ἐκ νεφέων δέ οἱ ἀντάϋσε βροντᾶς αἴσιον φθέγμα· λαμπραὶ δ ̓ ἦλθον ἀκτῖνες στεροπᾶς ἀπορηγ

νύμεναι.

ἀμπνοὰν δ' ἥρωες ἔστασαν θεοῦ σάμασιν

πιθόμενοι· κάρυξε δ' αὐτοῖς

'ET. J'.

ἐμβαλεῖν κώπαισι τερασκόπος ἁδείας ἐνίπτων ἐλπίδας · εἰρεσία δ ̓ ὑπεχώρησεν ταχειᾶν ἐκ παλαμᾶν ἄκορος. PINDAR's Fourth Pythian Ode.

FRIDAY, APRIL 7.

Into English Prose.

Ταῦτα δ ̓ εἰπὼν, καὶ μεταστραφεὶς πρὸς τοὺς ἐναντίους, ἡσυχίαν εἶχε· καὶ γὰρ ὁ μάντις παρήγ γειλεν αὐτοῖς, μὴ πρότερον ἐπιτίθεσθαι, πρὶν ἂν τῶν σφετέρων ἢ πέσοι τὶς ἢ τρωθείη· ἐπειδὰν μέντοι τοῦτο γένηται, ἡγησόμεθα μὲν, ἔφη, ἡμεῖς, νίκη δὲ ὑμῖν ἔσται ἑπομένοις, ἐμοὶ μέντοι θάνατος, ὡς γέ μοι δοκεῖ. Καὶ οὐκ ἐψεύσατο· ἀλλ ̓ ἐπεὶ ἀνέλαβον τὰ ὅπλα, αὐτὸς μὲν, ὥσπερ ὑπὸ μοίρας τινὸς ἀγόμενος, ἐκπηδήσας πρῶτος ἐμπεσὼν τοῖς πολεμίοις ἀποθνήσκει, καὶ τέθαπται ἐν τῇ διαβάσει τοῦ Κηφισσοῦ· οἱ δ ̓ ἄλλοι ἐνίκων, καὶ κατεδίωξαν μέχρι τοῦ ὁμαλοῦ. ἀπέθανον δ ̓ ἐνταῦθα τῶν μὲν τριάκοντα Κριτίας τε καὶ Ἱππόμαχος, τῶν δ' ἐν Πειραιεῖ δέκα ἀρχόντων Χαρμίδης ὁ Γλαύκωνος, τῶν δ ̓ ἄλλων περὶ ἑβδομήκοντα. καὶ τὰ μὲν ὅπλα ἔλαβον, τοὺς δὲ χιτῶνας οὐδενὸς τῶν πολιτῶν ἐσκύλευσαν. ἐπεὶ δὲ τοῦτο ἐγένετο, καὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς ὑποσπόνδους ἀπεδίδοσαν, προσιόντες ἀλλήλοις πολλοὶ διελέγοντο. Κλεόκριτος δὲ, ὁ τῶν Μυστῶν κήρυξ, μάλ' ἔμφωνος ὤν, κατασιωπησάμενος ἔλεξεν· "Ανδρες πολῖται, τί ἡμᾶς ἐξελαύνετε; τί ἀποκτεῖναι

βούλεσθε; ἡμεῖς γὰρ ὑμᾶς κακὸν μὲν οὐδὲν πώποτε ἐποιήσαμεν, μετεσχήκαμεν δὲ ὑμῖν καὶ ἱερῶν τῶν σεμνοτάτων καὶ θυσιῶν καὶ ἑορτῶν τῶν καλλίστων, καὶ ξυγχορευταὶ καὶ ξυμφοιτηταί γεγενήμεθα καὶ ξυστρατιώται, καὶ πολλὰ μεθ ̓ ὑμῶν κεκινδυνεύκαμεν κατὰ γῆν καὶ κατὰ θάλατταν ὑπὲρ τῆς κοινῆς ἀμφοτέρων ἡμων σωτηρίας τε καὶ ἐλευθερίας. Πρὸς θεῶν πατρῴων καὶ μητρῴων καὶ ξυγγενείας καὶ κηδεστίας καὶ εταιρίας, πάντων γὰρ τούτων πολλοὶ κοινωνοῦμεν ἀλλήλοις, αἰδούμενοι καὶ θεοὺς καὶ ἀνθρώπους παύ σασθε ἁμαρτάνοντες ἐς τὴν πατρίδα, καὶ μὴ πείθεσθε τοῖς ἀνοσιωτάτοις τριάκοντα, οἳ ἰδίων κερδέων ἕνεκα ὀλίγου δεῖν πλείους ἀπεκτόνασιν Αθηναίων ἐν ὀκτω μησὶν, ἢ πάντες Πελοποννήσιοι δέκα ἔτη πολεμοῦντες. ἐξὸν δ ̓ ἡμῖν ἐν εἰρήνῃ πολιτεύεσθαι, οὗτοι τὸν πάντων αἴσχιστόν τε καὶ χαλεπώτατον καὶ ἀνοσιώτατον καὶ ἔχθιστον καὶ θεοῖς καὶ ἀνθρώποις πόλεμον ἡμῖν πρὸς ἀλλήλους παρέχουσιν. ἀλλ ̓ εὖ γε μέντοι ἐπίστασθε, ὅτι καὶ τῶν νῦν ὑφ ̓ ἡμῶν ἀποθανόντων οὐ μόνον ὑμεῖς ἀλλὰ καὶ ἡμεῖς ἔστιν οὕς πολλὰ κατεδακρύ σαμεν.—XENOPHON's History of Greece.

MONDAY, APRIL 10.

Into Greek Prose.

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The king of the Lacedæmonians, Archidamos, a wiser and honester man than any of his people, is forced to obey the passions he would control; and an army sixty thousand men is marching under his command to ravage Attica. The braver will rather burn their harvest than transfer to a sanguinary and insatiable enemy the means of inflicting evil on their relatives and friends. Few, I trust, are base enough, sacrilegious enough, to treat as guests, those whom you, before men and Gods, denounce as enemies. We will receive within our walls the firm and faithful. And now let the orators who have blamed our expenditure in the fortification of

the city, tell us again that it was improvident. They would be flying in dismay, had not those bulwarks been raised effectually. Did it require any sagacity to foresee that Athens would be the envy of every state around? Was there any man so ignorant as not to know that he who has lost all his enemies will soon lose all his energy?-W. S. LANDOR.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 12.

Into English Prose.

Nunc velim tibi sic persuadeas, si de his rebus ad senatum relatum sit, me existimaturum, summam mihi laudem tributam, si tu honorem meum sententiâ tuâ comprobaris. Idque, etsi talibus de rebus gravissimos homines et rogare solere, et rogari scio, tamen admonendum potius te a me, quam rogandum puto. Tu es enim is, qui me tuis sententiis sæpissime ornasti; qui oratione, qui prædicatione, qui summis laudibus in senatu, in concionibus ad cælum extulisti; cujus ego semper tanta esse verborum pondera putavi, ut, uno verbo tuo cum meâ laude conjuncto, omnia adsequi me arbitrarer. Te denique memini, quum cuidam clarissimo atque optimo viro supplicationem non decerneres, dicere, te decreturum, si referretur ob eas res, quas is consul in urbe gessisset. Tu idem mihi supplicationem decrevisti togato, non ut multis, re-publicâ bene gestâ, sed, ut nemini, re-publicâ conservatâ. Mitto, quod invidiam, quod pericula, quod omnes meas tempestates, et subieris, et multo etiam magis, si per me licuisset, subire paratissimus fueris; quod denique inimicum meum, tuum inimicum putaris; cujus etiam interitum, ut facile intelligerem, mihi quantum tribueres, Milonis causâ in senatu defendendâ, approbaris. A me autem hæc sunt profecta, quæ ego in beneficii loco non pono, sed in veri testimonii, atque judicii: ut præstantissimas tuas virtutes non tacitus admirarer; (quis enim idem non facit ?) sed in omnibus orationibus, sententiis dicen

dis, causis agendis, omnibus scriptis, Græcis, Latinis, omni denique varietate literarum mearum, te non modo iis, quos vidissemus, sed iis, de quibus audissemus, omnibus anteferrem. Quæres fortasse, quid sit, quod ego hoc nescio quid gratulationis, et honoris a senatu tanti æstimem. Agam jam tecum familiariter, ut est et studiis, et officiis nostris mutuis, et summâ amicitiâ dignum, et necessitudine etiam paternâ. Si quisquam fuit umquam remotus et natura, magis etiam, ut mihi quidem sentire videor, ratione atque doctrinâ, ab inani laude et sermonibus vulgi, ego profecto is sum. Testis est consulatus meus; in quo, sicut in reliquâ vitâ, fateor, ea me studiose secutum, ex quibus vera gloria nasci posset; ipsam quidem gloriam per se nunquam putavi expetendam.-CICERONIS Epistolæ.

FRIDAY, APRIL 14.

Into Latin Hexameters.

'Tis done, and all obey the mournful muse!
See, hills, and plains, and winds have heard the news:
The foaming sea o'erwhelms the frighten'd shore,
The vallies tremble, and the mountains roar.
See lofty oaks from firm foundations torn,
And stately towers in heaps of ruin mourn!
The gentle Thames, that rarely passion knows,
Swells with the sorrow, and her banks o'erflows:

What shrieks are heard! what groans! what dying cries!
E'en Nature's self in dire convulsions lies.

O! why did I survive the fatal day

That snatch'd the joys of all my life away?
Why was not I beneath some ruin lost,
Sunk in the seas, or shipwrecked on the coast?
Why did the fates spare this devoted head?
Why did I live to hear that thou wert dead?

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WALSH.

MONDAY, APRIL 17.

Into Greek Iambics.

My griefs not only pain me,

As a lingering disease,

But, finding no redress, ferment and rage;
Nor less than wounds immedicable,

Rankle and fester and gangreen,

To black mortification.

Thoughts, my tormentors, armed with deadly stings, Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, and raise Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb

Or medicinal liquor can assuage,

Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp.
Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er

To death's benumbing opium, as my only cure;
Thence faintings, swoonings of despair,

And sense of Heaven's desertion.

MILTON'S Sampson Agonistes.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19.

Into Latin Elegiacs.

But come ye nymphs, ye woodland spirits come, And with funereal flowers your tresses braid, While in the hallowed bower we raise the tomb, And consecrate the song to Mary's shade.

O sing what smiles her youthful morning wore,
Her's every charm, and every loveliest grace;
When Nature's happiest touch could add no more,
Heaven lent an angel's beauty to her face.

The song began-How bright her early morn!
What lasting joys her smiling fate portends!
To wield the awful British sceptres born!
And Gaul's young heir her bridal bed ascends.