For I was coming, yes, I was, I swear by love's delight, With three or four good friends of mine, about the fall of night; Sweet apples in my robe for you, my head with poplar crowned

(The poplar white of Hercules), with purple fillets round. (O Lady Moon, regard my love! hear how it did abound!) And if you chose to let me in - why, very well — in truth They say I am, as men go now, a tall and handsome youth; I should have been contented with one kiss of your sweet mouth.

But if you had repelled me then, and bolted fast your gate, We should have come with torch and axe we're not the men to wait.

(O Lady Moon, regard my love! Oh, hear me whence it came).

So Cyprian Aphrodite is the first my thanks to claim, And after Aphrodite, you have saved me from my fate, Dear lady, by inviting me to come within your gate, When I was half consumed by love, for truly love's desire Becometh oft a burning ray more fierce than Vulcan's fire." So said he; I, too credulous, believed the tale he told, And took him by the hand at once, and in my arms did fold. Our couch was soft, our lips were warm, our whisperings were sweet;

I will not babble, Lady Moon, nor all we said repeat. And from that time to yesterday he saw by me no blame, Nor I by him, until to-day an ancient gossip came (The mother of our piping-girl, Philista is her name); This very day, when up the heavens the steeds immortal sped,

That bring the rosy-fingered morn back from her ocean bed. She told me many other things, and "Delphis loves," she said. She did not tell me if his love were wedded wife or maid, That I might know it certainly; but only did pretend He poured his cup of pleasure full, and hurried to his end; And that her house with crowns of his was thickly garlanded. Such was the old wife's narrative. It was the truth she said. For now it is the twelfth day that I wait and see him not; He has some other dear delight, and we are all forgot. But now I'l try to win him back with philtres — should he still

Torment me thus, I'll drive him to his destiny, I will;

So mighty are the drugs I have safe guarded in my chest. Of old I learned them, mistress mine, from an Assyrian guest.

Then turn thy chariot ocean-ward, then Lady Moon, adieu! And I will bear my heavy grief, and live my sorrows through. Farewell, fair Moon! and fare ye well, ye other stars of light, That follow at the chariot wheel of softly-gliding night!

AN AMEBEAN FROM THEOCRITUS. Literary World, February 1849.

MENALCAS.

VALLEY and rivulet!

Earth's fairest daughters!

If e'er Menalcas yet
Sang to your waters
Songs that ye love indeed,
While his pipe trilleth
Do ye his lambkins feed
As his soul willeth;
And should our Daphnis dear
Bring his kids ever,
May he find plenty here,

Failling him never.

DAPHNIS.

Grasses and living wells!
Sweetest things growing,*
Deem ye like Philomel's,
Daphnis' strains flowing?
Feed then his little flock,

And, should his friend come,
May he of richest stock

Ne'er to the end come.

* A singular expression, but exactly that of the original:

κρᾶναι καὶ βοτάναι γλυκερὸν φυτόν.

Maid's love makes man to moan,

Yea, Father Jove too,
I have not loved alone;
Thou hast felt love too.

THE VENGEANCE OF EROS.

IMITATED FROM THEOCRITUS.
American Review, November 1848.

A WOOER very passionate once loved a cruel May Her form was fair beyond compare, but bitter was her way; She hated him that loved her, and was unkind for aye, Nor knew she Love, how great the god, how perilous his bow, How bitter are the shafts he sends on her that is his foe. Whene'er they met, whene'er they spoke, immovable was she, And gave him not a gleam of hope to soothe his misery. No smile her proud lip had for him, no pleasant glance her eye;

Her tongue would find no word for him, her hand his hand deny.

But as a forest-dwelling beast far from the hunter flies,
So did she ever treat the wretch: dire scorn was in her eyes;
Her lips were firmly set at him, her face transformed with ire,
And anger paled her haughty brow that used to glow like fire.
Yet even so to look on she was fairer than before,
And by her very haughtiness inflamed her lover more;
Until so great a blaze of love he could no longer bear,
But went before her cruel door and wept his sorrows there,
And kissed the stubborn threshold, and cried in his despair-
"O savage girl and hateful! of no human birth art thou!
Stone-hearted girl, unworthy love! I come before thee now
To offer thee my latest gift my death for ne'er again
Would I incense thee, maiden, more, nor give thee any pain.
But whither thou hast sentenced me, I go, for there, they say,
For lovers is forgetfulness, a cure, a common way;
Yet not e'en that, the cure of all, my longing can abate.
I bid these doors of thine farewell, but well I know thy fate.
The rose like thee is beautiful in time, it fades away;
And beautiful Spring's violet which withers in a day:

The lily is exceeding fair; it falls and wastes anon:
The snow is white; it hardens first, and then is quickly gone;
And lovely is the bloom of youth, but short-lived is its prime.
And thou shalt love as I have loved 'twill surely come

- that time,

When thou shalt look within thyself and weep in bitter woe. But grant me, love, this last request one kindness now

bestow:

When thou hast found me hanging dead before thy portal here, O pass not by my wretched corse, but stand and drop a tear, And loose the cord, and wrap me up in garments of thine own, And give one kiss, the first and last that e'er I shall have known.

And do not fear to kiss the dead the dead lips will not

move;

I cannot change to life again, though thou shouldst change to love.

And hollow out a tomb for me, my hopeless love to hide; Nor go away till thou three times 'Farewell, my friend,' hast cried.

And if thou wilt, say also this, 'My friend was good and brave;'

And what I write upon thy wall write thou upon my grave! 'Love slew the man that lieth here; wayfarer pass not by, But stop and say, A cruel May hath caused him here to lie.""

The heartless fair came forth at morn, and there her lover

hung.

She nothing said, nor wept a tear that he had died so young. Her careless garments brushed the corse that hung before

her bath;

The wonted fountain tempted her, she sought the pleasant

bath,

And braved the god whom she had spurned; for at that very place,

A marble Cupid crowned the wave high o'er a marble base. The conscious statue toppled prone; the stream with blood was dyed;

The cruel girl's departing voice came floating on the tide. Rejoice and triumph, ye that love! The god his wronger slew. And love, all ye that are beloved! the god will have his due.