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thoughts, and change misdoubt to resolution : be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art resign to death,-it is not worth the enjoying: let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man, and find no harbour in a royal heart. Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought on

thought; and not a thought but thinks on dignity. My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done, to send me packing with a host of men : I fear me, you but warm the starvéd snake, who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lack’d, and you will give them me: I take it kindly ; yet, be well assur'd you put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.





I no more : my prayers-my tears are vain :-

'Tis well ! obey the demon in your hearts !
fulfil your dread intent, and stain with blood
the holy altars of your household Gods ;-
these halls, that gave you birth, the stage where


Passages for Translation into Greek Trochaics 431
shall hold his festival of mutual carnage
beneath a mother's eye !-then foot to foot,
close, like the Theban pair, with maddening gripe,
and fold each other in a last embrace !
each press with vengeful thrust the dagger home,
and 'Victory!' be your shriek of death :-Nor then
shall discord rest appeased; the very flame
that lights your funeral pyre shall tower dissevered
in ruddy columns to the skies, and tell

with horrid image—thus they lived and died !' 1088C. Thou art my elder-speak-without dishonour

I yield to thee.

One gracious word, and instant,
my tongue is rival in the strife of love!
C. I am the guiltier—weaker-

Say not so !
who doubts thy noble heart, knows thee not well ;

thy words were prouder, if thy soul were mean. C. It burns indignant at the thought of wrong ;

but thou-methinks, in passion's fiercest mood,

'twas aught but scorn that harboured in thy breast. M. Oh, had I known thy spirit thus to peace

inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn

a mother's heart ! C.

I find thee just and true: men spoke thee proud of soul. M.

The curse of greatness ! ears ever open to the babbler's tale.

Thou art too proud to meanness—I to falsehood ! M. We were deceived, betrayed !

The sport of frenzy ! M. And said my mother true, false is the world ?

Believe her, false as air. M.

Give me thy hand! C. And thine be ever next my heart !

T. MARTIN from Schiller

ان دن دن دن

1089 A

S they heard her lamentation, in their troubled

anguish deep, wept the father, wept the mother, 'gan the daughter

too to weep; then the little son beheld them, and their doleful

moan he heard,

and with both his eyes wide open lisp'd he thus his

broken word : ‘Weep not, father, weep not, mother, oh my sister,

weep not so !' First to one and then to the other smiling went he

to and fro. Then a blade of spear-grass lifting, thus in bolder

glee he said : "With this spear-grass will I kill him, this man-eating

giant, dead. Though o’erpower'd by bitterest sorrow, as they heard

their prattling boy, stole into the parents' bosom mute and inexpressive







THITHER away? Oh, leave us not so soon.

Tell They look for me at home. So fare

ye well.

Sta. My heart's so full and has so much to tell you.
Tell Words will not make a heart that's heavy light.
Sta. Yet words may possibly conduct to deeds.
Tell All we can do is to endure in silence.
Sta. But shall we bear what is not to be borne ?
Tell Imperious rulers have the shortest reigns.

When the fierce southwind rises from his chasms,
men cover up their fires, the ships in haste
make for the harbour and the mighty spirit
sweeps o'er the earth, and leaves no trace behind.
Let every man live quietly at home;

peace to the peaceful rarely is denied.
Sta. And is it thus you view our grievances ?
Tell The serpent stings not till it is provoked.

Let them alone ; they'll weary of themselves,

whene'er they see we are not to be roused. Sta. Much might be done—did we stand fast together. Tell When the ship founders, he will best escape,

who seeks no other's safety but his own.
Sta. And you desert the common cause so coldly?
Tell A man can safely count but on himself.
Sta. Nay, even the weak grow strong by union.

Tell But the strong man is strongest when alone.
Sta. Your country, then, connot rely on you,

if in despair she rises 'gainst her foes. Tell Tell rescues the lost sheep from yawning gulfs ;

is he a man, then, to desert his friends?
Yet whatsoe'er you do, spare me from council :
I was not born to ponder and select;
but when your course of action is resolved,
then call on Tell ; you shall not find him fail.

T. MARTIN from Schiller



'HE cold in clime are cold in blood,

their love can scarce deserve the name;
but mine was like a lava flood
that boils in Ætna's breast of flame.
I cannot prate in puling strain
of ladye-love and beauty's chain:
if changing cheek, and scorching vein,
lips taught to writhe, but not complain ;
if daring deed, and vengeful stcel,
and all that I have felt and feel,
betoken love—that love was mine,
and shewn by many a bitter sign.
'Tis true, I could not whine, nor sigh,
I knew but to obtain or die.
I die--but first I have possessed ;
and, come what may, I have been blessed.





'OME hither, youth ; be thou to me a son,

to her a brother. Thus with trembling arms I lead you forth; children, we go to Rome. Weep'st thou, my girl? I prithee hoard thy tears for the sad meeting of thy captive mother : for we have much to tell her, much to say of these good men, who nurtured us in Mona : much of the fraud and malice that pursued us; much of her son, who poured his precious blood : F. S. III


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to save his sire and sister : think'st thou, maid,
her gentleness can hear the tale and live ?
and yet she must. Oh Gods, I grow a talker!
grief and old age are ever full of words:
but I'll be mute. Adieu ! ye holy men :
yet one look more-Now lead us hence for ever.




PEAK not of treaty, speak not of surrender!


The fortunes of the foe before the walls
of Orleans shall be wreck’d: his hour is come,
he now is ready for the reaper's hand,
and with her sickle will the maid appear,
and mow to earth the harvest of his pride.
She from the heavens will tear his glory down,
which he had hung aloft among the stars ;
despair not! fly not! for ere yonder corn
assumes its golden hue, or ere the moon
displays her perfect orb, no English horse
shall drink the rolling waters of the Loire.

A. SWANWICK from Schiller

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Mer. ND what of thine Arcadian mate, who bears

suspicion from thy grandsire of thy death, for whom, as I suppose, thou passest here? Æp. Sworn to our plot he is : but, that surmise

fix'd him the author of my death, I knew not. Mer. Proof, not surmise, shows him in commerce closeÆp. With this Messenian tyrant—that I know. Mer. And entertain'st thou, child, such dangerous friends? Æp. This commerce for my best behoof he plies. Mer. That thou may'st read thine enemy's counsel plain? Æp. Too dear his secret wiles have cost our house. Mer. And of his unsure agent what demands he? Æp. News of my business, pastime, temper, friends. Mer. His messages, then, point not to thy murder. Æp. Not yet ; though such, no doubt, his final aim. Mer. And what Arcadian helpers bring'st thou here?

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