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KOTIA BOS.

EDITED BT

ROBERT YELVERTON TYRRELL,

FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN

THIRD VOLUME.

Πολύς δε κοττάβων αραγμός
αχεί μέλος εν δόμοισιν.

Eur. Pleisth.

DUBLIN:
WILLIAM MCGEE, 18 NASSAU STREET.

LONDON : SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & co.

OXFORD: SLATTER & ROSE.

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23. JEC. 1916 OXFORD

CORRIGENDA IN VOL. III.

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Page 28, line 9, omit comma after tali.
56, 12, for rays ........

read glow.
95, 24, omit et in beginning of line.
95, 26, after ligula

insert vae.
20, for μάλ'

read μάλα.
19,
δ'

δε.
8, ενέδρευσ'

ενήδρευσ'. 13, enclose

unclose. και I91, 8,

ακινήτου, I, seek

seeks. » 247, 16, αφύσσου....

αφύσσων. » 303,

23
φορημιάτων

φορημάτων, » 307, 8, πλάθειν

μoλείν. » 323, 21, συριγώσης

σφριγώσης.

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Actaeon.

(SIC ILLUM FATA FEREBANT.*)

T was on the mount Cithaeron, in the pale and misty morn,

That the hero, young Actaeon, sounded the hunter's hörn. Princeliest of pursuers of the flying roe was he, Son of great Aristaeus and Theban Autonoë. Oaklike in massy stature, and carriage of kingly limb, Lo the broad, brave grace, and the fleet, fine might of manhood's

, fair prime in him, Grandly brow'd as a sea-cliff with the curling waves at its base, And its storm-haunted crest a tangle of deep, ripe weeds and

grass. And many an Arcadian maiden thought not of a maiden's pride, But look’d on the youth with longing, and watch'd as he went,

and sigh’d. And Aegle had proffer'd a jewel that a queen might carefully

keep, For a favouring smile of the hunter, and a touch of his beardless

lip;

But never on dame or damsel had his falcon glance made stay, And he turn’d from the love-sick Aegle, and toss'd her gifts away.

For where was so soft a bower, or where so goodly a hall, As the dell where the echoes listen'd to the noise of the waterfall? And where was there cheek of woman as lovely to soul and sense As the gracious hues of the woodlands in depths of the stately

glens ? And where were there

eyes or tresses as gloriously dark or bright, As the flood of the wild Alpheus as it pour'd from the lonely height?

* Ovid, Metamorphoses, III., 176.

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