For wine is strong and hard to struggle with. Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills. CHORUS. Not there! he is a little there beyond you. CYCLOPS. Detested wretch! where are you? ULYSSES. Far from you I keep with care this body of Ulysses. CYCLOPS. What do you say? You proffer a new name. ULYSSES. My father named me so; and I have taken I should have done ill to have burned down Troy CYCLOPS. Ai! ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished; ULYSSES. I bid thee weep-consider what I say, CYCLOPS. Not so, if whelming you with this huge stone CHORUS. And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now, TRANSLATION FROM MOSCHUS. PAN loved his neighbour Echo-but that child The bright nymph Lyda,—and so three went weeping. As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr; The Satyr, Lyda-and thus love consumed them.And thus to each-which was a woful matter To bear what they inflicted, justice doomed them; For inasmuch as each might hate the lover, Each loving, so was hated.-Ye that love not Be warned-in thought turn this example over, That when ye love, the like return ye prove not. SCENES FROM THE "MAGICO PRODIGIOSO" OF CALDERON. CYPRIAN as a Student; CLARIN and MOSCON as poor Scholars, with books. CYPRIAN. In the sweet solitude of this calm place, This intricate wild wilderness of trees And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants, And whilst with glorious festival and song To its new shrine, I would consume what still Far from the throng and turmoil. Go and enjoy the festival; it will You, my friends, Be worth the labour, and return for me When the sun seeks its grave among the billows, I shall expect you. MOSCON. I cannot bring my mind, Great as my haste to see the festival Just saying some three or four hundred words. Of such festivity, you can bring your mind With three or four old books, and turn your back On all this mirth? CLARIN. My master's in the right; There is not any thing more tiresome Than a procession day, with troops of men, And dances, and all that. MOSCON. From first to last, Clarin, you are a temporizing flatterer; You praise not what you feel but what he does;Toadeater! CLARIN. You lie under a mistake For this is the most civil sort of lie That can be given to a man's face. I now Say what I think. CYPRIAN. Enough, you foolish fellows. Puffed up with your own doting ignorance, Now go, and as I said, return for me MOSCON. How happens it, although you can maintain |