Under the towering Trachis crags,

And the Spercheios vale, shaken with groans,

And the roused Maliac gulph,

And scared Etæan snows,

To achieve his son's deliverance, O my child!

FRAGMENT OF CHORUS OF A

DEJANEIRA.

FRIVOLOUS mind of man,

Light ignorance, and hurrying, unsure thoughts,

Though

man bewails you not,

How I bewail you!

Little in your prosperity

Do you seek counsel of the Gods.
Proud, ignorant, self-adored, you live alone.
In profound silence stern

Among their savage gorges and cold springs
Unvisited remain

The

great oracular shrines.

Thither in your adversity

Do

you betake yourselves for light, But strangely misinterpret all you hear.

New hearts with the enquirer's holy robe, And purged, considerate minds.

And him on whom, at the end

Of toil and dolour untold,

The Gods have said that repose

At last shall descend undisturb'd,
Him you expect to behold

In an easy old age, in a happy home;
No end but this you praise.

But him, on whom, in the prime
Of life, with vigour undimm'd,
With unspent mind, and a soul
Unworn, undebased, undecay'd,
Mournfully grating, the gates

Of the city of death have for ever closed-
Him, I count him, well-starr'd.

PHILOMELA.

HARK! ah, the nightingale !

The tawny-throated!

Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark-what pain!

O wanderer from a Grecian shore,
Still, after many years, in distant lands,
Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain

That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain

Say, will it never heal?

And can this fragrant lawn
With its cool trees, and night,
And the sweet, tranquil Thames,
And moonshine, and the dew,
To thy rack'd heart and brain
Afford no balm ?

Dost thou to-night behold,

Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild?

Dost thou again peruse

With hot cheeks and sear'd eyes

The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's shame?

Dost thou once more assay

Thy flight, and feel come over thee,

Poor fugitive, the feathery change

Once more, and once more seem to make resound

With love and hate, triumph and agony,

Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale?

Listen, Eugenia—

How thick the bursts come crowding through the

leaves !

Again-thou hearest?

Eternal passion!

Eternal pain!