity which has 
 done the Ayrshire ploughman no good with the 
 critical of other nationalities.]
 
 28 
 
 The Wreath. 
 
 I'll twine white violets, and narcissus twine, 
 
 With myrtles soft, and laughing lilies fair ; 
 
 Sweet crocus I will twine, and superadd 
 
 The purple hyacinth, and I will twine 
 
 The queenly rose, to lovers ever dear ; 
 
 So that on Heliodora's temples bright, 
 
 Where play her perfumed locks, a wreath may 
 
 bloom 
 In fragrant beauty 'mid her clustering hair. 
 
 :o: 
 
 Otherioise. 
 
 White violets I will twine, and interweave 
 
 Narcissus with the myrtle's tender spray ; 
 The lily's smile my garland shall relieve, 
 
 And the sweet crocus add its yellow ray ; 
 The purple hyacinth I'll also twine. 
 
 With roses that inform the lover's song, 
 So that on Heliodora's head may shine 
 
 A wreath, her clustering myrrh-sprent locks 
 among.
 
 29 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 RUFINUS. 
 
 [RuFiNUS, the author of 38 epigrams in the 
 Greek Anthology, and perhaps of one more, was 
 apparently, from internal evidence, a Byzantine, 
 and his verses resemble in their light-hearted 
 amatory character those of Agathias, Paulus, 
 and Macedonius. Beyond conjecture his age 
 cannot be clearly indicated.] 
 
 To thee, my Rhodoclea, do I send 
 
 This garland of fair flowers, which I myself 
 
 With mine own hands have twined. The lily's 
 
 here, 
 Dewy anemon6, and the sweet rose-cup, 
 Narcissus moist, and violet darkly-bright. 
 Place these upon thy head, but 0, my Fair ! 
 Be not vain-glorious, for thou bloom'st and fad'st 
 As blooms and fades this short-lived flowery 
 
 crown. 
 
 -:o: 
 
 Othertvise. 
 
 I send thee, Rodocl6, this garland fair 
 
 Of choicest flowers by mine own hands en- 
 twined ; 
 The lily, rose-cup, and the wind-flower's hair. 
 
 Glittering with dew, are meetly here enshrined 
 "With moist narciss and dark-blue violet. 
 
 Crown thy fair head with these, but 0, sweet 
 Maid, 
 Cast foolish pride away, nor e'er forget 
 
 That like this fragile wreath thou bloom'st to 
 fade.
 
 30 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 MELEAGER. 
 
 Now the white violet blooms — narcissus blooms 
 Shower-loving — and hill-haunting lilies bloom : 
 Now, too, Zenophil6— the flower mature, 
 Flower among flowers, beloved by lovers all, 
 The sweet rose of Persuasion — is in bloom. 
 Why do ye laugh, ye meadows, in the gay 
 Superfluous sheen of leaves, since she I love 
 Than sweetest breathing garlands is more sweet ? 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 Otherioise. 
 
 Blooms the white violet, blooms narcissus dank, 
 
 And blooms the lily on hill sides that grows; 
 Blooms in its prime, of flowers the first in rank, 
 
 Zenophil(5, Persuasion's flower, the rose, 
 For ever sacred in the lover's sight. 
 
 Why joyous smile in vain, ye meadows green, 
 In pride of leaves ? ISIore fragrant and more 
 bright. 
 
 My girl, than sweetest garlands e'er have been. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 My Jenny's voice falls sweeter on my ears 
 Than Phoebus' lyre, or music of the spheres.
 
 31 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Oh, Heliodora ! tears for thee, 
 
 though now the bride of Death, 
 All that is left affection dear 
 
 to Hades I bequeath ; 
 Tears wrung by anguish, and a stream 
 
 of fond regrets I pour 
 Upon thy tomb, memorials sad 
 
 of joys that come no more. 
 Thee sadly, sadly, my beloved, 
 
 I, Meleager, moui-n. 
 Though 'mong the dead — a useless gift 
 
 to Acheron thou art borne. 
 Where's my regretted blossom, where ? 
 
 Dis caished it in the tomb ; 
 And, ah ' the cruel dust defiled 
 
 my flower in all its bloom. 
 But on my knees, All-nurturing Earth, 
 
 I make this one request — 
 Fold gently my lamented one, 
 
 Mother, to thy breast ! 
 
 :o:- 
 
 XXVII. 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Not Hymen, but the Bridegroom Death 
 
 fair Clearista found. 
 When she upon the bridal night 
 
 her virgin zone unbound. 
 Now at her gate the music sweet 
 
 of the evening flutes arose,
 
 32 
 
 Now heard a clashing as the doors 
 
 of the nuptial chamber close. 
 At morn the hymeneal strains 
 
 in gushing gladness flow ; 
 But, quickly changed, they die away 
 
 in wailing notes of woe ; 
 And the same torches that had lit 
 
 the way to the bride-bed, 
 With mournful lustre now illumed 
 
 her passage to the Dead. 
 
 :o: 
 
 XXVIII. 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 Venus, who sav'st those on wild ocean tost, 
 Save me, a friend, shipwrecked on land, and lost! 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 PALLADAS. 
 
 [Palladas, probably an Alexandrian gram- 
 marian, wrote a large number of the epigrams 
 in the Greek Anthology, which some account 
 among the best, but others among the most 
 worthless, in the collection. Whether he was a 
 Christian or a Pagan has been questioned ; but 
 his epigram on the edict of Theodosius for the 
 destruction of the Pagan temples and idols 
 establishes beyond dispute that he was no 
 Christian.] 
 What boots it to be rich ? When to the grave 
 
 Men haul you, yonmustleave your gold behind. 
 You waste your time when wealth you hoard 
 and save. 
 
 For not an hour to life is thus assigned.
 
 33 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THEOGNIS. 
 
 [Theognis (540 B.C.), a Dorian noble of Me- 
 gara, and the most copious of the early Greek 
 elegists, an aristocrat, and an utterer of wise 
 saws, was, though he used the Ionic dialect, 
 a standard author in Attic schools. So current 
 did his wise and quaint sayings become in 
 Attica, that a common proverb M'as, ' ' I knew 
 that before Theognis was boi'n." His politics 
 were Conservative.] 
 
 I wish not wealth, either to spend or keep, 
 But just enough, that I may soundly sleep. 
 
 :o: — 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 JULIAN, PREFECT OF EGYPT. 
 
 [Julian, an imitator of earlier Greek poems 
 of various kinds, is the author of 71 epigrams in 
 the Greek Anthology, referring mostly to works 
 of art. He lived in the reign of Justinian.] 
 
 While wreathing once a garland 
 
 For the tresses of my fair, ^ 
 
 I culled the dewy roses, 
 
 And found Love lurking there. 
 I seized him by his pinions. 
 
 And plunged him in the bowl, 
 Then quaffed — and now strange ticklings 
 
 For ever stir my soul.
 
 34 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 
 
 Young I was poor ; now old I rich have grown ; 
 In each case cursed with misery all mine own. 
 AVhen wealth could joy impart then I had none; 
 Now when 'tis mine enjoyment all is gone. 
 
 :o: 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 BACCHYLIDES. 
 
 [Bacchylides, the nephew and townsman of 
 Simonides, and who lived like him at the Court 
 of Hieron (470 B.C.) was a brilliant and graceful 
 lyrist. He was the eulogist of peace, a reaction 
 having taken place from the warlike spirit that 
 had been evoked l)y the struggle with Persia. 
 His fragments have been published by Neue and 
 by Bergk.] 
 
 Great are the blessings peace on man bestows — 
 Wealth, and the flowers of poets honey-tongued. 
 And on the doedal altars to the Gods 
 Burn in the ruddy flame fat oxen's thighs, 
 And thighs of well-wooUed slieep ; meanwhile 
 
 the youths 
 Disport in the gymnasium, and the sounds 
 Of revelry and piping cliarm the car. 
 In the shield's iron-bound handles are the webs 
 Of the black spider, and steel-pointed spears 
 And two-edged swords by mould and rust con- 
 sume. 
 No more is heard the brazen trumpet's blare, 
 Aftrighting from the eyelids gentle sleep 
 Tliat soothes my soul, and joyous banquets fill 
 The festive streets, and songs of youths resound.
 
 35 
 
 Otherwise. 
 
 Oreat are the boons, and manifold, 
 
 By Peace bestowed on men : 
 The comforts that are bought with gold, 
 
 The poet's honied pen. 
 
 8 
 
 And from the dsedal altars rise. 
 
 As flame doth roar and leap. 
 The smoke of many a sacrifice 
 
 Of ox and fleecy sheep. 
 
 The youths in the gymnasiiim 
 
 Through friendly strife grow strong ; 
 
 The pipe's shrill notes not unbecome 
 The revel and the song. 
 
 On iron handles of the shields 
 
 The spider's webs appear, 
 And to the rust's corrosion yields 
 
 The steel of sword and spear. 
 
 Mute is the brazen trumpet's blare. 
 
 Nor from mine eyelid flees 
 Soul-soothing sleep, which Tumults scare, 
 
 And only dwells with Ease. 
 
 The Feast's restoring sweets abound, 
 
 And tables line the street ; 
 While songs of youth'and maid resound. 
 
 And prance of merry feet.
 
 :i() 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 EVENUS THE ELDER. 
 
 [EvENiTS THE Elder.— The epigrams in the 
 Greek Anthology under the name of Evenus are 
 the productions of different poets. The elder 
 Evenus flourished 1.30 B.C., and was the instructor 
 of Socrates in poetry. From a passage in Plato 
 it may be inferred that he was alive at the time 
 of the death of Socrates.] 
 
 The Swallow and the Grasshopper. 
 
 Attic maiden, honey-fed, 
 Hast thou, prattler, ravished 
 The prattling grasshopper for food 
 To thy hungry callow brood ? 
 Both are ever chirruping. 
 Both expand a beauteous wing : 
 Coming both when summer's nigh — 
 The sununer bird, the summer fly ! 
 Quickly, quickly, let him go, 
 0, 'twere wrong to work him woe ! 
 Those whose life is song alway 
 Never should on singers prey.
 
 37 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 MELEAGER. 
 
 Shrill-sounding grasshopper, on dewy drops 
 Inebriate, thou sing'st thy rural song, 
 Gladdening with sound the solitary place. 
 And, sitting on the tree-tops, thou dost pour 
 The lyre's sweet music from thy dusky sides. 
 Striking them with thy Inroad and saw-like limbs. 
 But O, loved one, some new and sportive lay 
 Chant to the wood nymphs, chirruping a strain 
 To Pan responsive, that, eluding love, 
 I may secure my noontide slumber here, 
 Reclined beneath this plane-tree's welcome shade. 
 
 :o: 
 
 Otherwise. 
 
 0, Grasshopper, with voice so shrill, 
 Tipsy with dewdrops, thou dost fill 
 With rural melody the woods. 
 And cheer'st with song the solitudes. 
 Perched on the tree-tops thou dost pour 
 The lyre's sweet tones the landscape o'er. 
 Whene'er tliy broad, indented feet 
 Thy dusky wings in cadence beat. 
 Loved one, some new and sportive strain 
 Chirp to the wood nymphs' gentle train, 
 That Pan on oaten pipe may play 
 In turn a sweet, responsive lay, 
 And I, eluding Cupid, find 
 Beneath the plane tree's shade I'eclined, 
 The noontide slumber that is dear 
 To all who love and labour here. 
 
 'dsO'isr
 
 38 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 I ARIPHRON OF SICYON. 
 
 [Ariphron of Sicyon wrote the accompanying 
 ptean to liealtli, which has been preserved by 
 Athanaeus. The beginning is quoted Ijy Lucian, 
 and also by Maximus Tyrixis.] 
 
 Health, venerable heavenly Power, 
 
 May I abide with thee. 
 Oh, gladly to Life's latest hour 
 
 My Fellow-lodger be ! 
 For all the joys that wealth can bring, 
 The pleasures that from children spiing, 
 The circumstance, the pomp and pride, 
 By which the monarch's deified ; 
 The raptures which we wildly cliase 
 To snare in furtive Love's embrace ; 
 Whatever other joy is given 
 To mortals l)y benignant Heaven ; 
 If ever from our toils we find 
 A grateful breathing space assigned ; 
 With thee all these in Ijeauty flower, 
 And shines the Graces' vernal Hour : 
 For never can we happy be 
 Unless, blest Health, we dwell with thee !
 
 39 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 MIMNERMUS. 
 
 [MiMNERMUS of Smyrna (620 B.C.), a con- 
 temporary of Solon, by whom in an extant 
 fragment he is addressed as still living, was 
 an elegiac poet full of Ionian softness and 
 voluptuousness, and devoted to the enjoyment of 
 life through the senses. His themes were the 
 instability of happiness, the brief term of human 
 enjoyment, and the miseries of age. Love was 
 the only solace of life.] 
 
 Like leaves which Spring of many flowers 
 
 Produces in her sunny Ijowers, 
 
 A few precarious short-lived hours 
 Youth's blossoms gladden. 
 
 Ere good and evil's changeful powers 
 Life's pleasures sadden. 
 
 Two scowling Fates beside us stand ; 
 One, cheeiiess Age, with palsied hand ; 
 One, Death, that rules the Silent Land — 
 
 The realm of Shades. 
 Youth's fruit, like vernal sunbeams bland, 
 
 Too quickly fades. 
 And when its gorgeous bloom is fled 
 Like palls, 'twere better to be dead : 
 Ills circle every hapless head ; 
 
 Domestic broils — 
 Paintings of heart for want of bread, 
 
 And sordid toils. 
 
 One sighs for children, yet of these 
 None by his dying bed he sees ; 
 Another's soul by fell disease 
 
 Is tortured sore ; 
 To every mortal Heaven decrees 
 
 Of ills a store.
 
 40 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 "Wanting golden Aphrodite 
 
 "What is life, and what is sweet ? 
 &c., &c. 
 
 I will proceed no further with a literal version 
 of this plain-spoken epigram ; for, to quote 
 Horace, 
 
 " Vinjinihus puerisque canto ;" 
 
 and the old pagan expresses himself with an 
 abandon which would be intolerable at this time 
 of day. But he does so ^vithout conscious indeli- 
 cacy, or studied prurience. His muse here re- 
 sembles that Scottish nymph, of whom it is 
 recorded in song that 
 
 " High-kilted was she 
 As she gaed o'er the lea." 
 
 Therefore I shall drape her decorously, and pro- 
 vide her with an ampler kirtle, which shall be 
 of good Scotch homespun. It must be remem- 
 bered that the times change, and we change 
 with them. "What was not indecorous in heathen- 
 dom, fully two millenniums ago, is not exactly 
 suitable in Christendom now. Anyone gifted 
 with the faculty of song may lilt the following 
 version to the tune of " Green grow the rashes, 
 0." 
 
 0, what is sweet, and most complete, 
 And w-hat most truly blesses, ? 
 
 Sure, 'tis when Venus blithely blinks. 
 And shores us rowth o' lasses, 0.
 
 41 
 
 When I the jauds nae langer please 
 Methinks I'll tryst my coffin, O ; 
 
 Sae while my youth's fresh flower's in bloom 
 I'll kiss and clap wi' daffin, 0. 
 
 When croichlin', hirplin' Eld comes on 
 Wi' a' its pains and wrinkles, 0, 
 
 Care presses sair on ilka han', 
 The e'e nae langer twinkles, 0. 
 
 The sun shines cauld, wejffley the bairns, 
 We're uocht to bonnie lasses, ; 
 
 .Syne pu' the gowan while ye may, 
 For Springtime soon it passes, 0. 
 
 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 [Sappho(6I0b.c.X Byron's " burning Sappho, " 
 a poetess of wonderful genius, was a native of 
 Mitylene, and along with Alcaeus one of the 
 two great leaders of the Aeolian school of lyric 
 poetry. Her soul attuned to all the harmonies 
 of form and sound, she was the willmg slave 
 of the Beautiful. The few fragments of her 
 works that remain, chiefly erotic, are surcharged 
 with the finest melody. She equals Alcaeus in 
 genius, and excels him in grace and sweetness. 
 She is said to have died in Sicily, and from her 
 the Sapphic stauza takes its name. Her leaping' 
 into the sea from the Leucadian promontory 
 through disappointed love, whence the phrase 
 " The Lover's Leap," is probably fabulous.] 
 
 The Moon has set, the Pleiads too ; 
 
 Midnight has come aud gone ; 
 The trysted hour is long, long past — 
 
 And still I am alone !
 
 42 
 
 XL. 
 
 CALLIMACHUS. 
 
 [Calltmachus (260 B.C.), a celebrated Alex- 
 andrian grammariau and poet, wrote Hymns to 
 the Gods, epigrams, and elegies, of which only 
 a few fragments remain. His prose works on 
 mythology, history, and literature are com- 
 pletely lost. Catullus translated his " Lock of 
 Berenice " ; Ovid imitated his " Ibis," and 
 took the idea of his " Fasti " from his " Aitia " 
 or "Origins."] 
 
 One told me, Heraclitus, thou wert dead ; 
 
 And, as the salt tears gushed, I called to mind 
 How oft we twain had talked the sun to bed. 
 
 But thou, my Halicarnassian guest-friend kind, 
 Long since art dust ; yet live thine Elegies ; 
 
 Pertains to plundering Death no power o'er 
 these. 
 
 •:o: 
 
 XLI. 
 
 LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. 
 
 'Tis time to sail: mild Zephyr comes once more; 
 
 The twittering swallow builds her proci-eant 
 nest ; 
 The meadows bloom, and hushed is ocean's I'oar, 
 
 The billows and the blasts now laid to rest. 
 Sailor, the anchor weigh, the ropes set free. 
 
 Spread thy Inoad canvas to the favouring wind : 
 Tlu; harbour's lord, Priapus, biddeth thee, 
 
 And thou from honest trade wilt profit find.
 
 43 
 
 XLII. 
 
 AGATHIAS. 
 
 [Agathias was born in o36 or 537 a.d. at 
 Myrina m Aeolia. He was educated and studied 
 litetature at Alexandria, became an advocate by- 
 profession, and a student of ancient poetry from 
 choice. His woi'ks consist of small love poems, 
 and of 108 epigrams, -which are contained in the 
 Greek Anthology. He Avas also an historian, 
 but had little historical or geographical know- 
 ledge.] 
 
 Eager to know if Ereutho, 
 
 of the beauteous eyes, me loved, 
 With subtle art her tender heart 
 
 delusive thus I moved : 
 " I go," I said, " my lovely maid, 
 
 to dwell on a foreign shore ; 
 But do thou prove unto my love 
 
 unswerving evermore." 
 With grief profoiind and wailing sound 
 
 she smote her forehead fair ; 
 And with her hands she tore the bands 
 
 of her richly -braided hair. 
 " Oh ' do not go, nor leave me so," 
 
 the love-sick maiden sighed ; 
 Then I with art, acting a part, 
 
 consented to abide. 
 In my deep lo\'e I happy prove ; 
 
 for what I most desired. 
 With slow consent as a boon I grant 
 
 by her own dear self required.
 
 44 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Why dread ye Death, that quiet brings to all, 
 Giving to Pain and Poverty surcease ? 
 
 To mortals he can only once befall, 
 No second visit need we for release. 
 
 But manifold and multiform are Pains, 
 
 Which Fate, now here now there, remorseless 
 rains. 
 
 :o: 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 PALLADAS. 
 
 Sarapis in a dream by night 
 
 Stood full before a murderer's sight, 
 
 Who near a tottering structure lay, 
 
 And cried, " Sleep elsewhere, wretch, away !' 
 
 No sooner had he changed his ground 
 
 Than hideous ruin spread around. 
 
 The villain, when the morn arose, 
 
 With ofl'crings to the altar goes, 
 
 Deeming it from the issue clear 
 
 That murderers to the god were dear. 
 
 When next he sought his guilty bed 
 
 The god appeared and sternly said :- 
 
 " Wretch ! deem'st thou that to one like thee 
 
 A god can e'er propitious be ? 
 
 Thy caitiff life I once preserved 
 
 To meet the doom thy crime deserved : 
 
 A painless death is not for thee ; 
 
 Thy guerdon is the gallows-tree."
 
 45 
 
 XLV. 
 HEDYLUS. 
 
 [Hedylus, an epigrammatic poet of Samos or 
 of Athens, lived about the middle of the third 
 century of our era, and is to be classed with the 
 Alexandrian school of poets. His epigrams, 
 most of which are in praise of wine, and all 
 sportive, were included in the " Garland " of 
 Meleager. ] 
 
 Let us drink ; for we may find 
 Something novel, something kind, 
 Something neat and sweet to say, 
 As we wash dull care away. 
 Drench me still with Chian strong, 
 Saying, " Bard, thy sport prolong !" 
 I should hate to live at all 
 Had I not a flask at call. 
 
 -:o: 
 
 XLVI. 
 PLATO. 
 
 I, Lais, who with haughty smile 
 
 Regarded captive Greece, 
 Alluring with resistless wile 
 
 Young lovers to my knees, 
 To Venus dedicate this glass, 
 
 No more a joy to me : 
 It shows no longer what I was ; 
 
 What now, I will not see.
 
 46 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 ANTIPATER OF SIDON. 
 
 Antigenes of Gelos, ere he died, 
 Spake to his daughter summoned to his side :— 
 "My fair-cheeked ohikl thy distaff ne'er discard, 
 Its gain will ease a life, liowever hard ; 
 And, if a bride, thy mother's virtues show, 
 No dowry could reward a husband so." 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Not through disease, nor l>y the foeman's spear, 
 A daughter and a mother slumber here. 
 When horrid war our native Corinth fired 
 We chose a noble death, by pride inspired. 
 A mother's steel my youthful life-blood drank, 
 And then, self -strangled, in the grave she sank. 
 The lofty soul the tyrant's sway disdains. 
 And death, with freedom, we preferred to chains. 
 
 :0: 
 
 XLIX. 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Few were the themes of song, the words were few. 
 By which Erinna earned the Muse's crown ; 
 
 Therefore she lives in memory ever new. 
 Nor sable night's dark wing can weigh her 
 down. 
 
 But we, the myriad minstrels of to-day, 
 
 Are doomed in heaps to rot on Lethe's shore ; 
 
 For sweeter far the stately swan's brief lay 
 Than chatterings of the daw when winter's o'er.
 
 47 
 
 ERINNA. 
 
 [Erinna, of Telos, (about 612 B.C.), a con- 
 temporary and friend of Sappho, died at nine- 
 teen. She left behind her poems, chiefly of the 
 epic kind, and written in a mixture of Doric and 
 Aeolic, which some thought worthy of ranking 
 with those of Homer. She has a place in the 
 " Garland " of Meleager. Sappho, who was the 
 centre of a female literary society, is said to 
 have been the instructress of Erinna in the 
 technical portion of her art.] 
 Pillars, and mourning Sirens, and sad Urn 
 
 That hold'stfor Hades all the pyre hath spared, 
 Welcome accord to all who hither turn. 
 
 From whate'er land or city they have fared ; 
 And say :— " A vii'gin here hath found her rest, 
 
 Named Baucis by her sire, a high-born chief ; 
 And that Erinna, friend she loved the best, 
 
 Engraved these lines, memorials of her grief." 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 LI. 
 THE SAME. 
 
 The tomb of virgin Baucis, here I stand. 
 
 Stranger, slow-pacing by this pile of woe, 
 Speak thus to Hades in tlie Silent Land: — 
 
 " All human bliss why dost Thou envy so ?" 
 These symbols fair tell thee who dost enquire, 
 
 The untimely fate of her within this tomb. 
 The bridegroom lighted up her funeral pyre 
 
 With Hymen's torch that late had led her home. 
 And Thou, too, Hymen, turned'st the nuptial 
 hymn 
 
 To elegiac strains of sorrow dim.
 
 48 
 
 LII. 
 
 M ELEAGER. 
 To Spring. 
 
 The howling Winter having left the sky. 
 
 Smiles the bright hour of flower-producing 
 Spring ; 
 The fresh-hued earth is crowned luxuriantly 
 
 With greenest grass, and flowers are clustering 
 With petals new, each branch surcharged with 
 juice. 
 
 The meadows drinking of the dews that drop 
 From womb of morn, making earthmore produce, 
 
 Smile as the Roses their sweet eyelids ope. 
 To shepherds piping shrilly on the hills 
 
 The season sweet all gloomy thoughts forbids; 
 The goat-herd too with raptured feeling thrills 
 
 Eyeing the skippings of his snow-white kids. 
 The mariners now plough the billows broad, 
 
 Their canvas bellying to the harmless gale 
 Of Zephyr, while the vineyard's jolly god 
 
 Ivy-crowned revellers with Evoes hail. 
 Their skilful beauteous works are now a care 
 
 To bees derived from oxen;* in their hives 
 They settle gladly and no labour spare : — 
 
 To elaborate honey each with other strives. 
 And all around the feathered shrill-note sings : 
 
 The halcyons by the wave; the swallows hail 
 From human dwellings ; from the river-springs 
 
 The swans ; and from the gi'ove the nightingale. 
 Now, when joy stirs the leafage of tlie plant ; 
 
 Earth blooms ; the shepherds pipe upon the 
 hills ; 
 
 *See Virgil, Georg. IV.
 
 4d 
 
 And thick-fleeced sheep with ceaseless gambols 
 pant ; 
 And sailors plough the mam ; and Bacchus 
 thrills 
 The dancer's heart; birds sing; industrious bees 
 Labour with sweets;— when Nature all is gay, 
 Why should the bard, reclining at his ease. 
 Not sing his sweetest song in blithesome May ? 
 
 :o: 
 
 LIII. 
 
 PAUL, THE SILENTIARY. 
 
 [Paul, the Silentiary, chief of the secre- 
 taries of the Emperor Justinian, wrote various 
 poems, of which some are still extant, and 83 
 epigrams, given in Vol. III. of Brunch's An- 
 thologia.] 
 
 Nor needs the rose a wreath, nor thou, fair maid, 
 
 A broidered vest, or head-dress gem-inlaid. 
 
 On thy white neck the pearl pales its light ; 
 
 Than purest gold thy flowing locks more bright. 
 
 Yields to thine eyes, so beautifully blue, 
 
 The Indian hyacinth's celestial hue. 
 
 Thy dewy lips, thy mind and manners' tone, 
 
 A honeyed harmony, are Venus' zone. 
 
 All these subdue; my comfort's from thine eyes, 
 
 Where honey-dropping hope for ever lies.
 
 50 _ 
 
 LIV. 
 
 MELEAGER. 
 
 Me the swift-footed, long-eared hare, while 
 
 young, 
 While very young, torn from my mother's breast. 
 Sweet Phanion reared — the fair-skinned Phanion. 
 And, fondled in her bosom, I was fed 
 On every flower that the Spring meads produce. 
 A mother's loss not moved me, but I died 
 Of endless dainties, fattened with much food. 
 And here she buried me beside her bowei', 
 That ever in her dreams she might behold 
 My tomb close-bordering on her gentle couch. 
 
 :o:- 
 
 Otlierwise. 
 
 Me, the swift-footed, long-eared hare, 
 
 Abstracted from a mother's care 
 
 While young, the sweet-skinned Phanion 
 
 Fondled her tender breast upon. 
 
 And she her sportive favourite fed 
 
 On flowers from Spring's awakened bed. 
 
 I pined not for a mother's kindness, 
 
 But Phanion, with fatal blindness, 
 
 Incessant delicates supplied, 
 
 So I grew fat, and soon I died. 
 
 And near her couch the sorrowing maid 
 
 The body of her leveret laid. 
 
 That in her dreams she still might see 
 
 The tomb she fondly raised o'er me.
 
 51 
 
 LV. 
 
 ARCHIAS. 
 
 [Aechias, a. Licinius, a Greek poet born at 
 Antioch, about 120 B.C. He is known chiefly 
 from Cicero's famoiis speech -[tro ArcMa, the 
 genuineness of which has, however, somewhat 
 unnecessarily been questioned by Schroeter. 
 He wrote many epigrams, but it is not settled 
 whether those ascrilied to him in the Anthology 
 are really his. They have no great merit. 
 According to Cicero and Quintilian he had a 
 remarkable gift of improvising verses, a gift 
 possessed to a surprising degree by our country- 
 man Theodore Hook.] 
 
 Lysipp6's infant playmg on the verge 
 Of a huge cliff o'erhanging ocean's surge, 
 Astyanax' sad fate would soon have shared. 
 Had not the mother, taught by instinct, bared 
 The streaming font his daily food that gave — 
 Rescuer at once from hunger and the grave. 
 
 :o: 
 
 LVI. 
 
 ARCHILOCHUS, 
 
 [Archilochxts (670 e.g.), a native of Paros, a 
 poet of the highest order, and classed by his 
 countrymen with Homer, Pindar, and Sophocles 
 as one of their representative bards. He was 
 the earliest of the Ionian lyrists, and the first
 
 52 
 
 Greek poet who composed Iambic verses accord- 
 inc^ to fixed rule. To him as well as to Callinus 
 was ascribed the invention of elegy. In elegiac 
 strains he sang of war and mourned for the 
 dead ; but iambic or satiric poetry was his forte, 
 and of this weapon he had such terrible mastery 
 that its edge drove to suicide the daughters of 
 Lycambes, of whom Neobule, who had been 
 promised to him in marriage, was ultimately 
 denied to him. In his Epodes Horace mani- 
 festly translates from him.] 
 
 Some Saian glories o'er my undinted shield, 
 Which, 'gainst my will I left beside the wood; 
 But since with life I've quit the bloody field, 
 Let that shield go— I'll buy one quite as good. 
 
 :o: 
 
 LVII. 
 
 SIMONIDES. 
 
 [SiMONiDES. — There were two famous poets so 
 named, Simonides of Amorgus (660 B.C.), a cele- 
 brated satirist in iambics. He also wrote gnomic 
 poetry in iambic measure, in which are embodied 
 sentiments and precepts bearing on life and 
 character, and intermixed with quiet irony. 
 But it is with Simonides of Ccos (490 v..c.) that 
 we have here to do, for to him are to be ascribed 
 the numerous elegiac and epigrammatic remains, 
 so higldy prized, that bear the name. He ex- 
 celled both as a lyrical and an elegiac poet. His
 
 53 
 
 lyrics, written in the Doric dialect, belong in 
 form to the Choral Dorian school, while he 
 framed his elegies in his native dialect, the 
 Ionic. In youth he was one of the brilliant 
 circle that graced the Court of Hipparchus ; in 
 advanced life he enjoyed the friendship of 
 Themistocles and Pausauias ; and he died at 
 Syracuse, whither he had gone to the Court of 
 Hieron. His remains consist of hymns to the 
 gods, paeans, odes of victory, and dirges. 
 Beautiful are his elegiac epitaphs on the patriots 
 that fell at Thermopylae and Salamis, and es- 
 pecially beautiful is his "Lament of Danae," 
 which forms the last version given in this book. 
 He was eminent for self-control ; hence the 
 moderation of his views of human life, and the 
 soundness of his moral sentiments. His poetry 
 is characterized by sweetness, finish, and abso- 
 lute mastery of expression.] 
 
 Nought stable to the sons of men remains : 
 The Chian man declared in noblest strains, 
 " As is the race of leaves so that of men" — 
 A truth our ear reveals unto our ken. 
 But seldom moves the heart ; for each is strong 
 In hope, innate in bosoms of the young. 
 And while a man has youth's desired flower 
 Light is his heart, and each revolving hour 
 Brings to his thoughts much that can never be. 
 For ne'er does it suggest itself that he 
 Shall yield to Eld, or drop into tlie tomb. 
 Nor, while in Health, that Sickness e'er will come. 
 Fools! who think thus, nor do they rightly know 
 How brief are time and life to men below. 
 But, learning this, do thou through Life's short 
 
 span 
 Let thy soul freely taste what bliss it can.
 
 54 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Loud thundering Jove in liis own hand retains 
 
 All issues, and his lot to each ordains. 
 
 Not on the feeble creatures of a day 
 
 Doth auglit depend that can our fortune sway. 
 
 From day to day we live and darkly grope 
 
 As God hath destined, fed by Heavenly Hope, 
 
 That sheds around us her illusive rays, 
 
 Still pointuag to impracticable ways. 
 
 The day that is defines the wish to some ; 
 
 Others look forward to long years to come. 
 
 But there is none who thinks not a new year 
 
 With wealth and bliss in plenty will appear. 
 
 Yet ere the boon arrives unenvied Eld 
 
 Steps in, and Hope's sweet visions are dispelled. 
 
 Blighting disease consumes the strength to 
 
 some : — 
 Some crushed by Mars sink to a bloody tomb. 
 Some tempest-tost on Ocean's purple breast 
 Beneath its billows find their destined rest ; 
 Others, aweary of the sun, suspend 
 The dangling noose, and find a bitter end. 
 Naught's without Evil : myriad-featured Fate, 
 And woes ineffable, all men await. 
 
 :o: 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Inscription on the Tomb of the Three Hundred, 
 
 Go, stranger, tell the Spartans here we lie, 
 Not fearing, as they bade us, all to die.
 
 55 
 
 LX. 
 
 ANTIPATP]R OF SIDON. 
 
 Not in soft robes at Sparta, as elsewhere, 
 Doth sculptured Venus in her shrine appear. 
 A helm and not a veil her head adorns ; 
 She wields a spear, the golden bough she scorns. 
 A Spartan dame, and wife of Thracian Mars, 
 Less meetly breathes of dalliance than of wars. 
 
 :o:- 
 
 LXI. 
 
 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 
 
 Prot6, thou art not dead, but gone before, 
 
 To fairer regions, and a happier shore ; 
 
 The Blessed Isles are now thy bright abode, 
 
 Where copious banquets are on all bestowed. 
 
 Full of delight, along Elysian plains, 
 
 'Midst softest flowers thou mov'st, remote from 
 
 pains. 
 Pains thee, nor winter's cold, nor summer's 
 
 glow ; 
 Disease, thirst, hunger, thou shalt never know. 
 This mortal life of fever and of fret 
 In thy calm breast can ne'er inspire regret ; 
 For blamelessly thou livest in the blaze 
 That glads Olympus with its purple rays.
 
 56 
 
 LXII. 
 
 CARPHYLLIDES. 
 
 [Cakphyllides, a Greek poet, the author of 
 two graceful epigrams in the Greek Anthology. 
 Sometimes we find a name Carpyllides, but 
 whether this represents a different person, or is 
 a mistaken spelling of the first name cannot be 
 ascertained. ] 
 
 Blame not my tomb, thou traveller passing by. 
 Though gone from earth nought to regret have I. 
 I've children's children left, and I grew old 
 With one dear wife in peace and joy untold. 
 Three daughters fair I gave to bridegrooms three. 
 Whose children oft have slept upon my knee. 
 Not one of all my race did death assail ; 
 No cheek through fell disease did once grow pale; 
 All poured libations on tlie patriarch's dust. 
 And sent him on to slumber with the just. 
 
 — :o:- 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 This dust was Timas'. Dying, but unwed, 
 She sleeps in sable Pi'oserpine's cold bed ; 
 Their tresses shorn with steel her compeers 
 
 throw 
 Upon her urn, to soothe the shade below.
 
 5T 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 ASCLEPIADES. 
 
 [AscLEPiADES. — More than 40 epigrams in the 
 Greek Anthology are under this name, but it is 
 more than probable that they are not all produc- 
 tions of the same poet. Some of them undoubtedly 
 belong to Asclepiades of Samos, mentioned as the 
 teacher of Theocritus, and the reputed author of 
 bucolic poetry. There was also an earlier 
 Asclepiades of Adramyttium. Asclepiades, a 
 lyric poet, from whom Asclepiadic verse, resemb- 
 ling the choriambic, takes its name, lived after 
 the time of Alcaeus and Sappho.] 
 
 Sweet to the thirsty in the Summer's heat 
 A draught of water cooled with purest snow ; 
 
 Spring garlands to the mariner are sweet. 
 When Winter hurricanes have ceased to blow: 
 
 But sweeter far when youthful lovers find 
 
 Some shady bower, and Venus not unkind. 
 
 :o: 
 
 LXV. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 Whate'er of life I yet retain 
 Take this, ye Loves, from me ; 
 
 For, by the Gods above, I fain 
 Henceforth at peace would be. 
 
 If blessed peace I may not know, 
 
 Discharge no tiny dart. 
 But let the lightning's fiery glow 
 
 Consume me to the heart. 
 
 Yes, strike, ye Loves, I'm not afraid 
 Even harder lines to bear ; 
 
 Grief in my heart hath havoc made. 
 And left me nought but care. 
 
 H
 
 58 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 MELEAGER. 
 
 Ye well-fraught barks that plough the Helles- 
 pont, 
 
 With the strong north-wind in your swelling 
 sails, 
 If, when ye pass the shining cliffs that front 
 
 The Coan strand, soft-sighing to the gales 
 Ye see my Phanion gazing o'er the deep. 
 
 Thus say for me :^"0 loved and lovely Maid, 
 My burning passion never is asleep ! 
 
 And, lest by fickle winds I be delayed, 
 I shun the waves, and come by land to thee." 
 
 If ye say this, then Jove with prosperous breeze 
 Will fill your canvas, and ye soon shall be 
 
 Safe at the ports ye seek, your crews at ease. 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Place not this corpse in earth; cast it away, 
 To vultures foul, and ravening dogs a prey. 
 Earth, Mother of us all, should never hide 
 Him by whose bloody hand his mother died.
 
 .■)0 
 
 L XVIII. 
 
 A N y T E. 
 
 [Anyte, of Tegea, the authoress of several 
 of the epigrams in the Greek Anthology, is 
 numbered among lyric poets by Meleager and 
 by Antipater of Thessalonica. Her epigrams 
 are for the most part in the style of the ancient 
 Doric Choral Songs, and therefore she may 
 belong to a remoter period than that usually as- 
 signed to her — viz., 300 B.C. In fact she has been 
 carried as far back as to about 723 B.C. ; but this 
 is perhaps too early a date to suit the style and 
 subject of her epigrams. See Smith's Dictionary 
 of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology 
 sub vnce Anyte.] 
 
 Oft at this tomb on her dear virgin child 
 Her mother Clino calls with wailings wild. 
 Philffinis, strange to Hymen, treads the shore 
 Of the green Acheron, to return no more. 
 
 -:o: 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 I mourn Antibia, her whose love to gain 
 Came many a wooer to her father's gate ; 
 
 But Beauty, Prudence — both alike were vain, 
 The hopes of all were crushed by ruthless Fate.
 
 60 
 
 LXX. 
 
 PAUL THE SILENTIARY. 
 
 Within a tomb, not in a bridal bower, 
 
 Thy virgin bed thy sorrowing parents strewed; 
 From all life's snares, and from the childbed hour 
 
 Thou now art safe within thy dark abode. 
 Those who are left feel sorrow's bitter cloud, 
 
 While Fate hath hid thee in her painless 
 breast — 
 Thee still a child, with Beauty's flower endowed, 
 
 And Age's staidness on thy soul imprest. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 MENECRATKS. 
 
 [Menecrates, of Smyrna, who was the author 
 of two epigrams in the Greek Anthology, was 
 probably the same person with Menecrates of 
 Ephesus, mentioned by Varro.] 
 
 Twice had a mother to funereal fires 
 Her offspring given, when a third expires ; 
 Reproaching sateless Death, the wretched dame 
 Gave her third darling to the ruthless flame. 
 When the fourth produce of her womb appeared 
 No hope possessed her, further woe she feared. 
 She waited not to see grim Death arrive. 
 But placed her infant in the flames alive ; 
 Saying : "No more my breasts shall feed in vain. 
 Mine aye the loss, and Pluto's still the gain. 
 A present sorrow, therefore, I prefer ; 
 What's over now no future grief can stir,"
 
 61 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 POSIDIPPUS. 
 
 [PosiDiPPUS, or PosEiDiPPUS, an epigrammatic 
 poet, was probably a contemporary of the comic 
 poet of the same name, who flourished about 
 289 B.C. His epigrams form part of the Garland 
 of Meleayer, who seems to have thought him a 
 Sicilian. In the Greek Anthology twenty-two 
 of his epigrams are preserved, but some of these 
 are ascribed to Asclepiades, and some to Calli- 
 machus. Athenaeus quotes from two poems by 
 a Posidippus which appear to have been epic, 
 and these Schweighauser ascribes to the epi- 
 grammatist.] 
 
 What path of life can proper pleasures yield ? 
 
 The senate and the bar are hot with strife ; 
 Cares worry us at home ; and in the field 
 
 Are wasting toils: the sea with storms is rife; 
 Wealth brings much fear to him abroad who fares, 
 
 And poverty, vexation without end. 
 Hast thou a wife ? not far to seek thy cares ! 
 
 Unwed, lone cheerless hours thy steps attend. 
 Children are plagues; to him with children none 
 
 Is a maimed life ; Youth is of wisdom shorn, 
 And Age of strengrth. We have but choices one 
 
 Of two — unborn or die as soon as born.
 
 62 
 
 LXXIII. 
 METRODORUS 
 
 [Metrodorus is the author of two epigrams 
 in the Greek Anthology It is very uncertain 
 when he flourished, and it is doubtful whether 
 both of these epigrams should be ascribed to the 
 same poet.] 
 
 On the. Contrary. 
 
 No path of life but hatli its pleasures meet. 
 
 The senate and the bar afford renown. 
 By the fireside are rest and quiet sweet ; 
 
 In the green fields a charm that shuns the town. 
 The sea yields ample treasure. Soothing Fame 
 
 Attends a man, if rich, in foreign lands ; 
 If poor, it comforts to conceal the same. 
 
 His home is sweet to him in wedlock's bands; 
 But easier far the careless bachelor's life. 
 
 Children are sweet around the family board ; 
 The childless man escapes great sturt and strife. 
 
 Youtli's limbs with vigour green are richly 
 stored ; 
 While piety encrowns the hoary head. 
 
 They greatly err who think we are confined 
 To choices one of two — unborn or dead. 
 
 To all in every state hath life been kind.
 
 6^ 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 SERAPION OF ALEXANDRIA. 
 
 [Serapiox of Alexandria, a sophist and 
 rhetorician: of the time of Hadrian. He was a 
 copious author, and among his works is classed 
 a short treatise on Astrology. There is one 
 epigram of his in the Greek Anthology.] 
 
 This is the skull of some one worn with toil, 
 Trader, or fisher, on the insensate wave. 
 Tell mortals, hopes on hopes their holders foil — 
 Their surest goal the inevitable grave. 
 
 :o:- 
 
 LXXV, 
 
 L U C I A N. 
 
 [LuciAN (160 A.D.), a native of Samosata, was 
 one of the wittiest and most voluminous of later 
 Greek writers, and wrote the best Attic prose 
 that had been MTitten for 400 years. In his 
 " Dialogues of the Gods " he turned the popular 
 Greek faith to ridicule, and his frequent attacks 
 on the Pagan Olympus helped much to under- 
 mine the authority of the gods of mythology. 
 He notices the then "strange philosophy" of 
 the Christians — their hope of immortality, their 
 holding of goods in common, and their doctrine 
 of the brotherhood of'man. He was a writer of 
 uncommon nimbleness and versatility, and holds 
 a reputable place in many departments of 
 liteiature. He knew human nature intimately, 
 especially on its worst side, and may be regarded
 
 u 
 
 as the Swift, or rather as the Voltaire, of the 
 ancients. He had strong common sense, and 
 racy humour, but was perhaps, like many of 
 the more daring, versatile, and showy of his 
 brethren of the critical guild, more specious 
 than profound.] 
 
 A doctor placed his son beneath my rule. 
 To learn to read like other boys at school. 
 And when he knew "Achilles' wrath," and those, 
 " To his own Greeks he caused ten thousand 
 
 woes," 
 And, " Many brave souls untimely did he send 
 To Hell," no longer did the youth attend. 
 I met the father: — "Thanks, my friend," quoth 
 
 he, 
 "My boy can leani those things at home from me; 
 For many brave souls untimely I dismiss — 
 No tutor do I need to teach him this." 
 
 :o: 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 PAUL THE SILENTIARY. 
 
 Far dearer, Philinna, thy wiinkles to me 
 Than the smoothest-faced maid howe'er young 
 
 she may be ; 
 And more welcome, though aged, art thou to 
 
 my arms 
 Than the full-bosomed damsel in life's mornmg 
 
 charms t 
 Thy Autumn is better than her freshest Spring, 
 And thy Winter more warmth than her Summer 
 
 doth bring.
 
 65 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 AGATHIAS, 
 
 Nicostratus, Aristotelian sage, 
 
 Equal to Plato, who enriched his page 
 
 With philosophic quibliles, cut and dry. 
 
 Was questioned thus by quidnunc passing by: — 
 
 * ' How say'st thou of the soul ? Come, tell me 
 
 plain, 
 Is't mortal, or immortal ? and again, 
 Is't body or is't spirit ? known by the mind 
 Or by the hand ? or is it both combined ?" 
 Our sage declined to answer at the time ; 
 But having read the works on the Sublime, 
 And on the Soul, by Aristotle writ. 
 And Plato's Phaedo, wherein lore and wit 
 Are shaped in lofty words and thought pro- 
 found. 
 Wrapping his cloak his learned sides around, 
 And stroking his full beard down to the tips. 
 Solved thus the problem with oracular lips : — 
 ' ' If the soul has a nature all its own, 
 —For that it has to me is quite unknown — 
 'Tis mortal or immortal, and must be 
 Or solid substance or from matter free. 
 But ferried once o'er Acheron's sad wave, 
 Knowledge as great as Plato's self you'll have. 
 If you're in haste ascend some structure high. 
 And like Cleombrotus leap down and die. 
 Then you will know the question you propound, 
 That what you seek reposes under ground."
 
 66 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 A man in a fix lately went to a lawyer, 
 
 Who in his profession was deemed a topsawyer 
 
 And stated his case thus :—" Good sir, you 
 
 must know 
 My female domestic ran oiT not long ago. 
 A fellow soon found her, who, though he well 
 
 knew 
 She belonged to a stranger, without any ado 
 Made her marry his man, and, as you may 
 
 suppose, 
 Soon round their hut hearthstone an offspring 
 
 arose. 
 Now, whose slaves are those children ? My 
 
 question is so." 
 Our lawyer commenced a professional show. 
 Tapped his brow, pondered deep, looked all his 
 
 books over, 
 A proper solution of the case to discover, 
 On his client then turned his arched eyebrows 
 
 and said, 
 "Those children you talk of as borne by your 
 
 maid 
 Are either your slaves or the kidnapper's base. 
 But a finding decisive you'll get on your case 
 By applying in court to a clear-headed judge, 
 If what you have told me just now be not 
 fudge."
 
 67 
 
 LXXIX. 
 ANTIPATER OF SIDON. 
 
 With a green-creeping vine I'm now o'er- 
 
 grown — 
 I, a dry plane — with leafage not mine own : — 
 I, wlao erewhile upon my branches wide 
 Nursed the rich clusters with complacent pride, 
 Myself as leafy as my nursling vine. 
 For such a mistress let each heart incline — 
 Kind not alone when Strength encrowns the 
 
 head, 
 But mindful of him still though with the Dead. 
 
 -:o: — 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 ASCLEPIADES. 
 
 Hang there, ye garlands, which my hands have 
 
 twined. 
 Over the porch's folding-doors inclined ; 
 Nor shed those leaves my weeping eyes be- 
 dewed — 
 For lovers' eyes are oft with tears embued — 
 And when ye see my true love at the door. 
 Upon his head your watery offering pour ; 
 So that his yellow hair may drink those tears 
 Wrung from mine eyes by Love's delicious 
 fears.
 
 68 
 
 LXXXI. 
 CLEOBULUS. 
 
 [Cleobulus was one of the Seven Sages, and 
 a citizen of Lindus, in Rhodes. He was a con- 
 temporary of Solon, and must have lived at least 
 as late as 560 B.C. Clement of Alexandria calls 
 him King of the Lindians, and Plutarch speaks 
 of him as a tyrant, but he may have held an 
 authority delegated to him by popular suffrage, 
 and Lindus may have been under democratic 
 government. He composed lyric poems and 
 riddles in verse. The inscription on the tomb 
 of Midas is ascribed to him by Diogenes 
 Laertius, while others asci'ibe its authorship to 
 Homer. He was distinguished for physical 
 strength and beauty, and lived to the age of 
 sixty. He was a sayer of good things, and 
 many of these are on record.] 
 
 Moulded of brass, a virgin pure, 
 
 O'er Midas' tomb I lie : 
 While rivers row, and tall woods grow, 
 
 And waters murmur by — 
 
 And while the sea surrounds the land. 
 
 And Summer suns are bright, 
 And the pale Moon ascends the sky 
 
 To beautify the Night : — 
 
 So long shall I, from this sad pile. 
 
 Besprent with many a tear, 
 Proclaim to travellers as they pass 
 
 That Midas slumbers here.
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 
 
 This radiant child, once the admired of all, 
 
 Thou hast. King Pluto, with a hand unholy, 
 Snatched under ground, wrapt in Death's sable 
 pall ; 
 
 Thou hast cut down — reflection melancholy ! 
 From its young root a richly-scented rose 
 
 In Spring's first bloom, ere it had reached its 
 prime. 
 Come, hapless parents, give your grief repose. 
 
 And dry your tears— trust the Consoler Time. 
 Her face had nameless charms, a roseate hue, 
 
 That will enrich the sky's immortal bowers ; 
 The Nymphs, not Death, took the sweet maid 
 from you, 
 
 To be their playmate in their happiest hours. 
 
 L X X X 1 1 1. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 Be silent now thou Dryad's shaggy scaur, 
 Streams from the I'ocks, and bleatings from afar: 
 Pan to the syrinx his moist lips applies, 
 And from the reeds draws all their melodies : 
 Nymphs of the Woods and Waters dance 
 
 around — 
 Their feet to frolic measures beat the ground.
 
 70 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 B I A N O R 
 
 [BiANOR, a Bithynian, the authoi' of 21 
 epigrams in the Greek Anthology, lived under 
 the Emperors Augustus and Tiberius. His epi- 
 grams were included by Pliilip of Thessalonica 
 in his collection.] 
 
 When to the citadel had come 
 
 Cleitonymus to slay 
 The tyrant, then a hostile band 
 
 It hurried him away, 
 To cast him to the fishes, 
 
 And to the cruel sea : 
 But Justice, righteous goddess, 
 
 Forbade this crime to be, 
 And buried liim herself, for then 
 
 The bank was torn away, 
 And covered him from head to foot, 
 
 So that untouched he lay 
 By the Water, and the Earth concealed 
 
 With reverence and pride, 
 The haven of her liberty, 
 
 On the spot where he had died.
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. 
 
 Unhappy son, unhappy me who gave 
 Thy youthful ashes to the silent grave ! 
 Thine a few years of beauty and of glee, 
 Mine, old and lone, to mourn incessantly. 
 Would that I were in Hades' di'ear domain, 
 For Morn or Eve can ne'er delight again ! 
 Oh, loved and lost, though dead console my grief: 
 Were I beside thee I should find relief ! 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 ANTIPATER OF SIDON. 
 
 No longer, Orpheus, shall thy magic song 
 Lead oaks, and rocks, and savage herds along ; 
 Lull warring winds, check hail-storms as of yore, 
 Melt snow-wreaths, and compose wild Ocean's 
 
 roar. 
 For thou art gone.— The Muses wept for thee, 
 And chief thy Mother, sad Calliope. 
 Why for our sons departed should we plain ? 
 To save their own the Gods contend in vain.
 
 72 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 LEONIDAS OF ALEXANDRIA. 
 
 [Leonidas of Alexandkia taught grammar 
 at Rome, where he ultimately obtained imperial 
 patronage. He probably flourished down to 
 the reign of Vespasian. In the Greek Anthology 
 43 epigrams are ascribed to him, but perhaps 
 some of these belong to Leonidas of Tarentum. 
 The epigrams of Leonidas of Alexandria are of 
 inferior merit, and characterised by petty con- 
 ceits, which could have been projected an<l 
 executed only by a vain and empty trifler.] 
 
 On a wild winter's night while hail and snow 
 And frost were rampant, and North winds did 
 
 l:)low, 
 A lonely lion, with the cold half-dead. 
 Entered a goat-herd's solitary shed. 
 The inmates, terror-struck, their flocks forgot, 
 And for themselves Preserving Jove besought. 
 The Desert's Lord found shelter through the 
 
 night : 
 The storm abated with the morning light. 
 Then he arose and sought the wilds once more, 
 Nor injured man, nor kid, nor household store. 
 This painting on this oak, strong-rooted here, 
 The herdsmen hung to Jove the Mountaineer.
 
 73 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 AGATHI AS. 
 
 I love not wine, but should'st thou wish 
 
 To see thy lover mellow, 
 Imprint a kiss upon the cup, 
 
 And I'll be Bacchus' fellow. 
 
 Should'st thou but touch it with thy lips 
 
 Could I be an abstainer ? 
 The sweet cup-bearer would o'erpower ; 
 
 Than that there's nothing plainer. 
 
 The cup would be thy messenger, 
 
 A kiss to me conveying, 
 And whispering of the incense sweet 
 
 That round thy lips is playing. 
 
 :o:- 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. 
 
 This little stone is a memorial sweet 
 
 Of the great love my heart did bear to thee. 
 
 I pray thee, though in Hades, if 'tis meet. 
 Drink not of Leth6, but remember me.
 
 xc. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 Me, the shower-loving frog, the minstrel moist, 
 Pleased with clear springs, and servant of the 
 
 Nymphs, 
 Hath a wayfaring man here shaped in brass, 
 And reared a consecrated gift, because 
 I slaked his feverish thirst, induced by heat. 
 For by my timely singing, as he roamed, 
 My voice amphibious drew him to this grot ; 
 And, not unmindful of my guiding strain. 
 He found the needed draught in waters cool. 
 
 Otherwise. 
 
 Me, the Nymphs' thrall, the Frog that loves 
 the rains, 
 The Minstrel moist, rejoicing in clear springs, 
 A certain wayfarer, with gi-ateful pains 
 
 Having shaped in brass, a votive offering 
 brings. 
 Because I slaked his heat-inflamed thirst. 
 
 For as he wandered, seeking waters cool, 
 My voice amphibious on his glad ear burst. 
 As I croaked timely from my frigid pool. 
 And he, not heedless of my guiding song, 
 Quaffed the cool wave for which his soul did 
 long.
 
 75 
 
 XCI 
 
 L U C I A N. 
 
 You dye your head, transmute grey hairs to 
 black, 
 But there's no dye will turn your age to youth, 
 Wrinkles efface, and bring the smooth cheek 
 back. 
 Why then bedaub your face with paint ? 
 Forsooth 
 A mask and not a face you then display. 
 
 'Tis all in vain — 'tis moonstruck madness 
 quite — 
 Not all the paints or washes of the day 
 Could turn foul Hecuba to Helen bright. 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 Otkerwise. 
 
 You well may dye your head, but not your years, 
 Nor yet erase the wrinkles from your face. 
 
 Daub not your cheeks with paint, for then 
 appears 
 A mask, no countenance with youthful grace. 
 
 'Tis moonstruck madness all, no paint or dye 
 
 Can give old Hecuba young Helen's eye.
 
 76 
 
 XCII. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Not Smyrna's plain the godlike Homer bore, 
 
 Nor Colophon, on soft Ionia's shore ; 
 
 Chios, nor Egypt with its teeming Nile, 
 
 Nor holy Cyprus, nor Ulysses' isle ; 
 
 Nor Argos, Danaus' land, nor Cyclops-walled 
 
 Mycen6, nor Cecropian Athens old ; 
 
 Eor Earth had nothing in the Bard divine. 
 
 From Heaven itself, and from their holiest 
 
 shrine, 
 The Muses sent him forth that he might pour 
 Their choicest gifts on creatures of an hour. 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 PALLADAS. 
 
 Tears did I shed at birth, and tears 
 
 Before in death I slept ; 
 And during all life's changeful years 
 
 How often have I wept ! 
 race of man, to many tears 
 
 For ever art thou doomed ; 
 Weak, wretched, and the sport of fears, - 
 
 Eartli, and by Earth resumed !
 
 XCIV. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 How fleeting are the joys of life ! 
 
 This fieetness let us mourn. 
 Sit, or recline we, still is strife 
 
 'Twixt pain and pleasure boi'n. 
 Time runs apace, and as it runs 
 
 Against unhappy men. 
 To each it blurs the glowing Suns, 
 
 And brings us Night again. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 An unsafe voyage Life : 'tis oft a storm 
 
 More to be dreaded than wild-yawning seas : 
 Fortune the pilot, and to it conform 
 
 The voyage, doubtful, with uncertain ease. 
 Some plough Life's Main with proudly-swelling 
 sail, 
 
 While others founder or are dashed on shore ; 
 Yet whether rough or prosperous the gale. 
 
 All reach one j)ort whence they return no 
 more.
 
 78 
 
 XCVI. 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 While with her pliant feet a spider wove 
 
 Her slender web, within its crooked toils 
 
 She caught a grasshopper: the song-loving child 
 
 Lamenting in his tiny chains I saw, 
 
 Nor passed unheeded ; but I set him free, 
 
 Loosing him from the meshes, and thus said, 
 
 " Be saved thou minstrel of melodious voice." 
 
 :o:- 
 
 Otherwisc. 
 
 While with her nimble feet a spider weaves, 
 Her web a wretched grassliopper receives. 
 I saw the songster grieving in his chains, 
 And quickly freed him from his irksome pains — 
 Saying - " Be saved that thou may'st sweetly 
 
 sound, 
 With tiny voice, to wood and vale around." 
 
 XCVIL 
 PALLADAS. 
 
 Each wife's a plague -yet twice she gives 
 
 delight ; 
 First, when she's wed ; next, when she leaves 
 
 the Lif'ht.
 
 79 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 ANTIPATER OF THESSALONICA. 
 
 [Antipater of Thessalonica wrote several 
 epigrams in the Greek Anthology. He lived in 
 the latter part of the reign of Augustus, and 
 perhaps on till the reign of Caligula, from 10 
 B.C. till 38 A.D. This we infer from hints in 
 some of his epigrams. It has been supposed 
 that he may be the same with the poet named 
 "Antipater Macedo " in the titles of several 
 epigrams.] 
 
 Demetrius, the mother who thee bore, 
 
 For that thou showed'st a craven soul, thee 
 slew. 
 Bathing a falchion in thy caitiff gore. 
 
 As she the weapon from thy flank withdrew, 
 Dyed with the blood of a once darling child, 
 Champing her teeth, her lips o'erspread with 
 foam, 
 And Fury in her stern eyes rolling wild. 
 This word she spake, fitting her Spartan 
 home : — 
 "Hence from Eurotas ; Hell's thy proper 
 place ; — 
 No longer mine,— Sparta's and my disgrace."
 
 80 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 CRINAGORAS. 
 
 [Crinagoras, a Greek epigrammatic poet, 
 author of about 50 of the epigrams in the 
 Anthology. He was a native of Mitylene, and 
 a contemporary of Stiabo. Jacobs from several 
 allusions in his epigrams refers him to the reign 
 of Augustus, and as having probably flourished 
 between 31 B.C. and 9 a.d. He lived at Rome, 
 and he states that the Muses had been kinder 
 to him than Fortune. He often evinces a spirit 
 of pure poetry.] 
 
 As other isles have changed a noteless name 
 
 To that of some one on the roll of fame, 
 
 So be ye henceforth called the "Isles of 
 
 Love," 
 Nor fear this change a Nemesis will move. 
 P^or the fair boy, here quietly entombed 
 Beneath thy hallowed turf, but lately bloomed 
 Both in the name and in the form of Love. 
 O Earth, that sec'st his tomb, we pray thee 
 
 prove 
 But a light burden on his gentle breast. 
 And thou, near Ocean, from thy murmurs rest
 
 81 
 
 SIMONIDES. 
 
 Not from the time when Ocean w'ith its tide 
 Cleft Europe from her sister Asia's side ; 
 Not from the time when the impetuous Mars 
 Directed mortals in their pristine wars, 
 Was ever deed of more heroic strain 
 Performed by men on land or on the Main. 
 On land these made the Medes in myriads fall, 
 Then took a hundred Tyrian ships with all 
 Their fighting men— Swart Asia did groan 
 When in both arms she found herself o'erthiowii. 
 
 -:o:- 
 
 CI. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Why do ye thus with shameless hunting drag, 
 Ye shepherds, from the dewy branches Me, 
 The Grasshopper that loves tire solitude — 
 The Nymphs' sweet wayside minstrel, at hot 
 
 noon 
 Shrill-singing to the hills and shady woods, 
 When there's the thrush, and blackbird, and 
 
 the flocks 
 Of starlings, robbers of the earth's increase ? 
 'Tis right to seize fniit-wasters, them destroy — 
 Why envy me fresh leaves and grassy dew ? 
 
 K
 
 82 
 
 CII. 
 
 ARCHILOCHUS. 
 
 Freighted with groans are sorrows for the dead; 
 ^Yhoe'er remembers them, from him hath fled 
 Delight in feasting and joy-giving wine. 
 Those whom I mourn hath ocean's yeasty brine 
 Whelmed in its woml), and my full breast is sore. 
 But for the ills for which ah ! nevermore 
 There is a cui-e, the Gods enjoin resolve 
 And resolute endui-ance : evils move 
 From one to other — now the turn is ours, 
 And we are crushed by Fate's relentless powers. 
 
 Anon they seize on others ; but endure 
 
 Woman-like grief for evil is no cure. 
 
 Had my dear brother not been lost at sea 
 Less grievous would that loss have been to me ; 
 Had but his limbs been stretched upon the pyre 
 And clad in vestments of the cleansing fire ! 
 
 Tears cannot prove a medicine to my woe ; 
 Not worse my fate if sadness I forego. 
 Therefore my wailings I shall not prolong, 
 But crown my hours with revelry and song.
 
 83 
 
 cm. 
 
 M E L E A G E R. 
 
 The Sale of Love. 
 
 Sell him though sleeping on his mother's breast. 
 Sell the bold boy, he's nothing but a pest. 
 How sly his leer ! wings from his back he 
 
 spreads, 
 His nails sci'atch deep, he laughs while tears he 
 
 sheds. 
 A most persistent imp — must have his will — 
 Keen-eyed and wild, his tongue doth chatter 
 
 still. 
 
 A prodigy complete — nought can ashame him. 
 Even his very mother cannot tame him. 
 Therefore he shall be sold — Trader! come hither; 
 O'er the rough seas convey him anywhither. 
 — What ails the boy ? He pleads, all bathed in 
 
 tears. 
 — Board with my time love, and dispel your 
 
 fears.
 
 84 I 
 
 I 
 
 CIV. 
 
 AUTHOR UNCERTAIN. 
 
 Grim fate hath reft of life a blooming boy, 
 
 Upon whose lips no down had yet appeared. 
 And thou, Deity of evil eye, 
 
 Hast from him hopes, how great ! untimely 
 sheared 
 With knife unholy — him of cunning hand, 
 
 And many works. Lie lightly on him. 
 Earth, 
 And make sweet-scented bright-hued flowers 
 expand 
 
 Beside him where he lies, such as have 
 biith 
 In blessed Araby, and on India's shore. 
 
 So that the odours thence distilled may tell 
 That here a youth reposes whom no more 
 
 We may lament, but that, beloved well 
 By the great Gods, libation and incense 
 
 He merits rather ; cruel fate him stole 
 When aged twenty years ; he hath gone hence 
 
 To pious mansions, for his self-control.
 
 85 
 
 CV, 
 
 SIM ON IDES 
 
 Dande. 
 
 [This has ahvcays been a favourite passage 
 with translators of CTreek minor poetry. It was 
 prophesied of Daniie, the daughter of Acrisius, 
 King of Argos, that she should give birth to a 
 son, who was to slay his grandfather. Hence 
 Acrisius shut up his daughter in a brazen tower. 
 But Jupiter, that erratic and erotic God, trans- 
 forming himself into a shower of gold, in other 
 words having bribed the guards, broke through 
 the roof, and Daniie became pregnant. In due 
 time she bore a son, Perseus. Her father, 
 having discovered this, thi'ew both mother and 
 son into a chest and put them out to sea. It 
 was while thus situated that she uttered the 
 following soliloquy, and breathed the followmg 
 prayer. Jupiter heard her, and caused the 
 chest to land on one of the Cyclades, where 
 Perseus grew up to manhood. While engaged 
 in throwing the discus or quoit, his grandfather 
 looking on, the wind rose suddenly and carried 
 the discus against the head of Acrisius, who 
 was killed, and the prophecy was thus accom- 
 plished. ] 
 
 When wild winds from the darksome sky 
 The well- wrought ark assailed. 
 
 And the rough waves ran mountains high, 
 With fear poor Daniie quailed.
 
 86 
 
 With cheeks besprent with many a tear, 
 Her arms she threw around 
 
 Her Perseus, crying, ' ' Infant dear, 
 I'm cnished by woes profound : 
 
 But thou within thy brass-bound ark. 
 Begirt with darkness deep — 
 
 From moon or star no friendly spark — 
 Hast found a suckling's sleep. 
 
 The broken wave that rushes by, 
 Nor wets thy clustering hair. 
 
 The tempest howling from the sky, ■ 
 Excites nor fear nor care. 
 
 For thee, within thy purple robe. 
 Thy face with beauty bright — 
 
 If thou thy mother's grief could'st probe. 
 Or read her heart aright — 
 
 The kindest wish that I could form 
 Were " Sleep my lovely child," 
 
 Sleep too thou sea, and sleep thou storm 
 Of misery raging wild. 
 
 I pray thee, Jove, to interpose, 
 
 O, listen to my cry ! 
 Let this my child avenge my woes 
 
 With judgments from on high.
 
 87 
 
 CVI. 
 
 ANTIPATER OF SIDON. 
 
 The old Maronis here doth lie, 
 And on her tomb you may espy 
 A goblet sculptured out of stone. 
 But she, the tippling, babbling crone. 
 For her poor children makes no moan. 
 Nor for their beggared father grieves. 
 Whom she without compunction leaves. 
 Yet in the grave it gives her pain. 
 That this fair goblet should remain 
 An ornamental chattel here. 
 Holding no drop of virine or beer.
 
 91 
 
 Tliese translations from the Greek Anthology 
 will have a fitting sequel in the following ver- 
 sion, however imperfect, of Schiller's famous 
 poem 
 
 THE GODS OP GREECE 
 
 O'er a beauteous world ye then presided ; 
 
 In sweet pleasure's gentle leading-band 
 Happy mortals still to joy ye guided — 
 
 Beauteous Beings from the Fable-land ! 
 Marred your blissful service nought of sadness ; 
 
 Ah, different altogether then I ween, 
 When bright-hued flowers inwreathed thy 
 shrines of gladness, 
 
 O Amathusian Queen ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Then the robes of Poesy enchanting 
 
 Sacred Truth majestic sweetly wore ; 
 Fulness of life throughout creation panting. 
 
 Gave emotions which are felt no more. 
 Man heightened the nobility of Nature 
 
 To clasp her fondly to his loving breast. 
 And the initiate eye, in every feature, 
 
 Saw Godhead manifest.
 
 III. 
 
 Where only, as our sages have decided, 
 
 Rolls now a soulless ball of fiery sheen, 
 In that young day his golden chariot guided 
 
 Helios in majesty serene ; 
 Lived in yonder forest-tree a Dryad, 
 
 O'er these hills did trooping Oreads roam ; 
 And, sparkling from the urn of the fair Naiad, 
 
 Sprang the river's silver foam. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yonder laurel once for aid was crying, 
 
 Niobe is silent in this stone ; 
 Issued from these sedges Syrinx' sighing ; 
 
 And from this grove sad Philomela's moan ; 
 Dropped Demeter's tears in yonder fountain, 
 
 While she roamed her daughter to regain ; 
 Mourned, too, Cytherea on this mountain 
 
 Her beauteous hunter boy in vain.
 
 9:^ 
 
 The love of old Deucalion's sons full often 
 
 Drew down from heaven the Celestials Fair 
 Pyrrha's lovely daughters' hearts to soften 
 
 Latona's son the shepherd's crook did bear. 
 Between men divinities and heroes, 
 
 Love a gently-powerful bond did twine ; 
 Mortals, with divinities and heroes, 
 
 Homage paid at Venus' shrine. 
 
 vr. 
 
 Joyous life-work, pleasure unabated, 
 
 Banished care, and self-denial sad ; 
 To the Happy ye were all related, 
 
 Therefore each lightly-bounding heart was 
 glad. 
 Nought save the Beautiful was then revered ; 
 
 Deity was ne'er ashamed of joy, 
 Where the blushing Muses chaste appeared. 
 
 And the sister Graces coy.
 
 94 
 
 VII. 
 
 All palace-like were your gay temples gleaming, 
 
 The glory yours of the heroic game 
 In the Isthmian contests honour-teeming, 
 
 As to the goal the chariots thundering came. 
 Beauteous mazes, soul-like dances twining, 
 
 Circled round your joyous altars fair ; 
 Round your brows were Victory's garlands 
 shining, 
 
 Wreathes round your odorous hair. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 p]voes of the nimble Thyrsus-swinger, 
 
 And the gorgeous team of panthers mild, 
 Heralded great Bacchus the Joy-bringer ; 
 
 Before him Fauns and Satyrs revelled wild ! 
 Round him circled Maenades uproarious. 
 
 Praised their dances his heart-cheering wine ; 
 And the Patron's purpled vision glorious. 
 
 Welcomed them to draughts divine.
 
 i)o 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then no grizly skeleton iipstarted, 
 
 vStanding grimly by the bed of death ; 
 But the Genius his torch inverted * 
 
 As a Kiss bore oft' the parting breath. 
 In Orcus' shadowy realm a judge presiding, 
 
 Of mortal strain, the judgment-balance held, 
 And the Thracian's most melodious chiding 
 
 Gently the ruthless Furies quelled. 
 
 Former joys the happy shades recovered 
 
 In Elysium's bliss-bowers never sere ; 
 Love found unaltered whom the grave had 
 severed, 
 
 And a nobler course the charioteei'. 
 On Alcestes' bosom sank Admetus ; 
 
 Linus' harp poured forth the wonted strain ; 
 Recognised his arrows Philoctetes ; 
 
 Orestes knew his friend airain.
 
 96 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then nerved the struggling hero meeds more 
 glorious 
 
 As he trod in virtue's path sublime ; 
 Mighty toilers combating victorious 
 
 Mounted boldly to the starry clime. 
 Before the Stormer of the Realm Benighted 
 
 Bowed dovra the quiet fellowship of gods ; 
 From Olympus Leda's Twin-star lighted 
 
 Sailors o'er the boiling floods. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Bright world, thou'rt gone! oh had such Bright 
 been stable ! 
 
 Nature's soft bloom ^^ c ne'er shall see again ; 
 Only in the Fairyland of Fable 
 
 Live the traces of thy festive reign. 
 Heaven-deserted languisheth the meadow, 
 
 Brighten's Godhead nowhere on my gaze ; 
 Of those lifc-^^•arm figures but the shadow 
 
 Hath remained to later days.
 
 !I7 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Rigours of the gloomy North have banished 
 
 All those blossoms, faded now and gone ; 
 And a universe of gods has vanished 
 
 With the spoils of All enriching One. 
 Scan I the staiTy-arch with sad emotion, 
 
 Thee, Selene, find I there no more ; 
 Through the forests call I, through the ocean - 
 
 Echo lone from wood and shore ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Reckless of the joys she doth inherit, 
 
 By her native grandeur ne'er imprest ; 
 All unconscious of her guiding spirit. 
 
 Never through my blessedness more blest, - 
 Nature, senseless as the clock's rotation, 
 
 To her great Creator's glory dead, 
 Has become the slave of Gravitation 
 
 Since her ancient gods have fled.
 
 98 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ere To-morrow can her lii;ht rekindle, 
 
 With her own hands she digs her grave 
 to-day ; 
 And ever on and off the drowsy spindle 
 
 Moons of themselves Mind fulness and decay. 
 Home the gods to poet's Cloud-land going, 
 
 Left a world where beauty had decayed, 
 And, their gentle leading-strings out-growing, 
 
 Dull mechanic law obeyed. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Yes, the Beautiful have all departed. 
 
 Home the Great ones too have passed away ; 
 All the hues and tones that life imparted. 
 
 Leaving nothing but the soulless clay. 
 Rescued from the Time-flood, they are lifted 
 
 To the radiant top of I'indus high ; 
 Immortality ne'er crowns tlie gifted 
 
 \Vith song-garlands till they die. 
 
 [Finis.] 
 
 1 
 - I 
 
 DnsLOP & Drennan, Prixtkrs, Kilmarnock.
 
 KRRATUM. 
 
 I'age 11, line lo, for Aleuidie, read Aleiiadie.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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