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Say not, the struggle nought availeth,

The labour and the wounds are vain ; The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars ;

It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,

And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,

Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, thro' creeks and inlets making,

Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,

But westward, look, the land is bright.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. IDEM LATINE.

Ne timide hos questus Nil prosunt,' finge, 'labores ;

Vanam operam passi, volnera vana, sumus: Num desunt vires hosti, num deficit ardor ?

Iam fortuna eadem quae fuit ante manet.' Falsae ut spes quondam sic nunc fortasse timores,

Atque, ubi non campum, nube tegente, vides, Vestri ibi nunc hostem pellunt fortasse fugacem,

Tuque modo haud absis, prospera bella gerant. Aequoris hic fessi nonne est labor inritus omnis ?

Vix prorsum gressus ferre videntur aquae ;
At procul inrepunt freta per secreta sinusque,

Fluctibus et tacitis litora cuncta tenent.
Nec, reor, ad caelum qui stat conversus Eoum,

Uni huic apparet, sole oriente, iubar :
Si nimis ante oculos tardo pede surgit Apollo,
Hesperia en claro lumine terra nitet.

M. LI. DAVIES. FIDELE.

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must

All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan : All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

SHAKESPEARE. IDEM LATINE.

Ne radios posthac ardentes solis iniqui,

Neve iras hiemis, frigora saeva, time. Taedia jam vitae cedunt actique labores,

Iamque reportasti praemia parta domum.
In cineres una suppressae morte redibunt

Indiga paupertas divitiaeque simul.
Neu voltus quatiant instantis corda tyranni —

Nunc in te regum verbera nulla valent.
Neu te sollicitet vestitus cura cibive-

Nil tibi iam quercus, tenuis arena nihil.
Heu doctos medicosque simul regesque superbos

In cineres tandem fata suprema ferent.
Ne rutuli posthac ardentes fulguris ignes

Neu tu tela Iovis, fulmina dira, time.
Neu caecam invidiam neu crimina ficta verere :

Gaudia cum gemitu praeteriere tibi.
Sic omnes, quos urit amor, tibi iungere fatumst

Foedera et in cineres quemque redire suos.

H. BRINTOX.

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