Mourning her bleeding lord; and, though a slave,
Washed his stained corse in Simois' shallower wave;
Soiled her fair locks; and in her slender hold
Culled from the pile those bones of giant mould.

PROPERTIUS, BY ELTON.

ON FLAXMAN'S STATUE OF PENELOPE. THE suitors sinned, but with a fair excuse, Whom all this elegance might well seduce; Nor can our censure on the husband fall, Who for a wife so lovely slew them all.

COWPER.

AJAX AND CAMILLA.

WHEN Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,

The line too labors and the words move slow.

Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,

Flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the

main.

POPE.

So when Æneas through the flames of Troy Bore his pale sire, and led his lovely boy, With loitering step the fair Creusa staid, And death involved her in eternal shade.

DARWIN.

DIDO.

UNHAPPY, Dido, was thy fate

In first and second married state!
One husband caused thy flight by dying,

Thy death the other caused by flying.

ENEAS AND ANCHISES.

I WAS born free as Cæsar; so were you;
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores,
Cæsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood

And swim to yonder point? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow. So indeed he did.
The torrent roared, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Cæsar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink."
Then, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Cæsar; and this man

Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body

If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.

SHAKESPEARE.

THE SIBYL.

WORLDLY WISDOM.

IF future fate she plans, 'tis all in leaves,
Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss;
At the first blast it vanishes in air.

As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves, The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare, The price still rising as in number less.

YOUNG.

ELYSIUM.

FAIR wert thou, in the dreams

Of elder time, thou land of glorious flowers,
And summer winds, and low-toned silvery streams,
Dim with the shadows of thy laurel bowers,
Where, as they passed, bright hours

Left no faint sense of parting, such as clings
To earthly love, and joy in loveliest things!

Fair wert thou, with the light

Of thy blue hills and sleepy waters, cast
From purple skies ne'er deepening into night,
Yet soft, as if each moment were their last

Of glory, fading fast

Along the mountains! but thy golden day
Was not as those that warn us of decay.

And ever, through thy shades,

A swell of deep Æolian sound went by,
From fountain voices in their secret glades,
And low reed-whispers, making sweet reply
To summer's breezy sigh!

And young leaves trembling to the wind's light breath,
Which ne'er had touched them with a hue of death!
MRS. HEMANS.

THE FORTUNATE ISLES.

WHATEVER of true life there was in thee,*

Leaps in our age's veins ;

Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care, Float the green "Fortunate Isles,"

Where all thy hero spirits dwell and share

Our martyrdoms and toils.

The present moves attended

With all of brave and excellent and fair

That made the old time splendid.

*The Past.

LOWELL.