IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ELLEN. OH! might I kiss those eyes of fire, TRANSLATION FROM ANACREON. TO HIS LYRE. I WISH to tune my quivering lyre, To echo from its rising swell, How heroes fought, and nations fell; Fired with the hope of future fame, Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds; All, all in vain, my wayward lyre Wakes silver notes of soft desire. Adieu ! ye chiefs renown'd in arms! Adieu! the clang of war's alarms. To other deeds my soul is strung, And sweeter notes shall now be sung; My harp shall all its powers reveal, To tell the tale my heart must feel; Love, love alone, my lyre shall claim, In songs of bliss, and sighs of flame. ODE III. 'Twas now the hour, when Night had driven His Arctic charge around the Pole; "What stranger breaks my blest repos e ?" "Alas!" replies the wily child, In faultering accents, sweetly mild; I heard his seeming artless tale, His glossy curls, his azure wing, heart ;) Which droop with nightly showers, I wring; His shivering limbs the embers warm, And now, reviving from the storm, Scarce had he felt his wonted glow, Than swift he seized his slender bow : "I fain would know, my gentle host," He cried, "if this its strength has lost; "I fear, relax'd with midnight dews, "The strings their former aid refuse : With poison tipt, his arrow flies, Deep in my tortured heart it lies: Then loud the joyous urchin laugh'd, "My bow can still impel the shaft ; " 'Tis firmly fix'd, thy sighs reveal it ; "Say, courteous host, canst thou not feel it?" FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES, FROM THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF ESCHYLUS. GREAT Jove! to whose Almighty throne In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; My voice shall raise no impious strain 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main. How different now thy joyless fate, Since first Hesione thy bride, When placed aloft in godlike state, |