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.

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.

!

|