"Ye Gods, whom Destiny hath made (MAY, 1822.) THE HOOPOE'S INVOCATION TO THE NIGHTINGALE. (From the Birds of ARISTOPHANES, 1. 209.) WAKEN, dear one, from thy slumbers; Mourning from this leafy shrine. Of a mother's agony', Echo, ere the murmurs fade, Bears them from the yew-tree's shade To the throne of Jove; and there, Peals from the immortal throng. (SEPTEMBER, 1826.) FROM LUCRETIUS, Bk. ii. 1. 1–33. Он, sweet it is to listen on the shore When the wild tempest mocks the seaboy's cry; And sweet to mark the tumult and the roar When distant battle stalks in thunder by: Is happiness to us!-oh, rather deem That the mind loves, in its own fantasy, To wield the weapons and to scream the scream, And then to wake from death, and feel it was a dream. But naught is sweeter than to hold our state, Oh, wretched souls! oh, weak and wasted breath, If the free spirits innocently play, Say, wilt thou seek for more? vain mortal, no! What more can Dust demand, or Destiny bestow ? Yet Nature hath more blessings, her own joys, O'er the thronged banquet fling the torches' glare, No burnished silver gleams along the hall To wreathe the sweetness of its magic thrall O'er listening ears, rapt hearts, at some high festival;- Yet Nature's fondest sons and fairest daughters What do they reck beneath their tranquil bowers Of guilt or grief ?--then happiest, when the sky Laughs in the glad spring-dawning, and the hours Dress every hill and vale in herbs and odorous flowers! (1826.) STANS PEDE IN UNO. καὶ νῦν ἐν ̓Αρεί μαρτυρήσαι κεν πόλις Αί αντος ὀρθωθεῖσα ναύταις ἐν πολυφθόρῳ Σαλάμις Διὸς ὄμβρῳ. PINDAR, Isth. v. 61. NOVENA Pindi turba, licet Jovis Per vacuum taceant Olympum, At usque clivo vos Heliconio Vos dominæ dominæque vatum Audite! Nymphæ Pierides, quibus Vos a quietis vos mihi montibus Adeste, Nymphæ! ferte per inclytas Urbes, et antiqua sacratos Relligione domos; juvabit |