Not for charms, the newest, brightest,

That on other cheeks may shine,
Would I change the least, the slightest,
That is ling'ring now o'er thine.

LXXIX.

Into ELEGIACS.

But say not that the course of life is waning, say not that hope has perished at the close of day. As long as you remain, as long as the light of love remains, life survives grateful to me in its horizon. Nor believe that your beauties have departed, taken away; although the roses in your countenance may wither and fall. Grace abides to female beauty imperishable; in thee, if all things perish, it will survive. What if a new, a bright loveliness shine forth; if another brow bear a surpassing honour. For my part I would not change these least, and lightest, which yet, fair one, cling to thy brow.

LXXX.

There will I build him

A monument, and plant it round with shade
Of laurel ever green, and branching palm,
With all his trophies hung, and acts inroll'd
In copious legend, or sweet lyric song.
Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,
And from his memory inflame their breasts
To matchless valour, and adventures high:
The virgins also shall, on feastful days,

Visit his tomb with flowers: only bewailing
His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice,
From whence captivity and loss of eyes.

Milton's Samson Agonistes.

LXXX.

Into HEXAMETERS.

To his name I will build the memorial of a glorious sepulchre, I will set around both the green laurels and the shade of palms; whence his many trophies shall hang, which he earned in the conflict of fearful war. Moreover, mindful annals shall tell, the modulations of song entrusted to the lyre shall sing his heroic deeds. Hither too the sturdier age of youth shall assemble, whom his surpassing honour shall stimulate to glorious exploits; and their vivid valour shall catch fresh ardour. On festivals, the chaste band of maidens shall adorn these ashes with flowers; this only complaint shall check their song, that thus unhappy in his wedded lot, he died both with blind eyes, and a slave.

LXXXI.

Might I, like the soaring dove,
Roam the aerial fields above,

Her, who, borne on tempest wings,
Forth with rustling pinion springs,
Sweet it were, from clouds on high,
Battle's changeful tide to spy.
Jove! whose everlasting sway,
Heaven's unchanging Gods obey,

Jove! before whose piercing eyes
Bare each thing created lies,
Let not, on the conflict plain,
Theseus spread his toils in vain ;
Grant to Athens' champions brave
Might to vanquish, strength to save.

Anstice.-Translation from Soph. Ed. Col.

LXXXI.

Into ALCAICS.

I

Oh if I could wander forth hence with the impulse of the swift dove, through the liquid air; and borne upon the tempest's wing, could speed my course through the expanse. am eager to visit among the heights of heaven, where the earth spread out lies beneath my feet, and I would look down upon the ebbing tide of war and the doubtful struggles. Thou, O Jupiter, who swayest the supreme ranks of the Gods by the laws of empire, who alone with keen gaze governest all things on earth subdued-let not Theseus take vain thought, let him not prepare fruitless snares against the enemy; may the power of Athens come forth avenging through the dangers of war.

LXXXII.

The bride is dead! The bride is dead!

Cold and frail and fair she lieth;

Wrapt is she in sullen lead;

And a flower is at her head;

And the breeze above her sigheth,
Thorough night and thorough day,
"Fled away! Fled away!"

The bride is gone alas, let us grieve; alas the bride (is) dead; in the tomb she lies frail, cold, (and) fair. A leaden robe wraps the limbs of the deceased; and the short-lived roses give flowery garlands for her head. The breezes bring sad sighs by night and by day—she is snatched away from us, alas! unembodied she is snatched away. Of old, but nothing can this avail, if of old she has borne towards all a soft heart in a faithful bosom. Fair, she was pale so as to surpass the Lilies themselves; and her modest cheeks blushed with roses; What if she shone forth more beauteous than all beauty? not the less has she been snatched away, and her grace has passed by. Mourn ye; the fairest one is departed; her lover sor

rows that her lovely form shall be laid in lead. Thus vainly he hopes, beguiled by a phantasy of the mind," To-morrow I will give re-iterated kisses to my darling." Yet what do the sad sighs of the breezes say? She is snatched away from you, alas! unembodied she is snatched away.

LXXXIII.

Time, flie with greater speed away,
Add feathers to thy wings,

Till thy haste in flying brings

That wisht for, and expected day.

Comfort's sun we then shall see,
Tho' at first it darken'd be,

With dangers, yet those clouds but gone

Our day will put his lustre on.

Then tho' death's sad night appear,

And we in lonely silence rest;
Our ravish'd souls no more shall fear,
But with lasting day be blest.

And then no friends can part us more,
Nor no new death extend its power;
Thus there's nothing can dissever
Hearts which love hath join'd together.

Cowley.