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Arethusa

And now from their fountains

In Enna's mountains
Down one vale where the morning basks,

Like friends once parted

Grown single-hearted,
They ply their watery tasks.

At sun-rise they leap

From their cradles steep
In the curve of the shelving hill;

At noontide they flow

Through the woods below,
And the meadows of Asphodel ;

And at night they sleep

In the rocking deep,
Beneath the Ortygian shore;

Like spirits that lie

In the azure sky,
When they love, but live no more.

Shelley.

The Clown's Reply. John Trott was desired by two witty peers To tell them the reason why Asses had ears : • An't please you,' quoth John, “I'm not given to letters, Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; Howe'er from this time I shall ne'er see your graces, As I hope to be saved, without thinking of Asses.'

Goldsmith.

Arethusa.

GRAta jacet vallis sub amænæ montibus Ennæ,

Pandit ad Eoum quæ sua rura jubar;
Hanc Arethusa colit; colit amnis amator eandem;

Labitur undarum læta labore dies :
Dulce sodalitium: rediit mens una duobus ;

Lis, modo quæ rupit, firmat amicitiam.
Cautibus exsiliunt montano mane cubili;

Inde terunt varias prona fluenta vias; Pascua maturo quærunt viridantia Phæbo,

Asphodelique novis roribus herba tumet. Undosi demum delapsos in maris æstum

Serior Ortygio contegit umbra sinu. Tales sidereis animæ lætantur in arvis, Queis, simul effluxit vita, relucet amor.

W. J. L.

Catus quantumbis rusticus.

· NovISTINE,' duo proceres dixere faceti,

· Auriculis cur gaudet Asellus, Optime Trottorum ?' *Sum plane indoctior,' ille ;

• Nec vobis plus scire decorum est : At mihi Asellorum, cum vos vidisse, Magistri,

• Contigerit, referetur imago.'

H. D.

The Dying Lover.

Go tell Amynta, gentle Swain,
I will not die, nor dare complain ;
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To souls opprest, and dumb with grief,
The Gods have given this kind relief
That Music should in sounds convey,
What dying lovers dare not say.

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A sigh or tear, perhaps, she'll give;
But love on pity cannot live;
Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid.
Tell her my woes so fast increase,
That soon they will be past redress;
But ah! the wretch, that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

Suckling.

Fragmentum.

ΚΑΤΘΑΝΟΙΣΑ δε κείσ' ουδέποτα μνημοσύνα σέθεν έσσετ' ουδέποτ' εις ύστερον ου γαρ πεδέχεις βρόδων των εκ Πιερίας, αλλ' αφανής κήν Αίδα δόμοις φοιτασεις πεδ' αμαυρων νεκύων εκπεποταμένα.

Sappho.

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Amator moriens.

Vade age, me nostræ moriturum, pastor, Amyntæ,

Me querula ausurum verba movere nega;
Illa quidem, numeris modo sit conjuncta canoris,

Vox erit eloquio plus valitura meo;
Hoc tamen oppressæ menti, mutæque dolore,

Munere cælicolum dulce levamen adest,
Ut referat, quales moriens vix posset amator

Edere, concordes carmine Musa sonos.

Illa dabit lacrymam; fors et suspiria ducet ;

Vivere amor, tantum quem miserere, nequit;
Pectora pectoribus, dic, respondere necesse est,

Et pretio est veri solus amoris amor.
Tam cito, perge loqui, nostri crevere dolores,

Quos pia non poterit tangere cura diu;
Sed miser exspectat, dum mors obsignet ocellos,
Cui vox præ nimio fracta dolore silet.

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Immortalia ne speres.

Quin læto jaceas perpetuo, nec memores tui
Voces te celebrent, Pieriæ participem rosæ ;
Ast incorporea ac sub tenebris Tartareæ domus
Exiles volitans per Lemures tu spatiabere.

W. W.

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The Reformation of the Knabe of Hearts.

The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts

All on a summer's day;
The Knave of Hearts,
He stole those tarts,

And took them quite away.
The King of Hearts,
He missed those tarts,

And beat the knave full sore;
The Knave of Hearts
Brought back those tarts,
And vowed he'd steal no more.

Canning.

Poor Lubin.

On his death-bed poor Lubin lies,

His spouse is in despair :
With frequent sobs and mutual cries

They both express their care.

A different cause,' says Doctor Sly,

• The same effect may give : Poor Lubin fears that he may die,

His wife that he may live.'

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