that, instead of a Sovereign worn out with diseases, and scarcely half alive, he gave them one in the prime of life, accustomed already to govern, and who added to the vigour of youth, all the attention and sagacity of maturer years; that if, during the course of a long administration, he had committed any material error in government, or if, under the pressure of so many and great affairs, and amidst the attention which he had been obliged to give to them, he had either neglected or injured any of his subjects, he now implored their forgiveness; that for his part he should ever retain a grateful sense of their fidelity and attachment, and would carry the remembrance of it along with him to the place of his retreat as his sweetest consolation, as well as the best reward for his services; and in his last prayers to Almighty God, would pour forth his ardent wishes for their welfare.-Robertson's Charles V.

FRIDAY, April 24.

Into Latin Hexameters.

Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Then comes thy glory, in the summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year:
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks:
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales,
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In Winter, awful thou! with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolled,
Riding sublime thou bidst the world adore,
And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Thomson's Hymn.

MONDAY, April 27.

Into Greek Anapastics.

We, that are of purer fire,

Imitate the starry quire,

Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,
Lead in swift round the months and years.
Hail, Goddess of nocturnal sport,

Dark veiled Cotytto! to whom the secret flame
Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame
That ne'er art called, but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom,
* * * * Befriend

Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out.—Comus.

WEDNESDAY, April 29.

Into Latin Sapphics.

Thy fatal shafts unerring move;
I bow before thine altar, Love!
I feel thy soft resistless flame
Glide swift thro' all my vital frame.

For while I gaze my bosom glows,
My blood in tides impetuous flows;
Hope, fear, and joy, alternate roll,
And floods of transports whelm my soul!

My faltering tongue attempts in vain,
In soothing murmurs to complain;
My tongue some secret magic ties,
My murmurs sink in broken sighs!

Condemned to nurse eternal care,
And ever drop the silent tear;
Unheard I mourn, unknown I sigh,
Unfriended live, unpitied die.

Smollett, to Narcissa.

FRIDAY, May 1.

Into Latin Prose.

Sylla was the leader of the aristocratical interest, and it was his object to raise that interest from the low condition to which Marius and Cinna had reduced it,

and to invest it with a complete ascendancy in the commonwealth. This he had entirely effected. He had extirpated the chiefs of the popular party; he had plundered, and almost destroyed several states of Italy, who were used to support the popular cause at Rome; he had crippled the tribunitian power; had given to the nobility the exclusive possession of the judicial authority; had enriched the most eminent families by the sale of the confiscated estates, which his principal partisans had purchased at a low price; and he had provided for the security of his triumph by immense grants of lands to the soldiers by whose swords he had won it. He had raised to wealth and honours a great number of his own personal dependents; and he was himself in possession of a property amply sufficient to maintain him in a style of magnificence, and to give him the free enjoyment of his favourite pleasures. His pride had been gratified by the fullest revenge upon own private enemies, and by the absolute control which he had exercised in the settlement of the Republic, securing the interests of his party as he thought proper, without allowing them to direct or interfere with his measures.-Arnold.

MONDAY, May 4.

Into Latin Elegiacs.

Waft me, some soft and cooling breeze,
To Windsor's shady kind retreat,
Where sylvan scenes, wide-spreading trees,
Repel the dog-star's raging heat.
Where tufted grass, and mossy beds,
Afford a rural calm repose;

And woodbines hang their dewy heads,
And fragrant sweets around disclose.
Old oozy Thames, that flows fast by,
Along the smiling valley plays;
His glassy surface cheers the eye,

And through the flowery meadow strays.
His fertile banks with herbage green,
His vales with golden plenty swell;
Where'er his purer streams are seen,
The gods of health and pleasure dwell.
Wroxall

his

WEDNESDAY, May 6.

Into Greek Prose.

As to faction and sedition, I will grant that in aristocratical governments it generally arises from violence and oppression; but, in democratical governments, it always arises from the people's having too great a share in the government. For in all countries, and in all governments, there always will be many factious and unquiet spirits, who can never be at rest either in power or out of power: when in power they are never easy unless every man submits entirely to their direction; and when out of power, they are always working and intriguing against those that are in, without any regard to justice, or to the interest of their country. In popular governments such men have too many opportunities for working upon and corrupting the minds of the people, in order to raise discontents against those that have the management of public affairs for the time; and these discontents often break out into seditions and insurrections.-Walpole.

FRIDAY, May 8.

Into Greek Iambics.

LADY RANDolph.

How fares my Lord?

LORD RANDOLPH. That it fares well, thanks to
this gallant youth,

Whose valour saved me from a wretched death.
As down the winding vale I walked alone,

At the cross-way four armed men attacked me;
Who would have quickly laid Lord Randolph low,
Had not this brave and generous stranger come,
Like my good angel in the hour of fate,
And, mocking danger, made my foes his own.
They turned upon him, but his active arm

Struck to the ground, from whence they rose no

more,

The fiercest two; the other fled amain,

And left him master of the bloody field.-Home.

MONDAY, May 11.

Into Latin Hexameters.

With Palamon, above the rest in place
Lycurgus came, the surly King of Thrace;
Black was his beard, and manly was his face;
The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red:
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,

And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;
Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong,
Broad shouldered, and his arms were round and long.
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)
Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold:
Upright he stood, and bore aloft his shield,
Conspicuous from afar, and overlooked the field.
Dryden.-Palamon and Arcite.

WEDNESDAY, May 13.

Into Latin Prose.

Then it was, when the glare of the conqueror and the legislator were no longer thrown around him, that he sank into the mere selfish voluptuary, pampering his senses and his mind with the excitements of licentiousness and of elegant literature. His principal companions, according to Plutarch, were actors and performers of various kinds, some of whom, indeed, such as the famous Q. Roscius, were of unblemished reputation; but others were of the vilest class of those wretches who ministered to every appetite of their patrons, of those men of prostituted talents, who, above all others, are deserving of contempt and abhorrence. The intervals which were not passed in such society, Sylla employed in the composition of his own "Memoirs," a work in which he took great interest, and in which he brought down his history to within a few days of his death. It was about a year after he resigned the Dictatorship that he was attacked by the disorder which proved fatal to him, and which is said to have been one of the most loathsome that afflict humanity. We have, in truth, no very authentic