THE CALM OF EVENING.

5

Burst out the lightning flame.
The chiefs breathed free, and at the sign
Trusted in the

power

divine.
Hinting sweet hopes, the seer cried,
Forth with their oars to ply ;
And swift went backward from rough hands
The rowing ceaselessly.

H. F. Cary.

ON THE TOMB OF A SHIPWRECKED

MARINER.

From Posidippus.

ous wave

AH, why, my brother mariner, so near the boisterOf ocean have ye hollowed out my solitary grave ? 'Twere better much that far from hence a sailor's tomb

should be, For I dread my rude destroyer, I dread the roaring sea. But may the smiles of fortune, may love and peace

await All

ye that shed a tear for poor Nicetas' hapless fate !

THE CALM OF EVENING.

From Ennius.

TH
'HE heaven's vast world stood silent; Neptune

gave
A hushful pause to ocean's roughening wave ;
The sun curbed his swift steeds ; the eternal floods
Stood still; and not a breath was on the woods.

WILLIAM PETER.

DANAË.

From Simonides. In the metre of the original.

BY the billows and blast driven and tost in the gloom

Of the tempest-night, cowering in terror Sat she, and clasped to her arms little Perseus, And wept sore, many a moan uttering, In anguish of heart: O my darling child, Misery crushes me; but in soft slumber reposing Carest thou not, fearest thou nought, innocent one ! Here, in the cold, rayless, desolate gloom, Warm is thy rest, fair is thy couch, royal its hue

beautiful face! Couldst thou but know what is thy dreadful doom, Hadst thou an ear ready to listen To these my words Nay, thou shalt sleep, — baby

shall sleep! Fall asleep, thou mighty ocean ! sleep, O my misery ! In vain they weave their wicked plans, O Father ! Wilt thou not — Zeus, I beseech ! — destroy all they

have willed ? For the child I pray ; fearless, I claim vengeance !

D. F. L.

DANAË.

From Simonides.

THE "HERE was once a carven ark adrift on a stormy

sea ; And the wind in each crevice shrieked, and Danaë

cowering there,

BY THE SEA.

7

With the spray on her cheeks and screening her Per

seus motherly, Crooned him a song like this in the midst of her de

spair: “O baby, mother is full of heavy care; but thou Hast sucked thyself asleep and liest without a dream, In the dismal brass-bound house, where on thy quiet

brow Strikes through the murky gloom the night-lamp's fitful

gleam. And the wind pipes loud and shrill, and the wave goes

o'er thy head; But thou dost not heed it, sweet, - thy clustering curls

are dry, Beautiful little face all swathed in its mantle red ! Ah, if thou didst but know my harrowing misery ! Heardest a tithe of my complaints ! — hush, dear; And hush, thou noisy sea ! and sleep, my sorrow wild ! And baffle their counsel, father Zeus, who left us here ! Nay, I am bold to say, be just to the blameless child !”

H. W. P.

WOULD GOD I WERE NOW BY THE SEA!

From Euripides.

WOULD

God I were now by the sea !
By the winding wet-worn caves,
By the ragged rents of the rocks !
And that there as a bird I might be
White-winged with the sea-skimming flocks;

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by

BROTHERS, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

ROBERTS

AND ever, as he travelled, he would climb

The farthest mountain; yet the heavenly chime,
The mighty tolling of the far-off spheres
Beating their pathway, never touched his ears.
But wheresoe'er he rose the heavens rose,
And the far-gazing mountain could disclose
Nought but a wider earth; until one height
Showed him the ocean stretched in liquid light,
And he could hear its multitudinous roar,

Its plunge and hiss upon the pebbled shore.
Then Jubal silent sat, and touched his lyre no more.

*

He thought, “ This world is great : but I am weak,
And where the sky bends is no solid peak

To give me footing; but, instead, this main,
Like myriad maddened horses thundering o'er the

plain."

GEORGE Eliot