Furtum Apollinis.

VANTVM est aquarum--fons, fluvius, fretum,

In orbe toto,-cum iubari tno
Hoc omne caelesti vapores
Assiduos alimenta subdat,

Cur, quaeso, Olympi de mediis plagis
Lapsus fefellisti ac mihi non bene
Furatus atramenta, Apollo,

Ah! nimium cupidus bibendi ?

Tenves in auras fit nebula ocius
Subductus humor; per varii poli

Nunc rara nunc per densa quot sunt
Flatibus huc natat actus illuc.

Ros ille, iunctis mille aliis, erit Aestivus imber; deinde coloribus (Squalore mutato priori)

Iridis in mediis nitebit.

Ter, gutta, felix nec sine nomine
Cui tam beatae contigerint vices !
Tu sola vivax in meas haud

Fluxeris interitura chartas.

Caelestibus quod si sedet arcubus
Miscere, at adsis, Phoebe, ita subveni
Scribenti, ut in terris liquoris

Quod reliquum pariter nitescat.

J. B.

ΠΩΣ ΟΥ ΧΡΗ ΚΑΙ ΑΟΙΔΟΝ ΕΝ ΕΙΑΡΙ ΚΑΛΟΝ ΑΕΙΣΑΙ.

WIND, O wind of the Spring! thine old enchantment renewing,

Strike from my soul, like a lyre, billowy music to birth— Like as a harp's strings clash when struck with the sword of the spoiler

So, at the shock of thy might, wakens a cry within me.

Out of what wonderful lands, never trodden by man, never heard of,—

Burning with quenchless desire, fierce with a madness divine,―

Comest thou, breathing like flame till the whole earth flames into blossom,

Quickening the sap of old woods, swayed in thy stormy embrace,

Rousing, in depths of the heart the wild waves of an infinite longing,

Fervent for freedom and life, yearning for springs that are

dead!

Surely the far blue sea, foam-flecked with the speed of thy coming,

Brighten'd in laughter abroad, sang at the feet of the isles, Stirr'd in a tumult of joy, as my soul stirs, trembling with passion,

Trembling with passion and hope, wild with the spirit of Spring.

Something remains upon earth to be done, to be dared, to be sought for;

Up with the anchor once more! Out with the sails to the

wind!

Out to the shock of the seas, that encircle the Fortunate

Islands,

Vision of souls that are free, home of the wind of the Spring. T. W. H. R.

ΟΨΙΣ ΕΝΥΠΝΙΩΝ.

SAW thee laid in the house

Of desolate death, my sweet,

With beauty upon thy brows,

And a fold around thy feet,

And flowers on the breast that once with the flame of thy

passion beat.

And

my

heart was faint with the fire

Of inexpressible grief,

That the time of thy dainty desire

Should be as the life of the leaf,

As the ruin of purple bloom that shines in a golden sheaf.

For thy lips, love, were cold and grey,

As the weary lips of the dead,

And thy truant tresses lay

On white arms, heavy as lead,

And the gods cast over my soul the garment of infinite dread.

Sonnet.

J. J.

HEN grey-eyed Dawn, in veil of misty hue,
Opes wide the orient portals for the Sun,
Whose rays first fringe the pearl-tint clouds with one
Slight silver thread, then flood the arching blue

With liquid beams of molten gold, anew

Ushering in life's day, of men there's none

So sorry as I am that night is done,

For Night's long watch is fill'd with thoughts of you.

Her blackest darkness is no dark to me

But light, shed out from love's unwav'ring flame;
Day rolls to his decline, I try to frame

One thought not wholly thine; it cannot be,
And Vesper hears me whisper-breathe thy name
In accents brimming o'er with love for thee.

W. B.

270

CORRIGENDUM.

Sonnet "WAsted Days,” p. 56, line 12, for rays read glow.

The Schoolmaster.

HERE, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule
The village master taught his little school,
A man severe was he, and stern to view;
I knew him well, and every truant knew ;
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he.
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd;
Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault.
The village all declared how much he knew;
'Twas certain he could write and cypher too;
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage;
And e'en the story ran that he could gauge.
In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill,
For, e'en though vanquish'd, he could argue still;
While words of learned length and thundering sound
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame; the very spot
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot.

GOLDSMITH.

Orbilius.

IC, magno in strepitu ferula dare iura peritus Ad studia Orbilius pubem exercebat agrestem. Moribus ille fuit duris, torvoque timendus Aspectu. Quem nos sontes quam sensimus, eheu Plagosum? Vt turba infelix, praesagia frontis Matutina notans, mala mox ventura tremebat! Sparsisset si forte sales (qui mos fuit illi), Quae monstrabantur simulato gaudia vultu ! Irato frons est obducta? Huc nuncius illuc Divisus, cui non furtivus in aure susurrus Stridebat? Bonus ille tamen. Crudelior aequo Si fuerit visus, culpam tu hanc confer in illum Qui raptavit amor musae. Rauca usque crepabat Quam rerum ille foret gnarus vicinia; quemnam Aut numeros callere aut scribendi magis artem? Definire agros, praedicere tempora et aestus, Haec melius quem scire ? scire? Ea fama ferebat eundem Metiri vel posse cados laticesque repostos. Quicum (quum ne victa quidem deponeret arma) Quantumvis doctus verbis certare quis unquam Audeat, eloquio dum foeta et dicta tonantem Grandia doctrina pubes stupet omnis agrestis Circumstans, magis hoc magis emirata, cerebro Vno illo tantum doctrinae pondus inesse ? Sed fortuna fuit! Toties quo vicerat ille Aetas en! damnosa locum delevit et ipsum!

J. B.