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Were all in vain. Love's unresisted sway
Extends to all, and we must Love obey.'

'Tis done; ye Nine, here ends your poet's strain,
In pity sung to soothe his Gallus' pain.
While leaning on a flowery bank I twine
The flexile osiers, and the basket join.
Celestial Nine, your sacred influence bring,
And soothe my Gallus' sorrows while I sing:
Gallus, my much beloved! for whom I feel
The flame of purest friendship rising still :
So by a brook the verdant alders rise,
When fostering zephyrs fan the vernal skies.

Let us be gone; at eve, the shade annoys With noxious damps, and hurts the singer's voice ; The juniper breathes bitter vapours round, That kill the springing corn, and blast the ground. Homeward, my sated goats, now let us hie; Lo beamy Hesper gilds the western sky.

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HOURS OF IDLENESS.

BY

LORD BYRON.

Μήτ' άρ με μάλ' αίνεε μήτε τι νείκει.

HOMER, Iliad, x. 249. He whistled as he went for want of thought.

DRYDEN.

!

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