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FROM THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

How use doth breed a habit in a man !
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns :
Here can
I sit alone, unseen of any,

And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ;

Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain !—
What halloing, and what stir is this to-day?

These are my

mates that make their wills their law,

Have some unhappy passenger in chase:

They love me well, yet I have much to do

To keep them from uncivil outrages.

THE SAME TRANSLATED.

Ὡς τὸ ξυνηθὲς ἐν βροτοῖς τίκτει νόμους· ὕλην ἔρημον τήνδε καὶ δρυμῶν σκιὰν ἐγώγε πόλεων μᾶλλον εὐάνδρων φιλῶ. ἐνταῦθ ̓ ἄποπτος ὀμμάτων ἡμαι μόνος, ἀηδόνος τε πενθίμῳ μελωδία ξύμφωνος ᾄδω κἀποδύρομαι πάθη ὦ τῆς ἐμῆς οἰκοῦσα καρδίας μυχοὺς, μὴ δαρὸν οὕτω δῶμ ̓ ἀοίκητον λίπῃς, μή πως ὄληται πρεμνόθεν σαθρὸν γεγώς, καὶ τοῦ πρὶν ὄντος πᾶν ἀϊστωθῇ τέκμαρ. ὦ πότνια, σῇ με κούφισον παρουσίᾳ, οἴκτειρ ̓ ἐραστὴν Σιλβία δυσδαίμονα. ἔα. τίνος βοῆς ἤκουσα καὶ ποδῶν κτύπον; ἀκόλαστος ὄχλος τῶν ἐμῶν ὀπαόνων ὁδοιπόρον τιν ̓ ἄθλιον διωκάθει.

εὖ τοι φιλοῦσί μ', ἀλλ ̓ ἐμοίγ ̓ οὐ ῥᾴδιον τούτων βιαίαν ἔστ' ἐρητύειν ὕβριν.

FROM MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.

Book VI.

So said, he, o'er his sceptre bowing, rose
From the right hand of Glory where he sat ;
And the third sacred morn began to shine,

Dawning through heaven. Forth rush'd with whirlwind sound

The chariot of Paternal Deity,

Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn,
Itself instinct with spirit, but convoy'd

By four Cherubic shapes; four faces each

Had wondrous; as with stars, their bodies all

And wings were set with eyes; with eyes the wheels

Of beryl, and careering fires between.

Over their heads a crystal firmament,

Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure

Amber, and colours of the showery arch.
He, in celestial panoply all arm'd
Of radiant Urim, work divinely wrought,
Ascended; at his right hand Victory

Sat eagle-wing'd; beside him hung his bow,
And quiver with three-bolted thunder stored;
And from about him fierce effusion roll'd

Of smoke, and bickering flame, and sparkles dire.

THE SAME TRANSLATED.

Dixit; et a dextrâ, nutans in sceptra, paternâ,
(Illi quæ sedes, quæ gloria summa,) resurgit.
Tertia jamque dies apparuit aurea cœlo
Exoriens: simul ingenti quasi turbinis exit
Cum sonitu Patris currus; quem vivida circum
Flamma micat, creberque rotarum volvitur axis
Orbibus impediens orbes; nec spiritus ipsi
Defuit; æthereæ tamen hunc traxere figuræ
Quatuor, aspectu miræ, quibus ora quaterna,
Et cujusque oculis distinctum et corpus et alæ
Sidereis ornant oculi spatia ampla rotarum
Beryllo similes, atque intercursitat ignis.
At supera caput impendens crystallinus æther
Sapphiro rutilum et puro tenet intertextum
Electro solium, pluviique coloribus arcûs.
Filius, effulgens Urimi præstantibus armis,
Tegmine divino, ascendit. Victoria dextrâ
Explicuit pennas, aquilæ surgentis ad instar;
Post humeros arcus pendet, trifidisque pharetra
Fulminibus gravis; at circum violentia fumi,
Nictans flamma volat scintillarumque procella.

FROM MILTON'S COMUS.

Comus. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus ? Lady. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth.

Comus. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf.

Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?

Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring.

Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady?

Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick

return.

Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.
Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit!

Comus. Imports their loss, besides the present need?
Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose.
Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips.
Comus. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox
In his loose traces from the furrow came,
And the swink'd hedger at his supper sat:
I saw them under a green mantling vine,
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots.

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