And David came,
Robed and anointed, forth, and to the house.
Of God went up to pray.
And he returned,
And they set bread before him, and he ate;
And when they marvelled, he said, “Where-
fore mourn?

The child is dead, and I shall go to him,
But he will not return to me.

NATHANIEL P. WILLIS.

PICTURE OF WAR.

But mark yon war-worn man who looks on
high

With thought and valor mirrored in his eye:
Not all the gory revels of the day

Can fright the vision of his home away—
The home of love and its associate smiles.
His wife's endearment and his baby's wiles.
Fights he less brave through recollected bliss.
With step retreating or with sword remiss?
Ah, no! remembered home's the warrior's
charm,

Speed to his sword and vigor to his arm;
For this he supplicates the god afar,

PIRIT of light and life, when battle Fronts the steeled foe and mingles in the

SPI

rears

List! War-peals thunder on the battle-field, And many a hand grasps firm the glittering shield,

As on, with helm and plume, the warriors

come,

And the glad hills repeat their drum.
stormy
And now are seen the youthful and the
gray
With bosoms firing to partake the fray;

A battle-steed beneath his rider flung;
Oh, nevermore he'll rear with fierce delight,
Roll his red eyes and rally for the fight.
Pale on his bleeding breast the warrior lies,
While from his ruffled lids the white swelled
eyes

The first, with hearts that consecrate the Ghastly and grimly stare upon the skies.

deed,

All

eager rush to vanquish or to bleed, Like young waves racing in the morning sun, That rear and leap with reckless fury on.

Afar, with bosom bared unto the breeze,
White lips and glaring eyes and shivering

knees,

Weep, neighbors, weep! Do you not hear Give me but what this riband bound,

A

APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.

Enamored. Then she fixed full opposite
Her eyes upon him, at a loss what word
She first should speak, yet wishing in a breath
To utter all her fond impetuous thoughts,
And with spontaneous act she took the drug
From forth her fragrant girdle's folds, and he
Received it at her hands elate with joy;
And she had drawn the spirit from her breast,
Had he but asked it, sighing out her soul
Into his bosom. So from Jason's head,
Waving with yellow locks, Love lightened

POLLONIUS, who was born about 235 B. C., was a native of Naucratis, in Egypt, and resided at Alexandria, but migrated to Rhodes, where he opened a school of rhetoric, and where he recited in public his poem on the Argonauts, which was rewarded by the Rhodians with the freedom of their city. Hence he acquired the surname of "Rhodius." He was recalled by Ptolemy Euergetes, and succeeded Callimachus as keeper of the Alexandrian Library. He wrote treatises on the "Origin of Alex- A lambent flame and snatched the darted andria" and on "Cnidos," and other works, which are lost.

forth

rays

That trembled from his eyes. Her inmost

soul

Floating in bliss, she all dissolved away
As dew on roses in the morning's beams.
Evaporating melts. So stood they both,
And bent in bashfulness their eyes on earth,
Then glanced them on each other, while their

brows

If the sublime be the characteristic of Homer, the romantic is that of Apollonius, and in nature and tenderness he needs not shun a comparison even with Homer. No poet has ever excelled the Rhodian in the refined display of female character, in the gay amenities, the modest reserves, the delicate artifices, the conflicting uncertainties and the Smiled joyous in serenity of love. poignant sensibilities of female love. Dido is but a feeble copy of the interesting and impassioned Medea. Elegance of style, pict uresqueness of imagery, delicacy of imagination, Apollonius Rhodius may at least dispute with Virgil, and he possesses also that fresh and vigorous simplicity which may be said to be almost peculiar to the poets of Greece.

MEDEA GIVES JASON THE DRUG. FROM THE GREEK OF APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.

So said the youth, with admiration high Gilding his speech, but she, her eyes cast down,

PILLA

Translation of E. F. PRESTON.

EPITAPH.

FROM THE GREEK OF ERINNA.

LARS of death! carved Syrens! tearful urns!

In whose sad keeping my poor dust is laid, To him that near my tomb his footstep turns, Stranger or Greek, bid hail! and say a

maid

Rests, in her bloom, below: her sire the name Of Myrtis gave, her birth and lineage high,

Smiled with enchanting sweetness: all her And say her bosom-friend Erinna came,

soul

Melted within her, of his words of praise

And on this marble graved her elegy.

Translation of WAKEFIELD BLAND.