tion of J.W. Mackail.

WORSHIP IN SPRING

THEAETETUS (Fourth Century B. C.)

Now at her fruitful birth-tide the fair green field flowers out in
blowing roses; now on the boughs of the colonnaded cypresses the cicala,
mad with music, lulls the binder of sheaves; and the careful mother
swallow, having finished houses under the eaves, gives harborage to her
brood in the mud-plastered cells; and the sea slumbers, with
zephyr-wooing calm spread clear over the broad ship-tracks, not breaking
in squalls on the stemposts, not vomiting foam upon the beaches. O
sailor, burn by the altars the glittering round of a mullet, or a
cuttle-fish, or a vocal scarus, to Priapus, ruler of ocean and giver of
anchorage; and so go fearlessly on thy seafaring to the bounds of the
Ionian Sea.

Translation of J.W. Mackail.

SPRING ON THE COAST

LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM (Third Century B. C.)

Now is the season of sailing; for already the chattering swallow is
come, and the gracious west wind; the meadows flower, and the sea,
tossed up with waves and rough blasts, has sunk to silence. Weigh thine
anchors and unloose thine hawsers, O mariner, and sail with all thy
canvas set: this I, Priapus of the harbor, bid thee, O man, that thou
mayest set forth to all thy trafficking.

Translation of J.W. Mackail.

A YOUNG HERO'S EPITAPH.

DIOSCORIDES (Third Century B. C.)

Home to Petana comes Thrasybulus lifeless on his shield, seven Argive
wounds before. His bleeding boy the father Tynnichos lays on the pyre,
to say:--"Let your wounds weep. Tearless I bury you, my boy--mine and my
country's."

Translation of Talcott Williams.

LOVE

POSIDIPPUS (Third Century B. C.)

Jar of Athens, drip the dewy juice of wine, drip, let the feast to which
all bring their share be wetted as with dew; be silenced the swan-sage
Zeno, and the Muse of Cleanthes, and let bitter-sweet Love be our
concern.

Translation of J.W. Mackail.

SORROW'S BARREN GRAVE

HERACLEITUS (Third Century B. C.)

Keep off, keep off thy hand, O husbandman,
Nor through this grave's calm dust thy plowshare drive;
These very sods have once been mourned upon,
And on such ground no crop will ever thrive,
Nor corn spring up with green and feathery ears,
From earth that has been watered by such tears.