Him savage panthers in wild woods deplor'd,
For him fierce wolves and fiercer lions roar'd,

Bulls, steers, and heifers wail'd their shepherd-swain—
(Begin, ye Nine, your sweet bucolic strain.)
First from the mountain winged Hermes came;
"Ah! whence," he cried, "proceeds this fatal flame?
What Nymph, O Daphnis, steals thy heart away?"
(Begin, ye Nine, the sweet bucolic lay.)

The goatherds, hinds, and shepherds, all inquir'd
What sorrow ail'd him, and what fever fir'd?

Priapus came, soft pity in his eye,

"And why this grief," he said, "ah, Daphnis, why?"Silent he sate, consuming in his pain.

(Begin, ye Nine, the sweet bucolic strain.)

Next Venus' self the hapless youth addrest,

With faint forc'd smiles, but anger at her breast: "Daphnis, you boasted you could Love subdue, But tell me, has not Love defeated you?

Alas, you sunk beneath his mighty sway." (Begin, ye Nine, the sweet bucolic lay.)

Ah, cruel Venus !" Daphnis thus began, "Venus abhorr'd! Venus, thou curse to man! Too true, alas! thou say'st that Love has won; Too sure thy triumphs mark my setting sun. Hence to thy swain, to Ida, queen, away!" (Begin, ye Nine, the sweet bucolic lay.) "There bowering oaks will compass you around, Here low cyperus scarcely shades the ground: Here bees with hollow hums disturb the day." (Begin, ye Nine, the sweet bucolic lay.) "Adonis feeds his flocks, though passing fair; With his keen darts he wounds the flying hare,

And hunts the beasts of prey through wood and plain." (Begin, ye Nine, the sweet bucolic strain.)

"Say-if again arm'd Diomed thou see

I've conquered Daphnis, and now challenge thee:
Dar'st thou, bold chief, with me renew the fray?"

(Cease, Muses, cease the sad bucolic strain.)—
Now give me cup and goat, that I may drain
Her milk, a sweet libation to the Nine-
Another day a loftier song be mine!

Goatherd. O be thy mouth with figs Egilean fill'd,
And drops of honey on thy lips distill'd!
Thine is the cup (for sweeter far thy voice
Than when in Spring the grasshoppers rejoice).
Sweet is its smell, as though the blissful hours
Had newly dipp'd it in their fragrant showers.
Come, Ciss! let Thyrsis milk thee-kids, forbear
Your gambols-lo! the wanton goat is there.

CHARACTER OF PTOLEMY PHILADELPHUS.

What is his character? A royal spirit
To point out genius and encourage merit;
The poet's friend, humane, and good, and kind;
Of manners gentle, and of generous mind.

He marks his friend, but more he marks his foe;
His hand is ever ready to bestow:

Request with reason, and he'll grant the thing,
And what he gives, he gives it like a king.'

THE HONEY STEALER.

As Cupid once, the arrant's rogue alive,
Robbed the sweet treasures of the fragrant hive,
A bee the frolic urchin's finger stung.

With many a loud complaint his hands he wrung;
Stamped wild the ground, his rosy finger blew,
And straight in anguish to his mother flew:
"Mother," he cried, in tears all frantic drowned,
""Twas but a little bee, and what a wound !”
But she, with smiles, her hapless boy surveyed,
And thus, in chiding accents, sweetly said:
"Of thee a truer type is nowhere found,
Who, though so little, giv'st so great a wound."

EPITAPH ON EURYMEDON.

Here doomed in early life to die,
Eurymedon, thy relics lie!

Ptolemy Philadelphus was a prince of great learning, and a zealous promoter and encourager of it in others, an industrious collector of books, and a generous patron to all those who were eminent in any branch of literature. The fame of his generosity drew seven celebrated poets to his court, who, from their number, were called the Pleiades: these were Aratus, Theocritus, Callimachus, Lycophron, Apollonius, Nicander and Philicus. To him we are indebted for the Greek translation of the Scriptures, called the Septuagint. Notwithstanding his peculiar taste for the sciences, yet he applied himself with indefatigable industry to business, studying all possible methods to render his subjects happy, and raise his dominions to a flourishing condition. Athenæus called him the richest of all the princes of his age; and Appian says, that as he was the most magnificent and generous of all kings in laying out his money, so he was of all the most skilful and industrious in raising it. He built an incredible number of cities, and left so many other public monuments of his magnificence, that all works of an extravagent taste and grandeur were proverbially called Philadelphian works.

"For arrantest, or most arrant.

Thy little wandering son we see,
While the cold earth incloses thee.
Yet is thy spirit with the blest,
Enthroned amid the realms of rest;
And all shall watch, with duteous care
For thy dear sake, the infant heir.

THE DISTAFF.1

Distaff! quick implement of busy thrift,
Which careful housewives ply, blue-eyed Athene's gift,
We go to rich Miletus, where is seen

The fane of Cypris 'mid the rushes green:
Praying to mighty Zeus, for voyage fair,
Thither to Nicias would I now repair,
Delighting, and delighted by my host,

Whom the sweet-speaking Graces love the most
Of all their favorites; thee, distaff bright!
Of ivory wrought, with art most exquisite,
A present for his lovely wife I take.

With her thou many various works shalt make:
Garments for men, and such as women wear,
Of silk, whose color is the sea-blue clear.
And she so diligent a housewife is,
That ever, for well-ankled Theugenis,
Thrice in a year are shorn the willing sheep
Of the fine fleeces, which for her they keep.

She loves what love right-minded women all;

For never should a thriftless prodigal

Own thee with my consent; 'twere shame and pity!
Since thou art of that most renowned city,'

Built by Corinthian Archias erewhile,
The marrow of the whole Sicilian isle.
But in the house of that physician wise,
Instructed how by wholesome remedies
From human kind diseases to repel,
Thou shalt in future with Ionians dwell,
In beautiful Miletus; that the fame
For the best distaff Theugenis may claim,
And thou mayst ever to her mind suggest
The memory of her song-loving guest.
The worth of offering from friend we prize,
Not in the gift but in the giver lies.

This sweet ditty was written to commend an ivory distaff, which the poet, about to sail for Miletus, intended as a present for Theugenis, the wife of Nicias, the physician. Under the semblance of teaching the distaff what sort of a mistress it is about to have, he cleverly and gracefully praises a most honorable matron and her husband.

Syracuse, the capital of Sicily, said once to have had nearly a million of inhabitants.

FLOURISHED ABOUT 264 в. C.

CLEANTHES, a stoic philosopher, was born at Assos in Troas, about 300 B. C. He first placed himself under Crates, and then under Zeno, whose faithful disciple he continued for nineteen years. Being very poor, in order to pay his master the necessary fee for his instructions, he worked the greater part of the night in drawing water for gardens; to and as he spent the day in philosophical pursuits, and had no visible means of support, he was summoned before the court of Areopagus account for his way of living. The judges, on hearing his case, were so delighted with the evidences of his industry, which he produced, that they voted him ten minæ, though Zeno would not permit him to At the death of Zeno, B. C. 263, Cleanthes succeeded him accept it. His poverty was relieved by a present of 3000 minæ in his school. from Antigonus. He died at the advanced age of eighty. This conCleanthes wrote numerous treatises upon moral and philosophical subjects, but nothing is extant but his "Hymn to Zeus." tains some exalted views of a Supreme Deity, and Dr. Doddridge has declared that "it is, perhaps, the finest piece of pure unadulterated natural religion to be found in the whole heathen world."

HYMN TO JUPITER.

Most glorious of th' immortal Powers above!
Oh thou of many names! mysterious Jove!
For evermore Almighty! Nature's source!
That govern'st all things in their order'd course!
All-hail to thee! since, innocent of blame,
E'en mortal creatures may address thy name;
For all that breathe, and creep the lowly earth,
Echo thy being with reflected birth;
Thee will I sing, thy strength for aye resound:
The universe, that rolls this globe around,
Moves wheresoe'er thy plastic influence guides,
And, ductile, owns the God whose arm presides.

1 An admirable law!

What a scattering there would be if such an one

were enforced in all our larger cities and towns.

The Greek Mrz (Latin, Mina), was worth about eighteen dollars; but according to the value of money then, the ten mine would now be worth $1000.

The lightnings are thy ministers of ire;
The double-fork'd, and ever living fire;
In thy unconquerable hands they glow,
And at the flash all nature quakes below.
Thus, thunder-arm'd, thou dost creation draw
To one immense, inevitable law:

And, with the various mass of breathing souls
Thy power is mingled, and thy spirit rolls.
Dread genius of creation! all things bow
To thee; the universal monarch thou!
Nor aught is done without thy wise control,
On earth, or sea, or round th' ethereal pole,
Save when the wicked, in their frenzy blind,
Act o'er the follies of a senseless mind.
Thou curb'st th' excess; confusion to thy sight
Moves regular; the unlovely scene is bright.
Thy hand, educing good from evil, brings
To one apt harmony the strife of things.
One ever-during law still binds the whole,
Though shunn'd, resisted, by the sinner's soul.

Wretches while still they course the glittering prize, The law of God eludes their ears and eyes.

Life then were virtue, did they this obey;

But wide from life's chief good they headlong stray.
Now glory's arduous toils the breast inflame;
Now avarice thirsts, insensible of shame ;
Now sloth unnerves them in voluptuous ease;
And the sweet pleasures of the body please.
With eager haste they rush the gulf within,
And their whole souls are center'd in their sin.
But, oh, great Jove! by whom all good is given!
Dweller with lightnings, and the clouds of heaven!
Save from their dreadful error lost mankind!
Father! disperse these shadows of the mind!
Give them thy pure and righteous law to know;
Wherewith thy justice governs all below.
Thus honor'd by the knowledge of thy way,
Shall men that honor to thyself repay;
And bid thy mighty works in praises ring;
As well befits a mortal's lips to sing:

More blest, nor men, nor heavenly powers, can be,
Than when their songs are of thy law and thee!