These brood with sleepless gaze o'er buried gold,
The rostrum these with raptured trance behold,
Or wonder when repeated plaudits raise
'Mid peopled theatres the shout of praise:
These with grim joy, by civil discord led,
And stain'd in battles where a brother bled,
From their sweet household hearth in exile roam,
And seek beneath new suns a foreign home.
The peasant yearly ploughs his native soil;
The lands that bless'd his fathers bound his toil,
Sustain his herd, his country's wealth increase,
And see his children's children sport in peace.
Each change of seasons leads new plenty round;
Now lambs and kids along the meadow bound,
Now every furrow loads with corn the plain,
Fruits bend the bough, and garners burst with
grain;

Or where with purple hues the upland glows,
Autumnal suns on mellowing grapes repose.
His swine return at winter's evening hours,
Gorged with the mast that every forest showers:
For him the arbute reddens on the wood,

And mills press forth the olive's gushing flood; Chaste love his household guards, and round his knees

Fond infants climb the foremost kiss to seize;
Kine from their gushing udders nectar shed,
And wanton kids high toss their butting head.
He too, at times, where flames the rustic shrine,
And, ranged around, his gay compeers recline,
In grateful leisure on some festive day

Stretch'd on the turf delights his limbs to lay,
To loose from care his disencumber'd soul,
And hail thee, Bacchus! o'er the circling bowl:

Or on the elm the javelin's mark suspend, Where for the prize his hardy hinds contend, Bare their huge bodies, and, untaught to yield, To wrestling toils provoke the challenged field.

SOTHEBY.

THE CORCYRIAN SWAIN.

FROM THE LATIN OF VIRGIL.

YES, I remember where Galæsus leads
His flood dark-winding through the golden meads,
Where proud Ebalia's towers o'erlook the plain,
Once I beheld an old Corcyrian swain;
Lord of a little spot, by all disdain'd,

Where never labouring yoke subsistence gain'd,
Where never shepherd gave his flock to feed,
Nor Bacchus dared to trust the' ungrateful mead;
He there with scanty herbs the bushes crown'd,
And planted lilies, vervain, poppies round;
Nor envied kings, when late, at twilight close,
Beneath his peaceful shed he sought repose,
And cull'd from earth, with changeful plenty stored,
The' unpurchased feasts that piled his varied board.
At springtide first he pluck'd the full-blown rose,
From autumn first the ripen'd apple chose;
And e'en when winter split the rocks with cold,
And chain'd the' o'erhanging torrent as it roll'd,
His blooming hyacinths, ne'er known to fail,
Shed sweets unborrow'd of the vernal gale,
As mid their rifled beds he wound his way,
Chid the slow sun and zephyr's long delay.
Hence first his bees new swarms unnumber'd gave,
And press'd from richest combs the golden wave:

Limes round his haunts diffused a grateful shade,
And verdant pines with many a cone array'd;
And every bud, that gemm'd the vernal spray,
Swell'd into fruit beneath the' autumnal ray;
He lofty elms transposed in order placed,
Luxuriant pears at will his alleys graced,
And grafted thorns that blushing plums display'd,
And planes that stretch'd o'er summer feasts their
shade.

SOTHEBY.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

FROM THE LATIN OF VIRGIL.

YET, not forgetful of his art, the god,
In wondrous change of monster, fire, and flood,
Strove to elude the' indissoluble yoke,

Then rose in human form, and sternly spoke-
'Rash youth! what frenzy urged thy impious feet
To rush unbidden on my lone retreat?" [returns,

'Proteus, thou know'st, thou know'st, the youth None can deceive thy power that all discerns; Cease the vain strife; by Heaven's high mandate I claim relief from thy prophetic aid.' [sway'd,

He said, and, fill'd with fate, the struggling sire Roll'd his green eyes that flash'd indignant fire; From his pale lip reluctant accents broke, And his teeth clatter'd as the godhead spoke.

'Great is thy guilt; on thy devoted head Indignant gods no common vengeance shed; Sad Orpheus, doom'd, without a crime, to mourn His ravish'd bride that never shall return,

Wild for her loss, calls down the' inflicted woes, And deadlier threatens, if no fate oppose.

When urged by thee along the marshy bed,
The' unhappy nymph in frantic terror fled,
She saw not, doom'd to die, across her way,
Where, couch'd beneath the grass, the serpent lay.
But every Dryad, their companion dead,

O'er the high rocks their echoed clamour spread,
The Rhodopeian mounts with sorrow rung,
Deep wailings burst Pangæa's cliffs among,
Sad Orithyia, and the Geta wept,

And loud lament down plaintive Hebrus swept.
He, lonely on his harp, 'mid wilds unknown,
Soothed his sad love with melancholy tone:
On thee, sweet bride! still dwelt the' undying lay,
Thee first at dawn deplored, 'thee last at close of day;
For thee he dared to pass the jaws of hell,
And gates where death and darkness ever dwell,
Trod with firm foot in horror's gloomy grove,
Approach'd the throne of subterraneous Jove,
Nor fear'd the manes and stern host below,
And hearts that never felt for human woe.
Drawn by his song from Erebus profound
Shades and unbodied phantoms flock around,
Countless as birds that fill the leafy bower
Beneath pale eve, or winter's driving shower.
Matrons and sires and unaffianced maids,
Forms of bold warriors and heroic shades,
Youths and palé infants laid upon the pyre,
While their fond parents saw the' ascending fire :
All whom the squalid reeds and sable mud
Of slow Cocytus' unrejoicing flood,

All whom the Stygian lake's dark confines bounds,
And with nine circles maze in maze surrounds.
On him astonish'd Death and Tartarus gazed,
Their viper hair the wondering Furies raised:

Grim Cerberus stood, his triple jaws half closed, And fix'd in air Ixion's wheel reposed.

'Now every peril o'er, when Orpheus led
His rescued prize in triumph from the dead,
And the fair bride, so Proserpine enjoin'd,
Press'd on his path, and follow'd close behind,
In sweet oblivious trance of amorous thought
The lover err'd, to sudden frenzy wrought.
Ah, venial fault! if hell had ever known
Mercy, or sense of suffering not its own.
He stopp'd, and ah! forgetful, weak of mind,
Cast as she reach'd the light one look behind.
There die his hopes; by love alone betray'd,
He broke the law that hell's stern tyrant made.
Thrice o'er the Stygian lake a hollow sound
Portentous murmur'd from its depth profound;
"Alas! what fates our hapless love divide,
What frenzy, Orpheus, tears thee from thy bride!
Again I sink; a voice resistless calls;

Lo! on my swimming eye cold slumber falls;
Now, now farewell! involved in thickest night,
Borne far away, I vanish from thy sight,
And stretch towards thee, all hope for ever o'er,
These unavailing arms; ah! thine no more."
She spoke, and from his gaze for ever fled,
Swift as dissolving smoke through ether spread;
Nor more beheld him, while he fondly strove
To catch her shade, and pour the plaints of love.
Deaf to his prayer, no more stern Charon gave
To cross the Stygian lake's forbidden wave.
What shall he do? Where dead to hope reside,
Reft of all joy, and doubly lost his bride?
What tears shall soothe the' inexorable god!
Pale swam her spirit to its last abode.