B "EXTREMUM TANAIN" (TO J. K.) EFORE thy doors too long of late, Not Don's barbarian maids, I trow, Hast thou nor eyes nor ears, Ingrate! Lay by thy pride,—nor hesitate, If prayers, if gifts for naught must go, "VIXI PUELLIS" WE loved of yore, in warfare bold, Nor laurelless. Now all must go; Let this left wall of Venus show The arms, the tuneless lyre of old. Here let them hang, the torches cold, But thou, who Cyprus sweet dost hold, And Memphis free from Thracian snow, Goddess and queen, with vengeful blow, Smite,-smite but once that pretty scold We loved of yore! "WHEN I SAW YOU LAST, ROSE" WHE HEN I saw you last, Rose, How fast the time goes! Like a bud ere it blows, Now your petals unclose, And a life,-how it grows! In your bosom it shows Is it Cupid? Who knows! "VIXI PUELLIS" WE loved of yore, in warfare bold, Nor laurelless. Now all must go; Let this left wall of Venus show The arms, the tuneless lyre of old. Here let them hang, the torches cold, But thou, who Cyprus sweet dost hold, And Memphis free from Thracian snow, Goddess and queen, with vengeful blow, Smite,-smite but once that pretty scold We loved of yore! FOR A COPY OF THEOCRITUS SINGER of the field and fold, THEOCRITUS! Pan's pipe was thine,- Thine was the happier Age of Gold. For thee the scent of new-turned mould, Thou sang'st the simple feasts of old,- Thou bad'st the rustic loves be told,- And round thee, ever-laughing, rolled Alas for us! Our songs are cold; |