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I am not fond of fancy's toys;
I rest so pleased with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.
I quake not at the thunder's crack,
I tremble not at noise of war,

I swoon not at the noise of wrack,
I shrink not at a blazing star;
I fear not loss, I hope not gain,

I envy none, I none disdain.-Sylvester.
MONDAY, March 23.

Into Greek Prose.

Difficult indeed is our situation. In all situations of difficulty, men will be influenced in the part they take not only by the reason of the case, but by the peculiar turn of their own character. The same ways to safety do not present themselves to all men, nor to the same men in different tempers. There is a courageous wisdom: there is also a false reptile prudence, the result not of caution but of fear. Under misfortunes it often happens that the nerves of the understanding are so relaxed, the pressing peril of the hour so completely confounds all the faculties, that no future danger can be properly provided for, can be justly estimated, can be so much as fully seen.-Burke.

WEDNESDAY, March 25.

Into Latin Hexameters.

He looked, and saw wide territory spread
Before him, towns and rural works between;
Cities of men with lofty gates and towns,
Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war,
Giants of mighty bone, and bold emprise;
Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed,
Single, or in array of battle ranged,

Both horse and foot, nor idly mustering stood;
One way a band select from forage drives
A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine,
From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock
Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain,
Their booty, scarce with life the shepherds fly,
But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray.

Paradise Lost, B. XI.

FRIDAY, March 27.

Into Latin Elegiacs.

Weave the crimson web of war,
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where our friends the conflict share,
Where they triumph, where they die.
As the paths of fate we tread

Wading through the ensanguined field,
Gondula and Geira spread

O'er the youthful king your shield:
We the reins to slaughter give,

Ours to kill, and ours to spare:
Spite of danger he shall live,

Weave the crimson web of war.

Sisters, hence with spurs of speed!
Each her thundering falchion wield;
Each bestride her sable steed,

Hurry, hurry, to the field.

Gray.-The Fatal Sisters,

MONDAY, March 30.

Into Greek Iambics.

Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste;
E'en whilst we speak, our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us every moment.
Alas! thou know'st not Cæsar's active soul,
With what a dreadful course he rushes on
From war to war. In vain has Nature formed
Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage;
He bounds o'er all; victorious in his march,
Through winds and waves and storms he works his way,
Impatient for the battle; one day more

Will set the victor thundering at our gates.

WEDNESDAY, April 1.

Into Greek Anapastics.

Man's feeble race what ills await!

Labour and penury, the racks of pain,

Disease and sorrows weeping train,

Addison's Cato.

And death, sad refuge from the storms of fate!
The fond complaint my song disprove,
And justify the laws of Jove.

Say, has he given in vain the heavenly muse?
Night, and all her sickly dews,

Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry,
He gives to range the dreary sky:

Till down the Eastern cliffs afar

Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war.

Gray's Progress of Poesy.

FRIDAY, April 3.

Into Latin Prose.

Charles then rose from his seat, and leaning on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, because he was unable to stand without support, he addressed himself to the audience, and from a paper which he held in his hand, in order to assist his memory, he recounted with dignity but without ostentation all the great things which he had undertaken and performed since the commencement of his administration. He observed that from the seventeenth year of his age he had dedicated all his thought and attention to public objects; reserving no portion of his time for the indulgence of his ease, and very little for the enjoyment of private pleasure: that either in a pacific or hostile manner he had visited Germany nine times, Spain_six times, France four times, Italy seven times, the Low Countries ten times, England twice, Africa as often, and had made eleven voyages by sea that while his health permitted him to discharge his duty, and the vigour of his constitution was equal, in any degree, to the arduous office of governing such extensive dominions, he had never shunned labour, nor repined under fatigue; that now, when his health was broken, and his vigour exhausted by the rage of an incurable distemper, his growing infirmities admonished him to retire.

Robertson's History of Charles V.

MONDAY, April 6.

Into Latin Alcaics.

Ah! what avails the lengthening mead,
By nature's kindest bounty spread

Along the vale of flowers!
Ah! what avails the darkening grove,
Or Philomel's melodious love,
That glads the midnight hours!
For me (alas!) the God of Day,
Ne'er glitters on the hawthorn spray,
Nor night her comfort brings:
I have no pleasure in the rose;
For me no vernal beauty blows,
Nor Philomela sings.

See how the sturdy peasants stride.
Adown yon hillock's verdant side,
In cheerful ignorance blest;
Alike to them the rose or thorn,
Alike arises every morn,
By gay contentment drest.

Welcome, O welcome, Pleasure's Queen,
And see along the velvet green

The jocund train advance:

With scattered flowers they fill the air,
The wood-nymph's dew-bespangled hair
Plays in the sportive dance.-Greville.

WEDNESDAY, April 15.

Into Latin Elegiacs.

When from the cave thou risest with the day,
To beat the woods, and rouse the bounding prey:
The cave with moss and branches I'll adorn,
And cheerful sit to wait my Lord's return.
And when thou frequent bringest the smitten deer,
(For seldom, archers say, thy arrows err)

I'll fetch quick fuel from the neighbouring wood,
And strike the sparkling flint, and dress the food:
The choicest herbs I to thy board will bring;
And draw thy water from the freshest spring:
And when at night with weary toil opprest,
Soft slumbers thou enjoy'st and wholesome rest,
Watchful I'll guard thee, and with midnight prayer,
Weary the gods to keep thee in their care.-Prior.

FRIDAY, April 17.

Into Greek Iambics.

With doubtful feet and wavering resolution,
I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson,
Which to have merited, without excuse,
I cannot but acknowledge. * *

But conjugal affection,
Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt,
Hath led me on, desirous to behold

Once more thy face, and know of thy estate,
If aught in my ability may serve

To lighten what thou sufferest, and appease
Thy mind with what amends is in my power,
Though late, yet in some part to recompense
My rash but more unfortunate misdeed.

Samson Agonistes.

MONDAY, April 20.

Into Greek Prose.

I appeal to the common sense of the public, to which I have ever directed myself. For of this I am sure that there is nothing else upon which to place a steady reliance. Trick and low cunning may be the fittest means to carry a particular point; if they have not common sense there is no prospect of gaining for them any real permanent good. The same passions which have been artfully used by an honest man for their advantage, may be more artfully employed by a dishonest man for their destruction. I desire them to apply their common sense to these arguments, not for my sake, but their own; they concern them most nearly; for the principles they contain lead to disgrace and ruin, and are inconsistent with every notion of civil society. Horne.-Letter to Junius.

WEDNESDAY, April 2.

Into Latin Prose.

Nor was he so fond of reigning as to retain the sceptre in an impotent hand, which was no longer able to protect his subjects or to render them happy:

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