FROM MOSCHUS. Τὰν ὅλα τὰν γλαυκὰν ὅταν ὤνεμος ἀτρέμα βάλλη, κ. τ. λ. I. WHEN winds that move not its calm surface sweep Of earth and its deep woods, where interspersed, Has chosen. But I my languid limbs will fling Beneath the plane, where the brook's murmuring Moves the calm spirit but disturbs it not. 1816. II. PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR. PAN loved his neighbour Echo; but that child The bright nymph Lyda :—and so three went weeping. As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr; The Satyr, Lyda :—and so love consumed them. To bear what they inflicted Justice doomed them; III. FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH Of bion. YE Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud,— Let every tender herb and plant and flower, From each dejected bud and drooping bloom, Their dells have known. And thou, O hyacinth, FROM BION. FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS. I MOURN Adonis dead-loveliest Adonis Dead, dead Adonis-and the Loves lament. The lovely one lies wounded in the mountains, His white thigh struck with the white tooth; he scarce His eyes beneath their lids are lustreless, The rose has fled from his wan lips, and there A deep deep wound Adonis A deeper Venus bears within her heart. See, his beloved dogs are gathering round- Alas for Cytherea !—the Loves mourn— For Venus whilst Adonis lived was fair Alas! her loveliness is dead with him. The oaks and mountains cry, "Ai ai! Adonis !" "Ai ai! Echo resounds, Adonis dead!" "Adonis dead." Who will weep not thy dreadful woe, O Venus? 66 From his fair thigh, now wasting, wailing loud, Stay, Adonis ! and mix my lips with thine! Wake yet a while, Adonis—oh but once !— FROM VIRGIL. THE TENTH ECLOGUE. [V. 1-26.] MELODIOUS Arethusa, o'er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream : Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew! The melancholy loves of Gallus. List! We sing not to the dead: the wild woods knew His sufferings, and their echoes . ... in what far woodlands wild Wandered ye when unworthy love possessed Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled, Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where Aonïan Aganippe expands The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim. The pine-encircled mountain, Mænalus, The cold crags of Lycæus, weep for him ; And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, Came shaking in his speed the budding wands And heavy lilies which he bore: we knew Pan the Arcadian. What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart's care With willing steps pursues another there. 1816. FROM DANTE. FROM A SONNET IN THE VITA NOVA-ADAPTED. WHAT Mary is when she a little smiles I cannot even tell or call to mind, It is a miracle so new, so rare. GUIDO, I would that Lapo, thou, and I, Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend With winds at will, where'er our thoughts might wend So that no change nor any evil chance Should mar our joyous voyage, but it might be That even satiety should still enhance Between our hearts their strict community; THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE CONVITO. I. YE who intelligent the Third Heaven move, |