Rejoice in joyous things-nor overmuch
Let grief thy bosom touch

'Midst evil, and still bear in mind,

How changeful are the ways of human-kind.'

'Committing wrong, the chance may be
That you elude men's eyes;
You never can elude the gods,
When wrong you e'en devise.'

'Father of flatterers, gold; of pain and care begot,
A fear it is to have thee, and a pain to have thee not.'
'Swift kindnesses are best; a long delay

In kindness, takes the kindness all away.'

'I'll tell the names and sayings, and the places of their birth,
Of the seven great ancient sages, so renowned on Grecian earth;
The Lindian Cleobulus said "The mean was still the best;"
The Spartan Chilo" Know thyself," a heaven-born phrase confessed;
Corinthian Periander taught—“Our anger to command;"
"Too much of nothing"-Pittacus from Mytelene's strand;
Athenian Solon this advised-"Look to the end of life;"
And Bias from Priené showed-" Bad men are the most rife;"
Milesian Thales urged that" None should ere a surety be;"
Few were their words, but, if you look, you'll much in little see.'

The fifth in order are those of a 'Literary' and 'Artistic' character:

'Seven cities vied for Homer's birth, with emulation pious, Salamis, Samos, Colophon, Rhodes, Argos, Athens, Chios.'

THE LYRIC POETS.

'Pindar from Thebes gave forth a mighty shout;
Simonides melodious lays breathed out;

Stesichorus and Ibycus shone bright;

Alcman, Bacchylides gave soft delight;

Persuasion dwelt on gay Anacreon's tongue;
Alcæus to Æolia nobly sung.

Sappho would make a ninth, but fitter she,

Among the Muses a tenth Muse to be.'

'These god-tongued women were with song supplied
From Helicon to steep Pieria's side;

Prexilla, Myro, Anyte's grand voice,

The female Homer; Sappho, pride and choice

Of Lesbian dames, whose locks have earned a name;
Erinna, Telesilla known to fame;

And thou, Corinna, whose bright numbers yield
A vivid image of Athene's shield.

Soft-sounding Nossis, Myrtis of sweet song,
Work-women all, whose books will last full long.'

'Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade
Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid.
Sweet ivy, lend thine aid, and intertwine
With blushing roses, and the clustering vine.
Thus shall thy lasting leaves, with beauties hung,
Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung.'

'Either Jove came to earth to show his form to thee,
Phidias, or thou to heaven hast gone the god to see.'

'Nemesis checks, with cubit-rule and bridle,
Immoderate deeds, and boastings rash and idle.'

THE LABOURS OF HERCUles.

'The Nemean monster, and the hydra dire
I quelled; the bull, the boar, I saw expire
Under my hands; I seized the queenly zone,
And Diomede's fierce steeds I made my own.
I plucked the golden apples; Geryon slew ;
And what I could achieve Augéas knew;

The hind I caught; the vile birds ceased their flight;
Cerberus I upwards dragged, and gained Olympus' height.'

'Wisely the artist has the end concealed,
Lest admiration should to horror yield.'

'Thymareté, thy very self is there,

Pictured in all thy dignity and grace;
Thy noble pride, thine all-commanding air,
Mingled with mildness in that lovely face;
Shaking his tail, thy faithful dog draws near,
Deeming he gazes on his mistress dear.'

'This satyr was not carved, but laid asleep;
Nudge him, he'll wake in wrath; so, quiet keep.'

'Me the gods turned to stone, but turned in vain,
Praxiteles has made me live again.'

'Witty and Satirical' is the title of the sixth division:

'Cadmus am I, then grudge me not the boast that though I am a Phoenician born, I taught you Greeks your Alpha, Beta, Gamma.'

'Yes, you may dye your hair, but not your age,
Nor smooth, alas, the wrinkles of your face;
Yes, you may varnish o'er the tell-tale page,
And wear a mask for every vanished grace.
But there's an end; no Hecuba, by aid
Of rouge and cerouse, is a Helen made.'

'Of all life's plagues I recommend to no man
To hire as a domestic a deaf woman.

I've got one who my orders does not hear,
Mishears them rather, and keeps blundering near.
Thirsty and hot, I asked her for a drink;

She bustled out, and brought me back some ink.
Eating a good rump-steak, I called for mustard;
Away she went, and whipped me up a custard.
I can't my voice raise higher and still higher,
As if I were a herald or town-crier.

'Twould better be if she were deaf outright;
But anyhow, she quits my house this night.'

'A blockhead bit by fleas put out the light,
And chuckling cried, now you can't see to bite.'
'Asclepiades, the miser, in his house,

Espied one day, with some surprise a mouse;
Tell me, dear mouse, he cried, to what cause is it
I owe this pleasant but unlooked-for visit?
The mouse said, smiling, fear not for your hoard,
I come, my friend, to lodge, and not to board.'

'A viper bit a Capadocian's hide;

But 'twas the viper, not the man, that died.'

The contents of the seventh and last division are of a miscellaneous kind :—

'Deficient one in limbs, and one in eyes,

Each with the other's help his want supplies;
The blind man lifts the lame man on his back,
And by the other's words directs his track.
Wholesome necessity this lesson taught,-
By mutual pity, mutual aid was brought.'

"The Bird of Phoebus, parched with thirst's dire pain,
A housewife's pitcher spied, for catching rain;
He perched, loud croaking, on the brim, but no—
Too short his beak, the water much too low.
Thy power then, Phoebus, in the bird inspired
An artifice to gain what he desired;
With gathered pebbles quickly to the brink
He raised the water's level, and could drink.'

'My gallant ship now nears my native shore ;
To-morrow and her stormy course is o'er.
To-morrow when my lips these words had said,
A sea like hades, raving o'er my head,
Engulfed me; and destruction round me clung,
For this vain vaunting of a froward tongue.
Say not to-morrow; the tongue's slightest slip,
Nemesis watches, ere it pass the lip.'

'The old draught-ox, worn in the furrowed field,
Alcon to ruthless slaughter would not yield,
His toils revering; in deep pasture now
He lows, and feels his freedom from the plough.'

A roadside nut-tree planted, here I stand
A mark for every passing schoolboy's hand;
My boughs and flourishing twigs all broke or bent,
Wounded by many a missile at me sent.

What boots it now that trees should fruitful be?
My very fruit brings this disgrace on me.'

"Fortune and hope farewell, I've gained the port;
You've fooled me long-make others now your sport.'

All the foregoing extracts are from Lord Neaves' collection.

PLAUTUS.

DIED B.C. 184.

HE Roman drama, more than any other branch of their literature, was an inheritance from Greece.

The plays, however, which, during a period of five hundred years, amused a Roman audience, possessed neither the brilliant burlesque, the keen satire, the wealth of allusion, nor the extravagant wit of Aristophanes. The oligarchy at Rome would not permit the freedom of speech on the stage which delighted the democracy at Athens. The dramatists of those days were disciples of Menander, and drew their characters from such general types of human nature as would offend no one with the idea that his own private weaknesses were being ridiculed or attacked; and of such comedies those of Plautus and Terence are all that have come down to us.

Menander was born at Athens B.C. 342, and won his first prize as a comic writer when he had barely attained manhood. Fragments only of his plays have been preserved, but their teaching is expressed in the following lines :—

'Being a mortal, ask not of the gods

Escape from suffering; ask but to endure;
For if thou seekest to be ever free

From pain and evil, then thou seekest this,—
To be a god, or die.'

Collins.

They appear to have contained very little of broad fun or comic situations; but he had carefully studied the various

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