her, the Venus so fair of the sea.
Of the spearman tremendous, the Mars of the fight,
Thunderbolt of old Greece, she was quickly made light,
Of Achilles divine, to whom Pyrrha an heir,
The boy Neoptolemus, gladly did bear,
The destroyer of Trojans, of Grecians the shield--
Thy protection to us, Neoptolemus yield!
Who blessed doth slumber in Pythia's green plain;
To accept this oblation of hymns from us deign,
And each peril drive far from our city benign.--
Of Thetis I sing with her locks of gold-shine.

THE GRAVE OF DEMOS.

From the Modern Greek.

Thus old Demos spoke, as sinking sought the sun the western wave:
Now, my brave lads, fetch us water, after supping let us lave;
O Lamprakes, O my nephew, down beside thy uncle sit--
When I'm gone, wear thou my trappings, and be captain, as is fit;
And do ye, my merry fellows, now my vacant sabre take,
And therewith green branches cutting, straight for me a pallet make;
Some one for the holy father, that I may confess me, run,
And that I to him may whisper all the crimes, in life I've done;
I've full thirty years as warrior, twenty five as robber pass'd;
Now I feel my end approaching, and I fain would breathe my last;
Me a tomb that's broad and lofty, O forget not to prepare,
For erect I'll stand within it, as in war, and weapons bear:
On the right side leave an opening, that the merry larks in spring,
Of its coming, welcome coming, may to me the tiding bring,
And for me in May's sweet season nightingales may sweetly sing.

THE SORCERIES OF CANIDIA.

From Horace.

(Canidia and other witches, having enticed a boy of high birth into some
secret cell, proceed to bury him in the earth, up to the chin; in order
that, when he has perished with hunger in that situation, his liver etc.
may serve as ingredients for a draught, by administering which Canidia
purposes to regain the affection of Varus, who has deserted her. The poem
commences with the entreaties of the boy, and concludes with the
imprecations which he utters when about to be abandoned to famine and
inhumation.)

"Father of Gods, who rul'st the sky,
The earth and all the heavenly race!
What means this noise, why savagely
On me is turn'd each frightful face?--
By thy dear babes, if aid e'er lent
Lucine to thee in child-birth hour,
By this proud purple ornament,
By hands ne'er clasp'd to crave before,
I beg thee, Dame! thou wilt declare
Why she-wolf like thou me dost eye."
Stript of his te