pinion.

Among his unpublished translations there is one, from a fragment of
Euripides, which should not be lost, if only because Lord Cromer himself
liked it better than any other of his versions. It runs:--

"I learn what may be taught;
I seek what may be sought;
My other wants I dare
To ask from Heaven in prayer."

Of his satirical _vers-de-societe_, which it amused him to distribute in
private, he never, I believe, gave any to the world, but they deserve
preservation. Some serious reflections on the advantages of the British
occupation of Egypt close with the quotation:--

"Let them suffice for Britain's need--
No nobler prize was ever won--
The blessings of a people freed,
The consciousness of duty done."

These were, in a high degree, the rewards of Lord Cromer himself.

After his settlement in London, Mr. T.E. Page sent him a book, called
_Between Whiles_, of English verse translated into Latin and Greek. Lord
Cromer was delighted with this, and the desire to write in metre
returned to him. He used to send his friends, in letters, little
triolets and epigrams, generally in English, but sometimes in Greek. But
he was more ambitious than this. So lately as February 1911, during the
course of one of our long conversations upon literature, he asked me to
suggest a task of translation on which he could engage. It was just the
moment when he was particularly busy with Constitutional Free Trade and
Woman Suffrage and other public topics, but that made no difference. It
had always seemed to me that he had been most happy in his versions of
the Bucolic poets, and so I urged him to continue his translations by
attempting the _Europa_ of Moschus. He looked at it, and pronounced it
unattractive. I was therefore not a little surprised to receive a
letter, on March 25th, in which he said:--

"Not sleeping very well last night, I composed in my head these few
lines merely as a specimen to begin _Europa_:--

"When dawn is nigh, at the third watch of night,
What time, more sweet than honey of the bee,
Sleep courses through the brain some vision bright,
To lift the veil which hides futurity,
Fair Cypris sent a fearful dream to mar
The slumbers of a maid whose frightened eyes
Pictured the direful clash of horrid war,
And she, Europa, was the victor's prize."

"They are, of course, only a first att