Tum mihi, nam memini, pater est bona multa precatus, Pressa sed in forti est vana querela sinu. At graviter puerum mater lugebit ademptum, Dum reduci gressu tecta paterna petam.' "Causa satis justa est: ne sit flevisse pudori; Non oculos fletus dedecet iste tuos;

Quippe foret pariter si mens mihi criminis expers, Illa tuo pariter tacta dolore foret.

"Huc ades, O domini custos, fortissime miles,
Dic age, cur tristi pallor in ore sedet?
Scilicet id metuis, ne nobis irruat hostis

Gallicus? an venti verbera sæva tremis ?"
'Anne putas mortem causam satis esse timoris?
Non ita sum mollis, non ita triste mori est.
At deserta dolet quia, rapto conjuge, conjux,
Exsulat a fidis perpura missa genis.

6

Nempe uxor puerique, tui prope limina tecti,
Litus habent vitrei, pignora cara, lacus;
Et cum sæpe pia me poscent voce parentem,
Responsum pueris quod dabit illa suis?'
"Et tibi causa satis: ne quis contemnat amorem,
Nec tibi non æquum sic doluisse putet:
Ille, nec invideo, doleat, cui causa dolendi;

Læta tamen cum mens est mihi, læta fuga est.

"For who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour ?

Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes

We late saw streaming o'er.

For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Nor perils gathering near;

My greatest grief is that I leave
No thing that claims a tear.

"And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea:

But why should I for others groan,
When none will sigh for me?
Perchance my dog will whine in vain,
Till fed by stranger hands;

But long ere I come back again

He'd tear me where he stands.

"With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;

Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine.

Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves!

And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!

My native Land-Good Night!"

Byron.

"Versutæ quis enim, quamvis suspiret, amicæ,
Quis puram uxori crederet esse fidem?
Cæruleos novus ignis erit qui siccet ocellos;
Ridebunt, lacrymis quæ maduere, genæ.
Non lusus queror amissos, vitamque priorem,
Nec metuo in dubia quæ metuenda via:
At quia nil carum, nil post me dulce relinquo,
Nil dignum lacrymis, hoc, mihi crede, dolet.

"Jam toto vagus orbe feror, peregrinus et exsul, Et circumfusum trans mare solus eo;

At, licet externas hospes sim missus in oras,
Cum doleat nemo, cur miser ipse gemam ?
In breve fors ululet tempus canis, altera donec
Dextra cibum dederit, foverit alter amor;
Ante tamen multo quam tecta paterna revisam,
In foribus proprium dilaceraret herum.

"Te duce, remigio vectus, mea cymba, citato,
Trajiciam salsi spumea regna maris:
Te duce, terrarum visam nova litora, promptus
Quodlibet, id patrium ni sit, adire solum.
Cæruleæ salvete undæ, pelagique profundum;
Cumque oculos visus deserat iste meos,
Vos nemora, et solæ pariter salvete cavernæ:

Nox cœlo properat: terra paterna, vale !"

J. H.

Hey Diddle Diddle.

HEY diddle diddle! the cat and the fiddle!

The cow jumped over the moon ;

The little dog laught to see such fine sport;
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Woe's Me.

OH! how hard it is to find

The one just suited to our mind!
And if that one should be
False, unkind, or found too late,
What can we do but sigh at fate,

And sing, Woe's me! woe's me!'

Gammer Gurton.

Love's a boundless burning waste,
Where Bliss's stream we seldom taste,
And still more seldom flee

Suspense's thorns, Suspicion's stings:

Yet somehow Love a something brings

That's sweet, e'en when we sigh 'Woe's me!'

The Bouncing Girl.

WHAT care I how black I be?

Twenty pounds will marry me;
If twenty won't, forty shall;

For I'm my mother's bouncing girl.

Campbell.

Gammer Gurton.

HEI didulum

Hei Didulum.

atque iterum didulum! Felisque Fidesque !

Vacca super Lunæ cornua prosiluit;

Dumque cachinnabat risu ingeminante catellus,

Surripuit turpi Lanx cochleare fuga.

Eheu.

HEU queis artibus invenire fas est
Illam ex omnibus una quæ puellis
Uni conveniat puella cordi?
Quæ si dura foret vel infidelis,
Vel sera nimium reperta vita,
Quid restat, nisi fata ut increpantes

Eheu!' carmine flebili sonemus ?

Amor Marmaricas refert arenas,
Qua raris recreamur ora lymphis.
Spinas Ille alit asperi timoris,
Suspectæque malum fide venenum.
Atqui nescio quas Amor per artes
Dulce nescio quid feret, vel 'eheu !'
Ægra flebiliter sonante lingua.

Cum pretio.

Omnia Romæ

ΕΙΕΝ· μελαγχρώς εἰμ ̓ ἐγώ. τί μοι

H. D.

A. F. M.

μέλει ; ἢ γ ̓ ἔστιν ἄνδρα μναῖς ἐφέλκεσθαι τρισίν; εἰ μὴ τρισὶν δὲ, δὶς τρισὶν τίς ἀντερεῖ ; ἆρ ̓ οὐχὶ βούπαις εἰμι τῆς μητρὸς κόρη;

E. C. H.