Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,

An equal love may see;

The tear, that from thine eyelid streams,

Can weep no change in me.

I ask no pledge to make me blest
In gazing when alone,

Nor one memorial for a breast,

Whose thoughts are all thine own.

Nor need I write; to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak;
Oh! what can idle words avail,

Unless the heart could speak?

By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart, no longer free,

Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent ache for thee.

Abitura vultu me benigno conspicis

Amans amantem non minus ;

Caditque ocello lachryma; sed nunquam, fides Quod nostra mutetur, cadet.

Haud pignus ullum, cujus aspectu fruar

Te solus amissâ, rogo:

Haud quærit anima nostra monumentum tui, Quæ tota de te cogitat.

Scriptisne tecum vis loquamur literis?

At calamus impotens foret.

Nam verba quid me juverint inania,

Ni possit ipsum cor loqui?

Necesse, fato quicquid accidat novi,

Noctes diesque cor meum

Lugere, amorem dum silentio premat,

Frustraque te desideret.

PSALM CXXXVII.

1. By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, when we remembered thee, O Sion.

2. As for our harps, we hanged them up, upon the trees that are therein.

3. For they that led us away captive required of us then a song, and melody, in our heaviness: Sing us one of the songs of Sion.

4. How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?

5. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.

6. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; yea, if I prefer not Jerusalem in my mirth.

7. Remember the children of Edom, O Lord, in the day of Jerusalem, how they said, Down with it, down with it, even to the ground.

8. O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery; yea, happy shall he be that rewardeth thee, as thou hast served us.

9. Blessed be he that taketh thy children, and throweth them against the stones.

THE SAME TRANSLATED.

Βαβυλῶνος ἐν βήσσαισι ναμάτων πέλας

κλαίοντες ἑζόμεσθα, σου φίλη Σίων μεμνημένοι· λύραι δὲ πλησίων ἀπὸ

δενδρῶν ἐκρήμναντ ̓· οἱ δ ̓ ἑλόντες ἤθελον μέλποντας ἡμᾶς δουλίῳ περ ἐν ζυγῷ

βαρέας ἀκοῦσαι· “Τῶν Σίωνος ᾄδετε μολπών τιν,” εἶπον· ἀλλὰ πῶς τολμῷμεν ἂν ᾆσαι μέλος τὸ θεῖον ἐν ξένῃ χθονί;

εἰ γὰρ λαθοίμην πάτρις ὦ φίλη σέθεν,

ἡ δεξιὰ λάθοιτο τῶν αὑτῆς τεχνῶν·

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καὶ γλῶσσ ̓ ἐπ ἄκρῳ στόματι προσκολλῷτό μοι, εἴ πού τι χάρμα τὸν σὸν ἐξέλοι πόθον ἀλλ ̓ ὦ Θεὸς μέμνησ ̓ Ἰδυμαῖον λεων, ὡς εἶπον ἡμῶν εἰς πόλιν, “ Πορθεῖτέ νιν, πανώλεθρον πορθεῖτε.” καὶ σύ που φθινες νόσοισι, Βαβυλὼν, καὶ μάλ ̓ εὐδαίμων ἔφυ, ὃς τῶν τόθ' ἡμᾶς τίσεταί σ ̓ εἰργασμένων, ἢ καὶ σὰ ῥίψας τέκνα προσκρούσει πέτραις.

FROM MOORE.

"Tis the last rose of summer

Left blooming alone,

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,

No rosebud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes

Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on the stem;

Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go sleep thou with them;

Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed,

Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.