voices at variance, thunders,

And the Theatres three for the three Forums resound.

Four times happy is he, and times without number is happy,

Who the city of Rome, uninterdicted, enjoys.

thou, the rebellious,

Under the feet, at last, of the Great Captain hast laid.

Whoso shall tell me these things, that not to have seen will afflict me, Forthwith unto my house welcomed as guest shall he be.

sunshine dissolving,

And the waters no more delved from the indurate lake.

Nor is the sea now frozen, nor as before

o'er the Ister

Comes the Sarmatian boor driving his stridulous cart.

Hitherward, nevertheless, some keels

already are steering,

Scythian lands now?

And doth punishment now give me its place for a home?

Grant, ye gods, that Cæsar make this not my house and my homestead, But decree it to be only the inn of my pain.

will be.

LADES.

FROM THE FRENCH OF MÉRY. FROM this high portal, where upsprings The rose to touch our hands in play, The Sea, the Town, and the Highway. We at a glance behold three things,

And the Sea says: My shipwrecks fear; I drown my best friends in the deep ; And those who braved my tempests, here Among my sea-weeds lie asleep!

The Town says: I am filled and fraught
With tumult and with smoke and care;
My days with toil are overwrought,
And in my nights I gasp for air.

The Highway says: My wheel-tracks guide

To the pale climates of the North;
Where my last milestone stands abide
The people to their death gone forth.

Here, in the shade, this life of ours,
Full of delicious air, glides by
Amid a multitude of flowers

As countless as the stars on high;

These red-tiled roofs, this fruitful soil,
Bathed with an azure all divine,
Where springs the tree that gives us oil,
The grape that giveth us the wine;

Beneath these mountains stripped of trees,
Whose tops with flowers are covered o'er,
Where springtime of the Hesperides
Begins, but endeth nevermore;

Under these leafy vaults and walls,
That unto gentle sleep persuade;
This rainbow of the waterfalls,
Of mingled mist and sunshine made;

Upon these shores, where all invites,
We live our languid life apart;
This air is that of life's delights,
The festival of sense and heart;

This limpid space of time prolong,
Forget to-morrow in to-day,
And leave unto the passing throng
The Sea, the Town, and the Highway.

You I perceive, ye meadows green,
Where the Garonne the lowland fills,
Not far from that long chain of hills,
With intermingled vales between.

Yon wreath of smoke, that mounts so
high,
Methinks from my own hearth must come ;
With speed, to that beloved home,
Fly, ye too lazy coursers, fly!

And bear me thither, where the soul
In quiet may itself possess,

Where all things soothe the mind's dis

tress,

Where all things teach me and console.

FORSAKEN.

FROM THE GERMAN.

SOMETHING the heart must have to cherish,

Must love and joy and sorrow learn, Something with passion clasp, or perish, And in itself to ashes burn.

So to this child my heart is clinging, And its frank eyes, with look intense, Me from a world of sin are bringing

Back to a world of innocence.

Disdain must thou endure forever; Strong may thy heart in danger be! Thou shalt not fail! but ah, be never. False as thy father was to me.

Never will I forsake thee, faithless,

And thou thy mother ne'er forsake, Until her lips are white and breathless, Until in death her eyes shall break.

desire;

Souls that have almost reached the other

shore

Of a diviner love should feel the darts, And be as tinder to a holier fire.

VI.

TO VITTORIA COLONNA. WHEN the prime mover of my many sighs Heaven took through death from out her earthly place,

Nature, that never made so fair a face, Remained ashamed, and tears were in all eyes.

O fate, unheeding my impassioned cries! O hopes fallacious! O thou spirit of grace,

Where art thou now? Earth holds in its embrace

Thy lovely limbs, thy holy thoughts the skies.

Vainly did cruel death attempt to stay The rumor of thy virtuous renown,

That Lethe's waters could not wash away!

A thousand leaves, since he hath stricken thee down,

Speak of thee, nor to thee could
Heaven convey,

Except through death, a refuge and a

crown.

V.

TO VITTORIA COLONNA.

VII. DANTE.

said;

By too great splendor is his name at

tended;

To blame is easier those who him offended,

Than reach the faintest glory round him shed.

This man descended to the doomed and dead

For our instruction; then to God ascended;

Heaven opened wide to him its portals splendid,

Who from his country's, closed against him, fled.

Ungrateful land! To its own prejudice