‘ 
[ 43} 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
HORACE—Book III. Ode 20. 
“TRANSLATED IN 
THE SAPPHIC MEASURE OF THE ORICINAL, 
TO PHYRRUS. 
Do not you see-—more perilous a combat 
Than of her young yon lioness to plunder, 
Waits ye? 
Full soon your arrogance, dismay’d, will 
Shaun the destruction. 
Thro’ the surrounding populace she rushes, 
Fierce to protect her elegant Nezra. 
Long is your conflict, difficult the toil that 
Yields her* to either. 
She, the meanwhile—your recompense and umpire— 
While ye send forth your javelins in combat, 
Rends the light-blooming coronal, and smiling 
Treads on the palm-branch ; 
Fans her soft ringlets, redolent of perfume, 
While the fresh breeze plays amorous around her, 
Fairer than wood-nymph, or the maid who smiles on 
Jove with the nectar. 
A.S. 
* The classical scholar will excuse—the English ear approve—the 
change of the pronoun here, and of the allusion in the last line-—Eait. 
PHENOMENA. 
Hast seen upon tlie mountain’s height, 
’ Where wintry snows were shining, 
A rose-bud in its lustre bright, 
As on a hed of pure delight, 
- With fragrant breath reclining ? 
‘€ Dull bard !—the mountain’s snowy height, 
' Were there the rose reclining, 
Would chill the breath, the lustre blight— 
Would quell the soul of gay delight, 
- On winter’s lap repining. 
But L have seen as strange a sight :— 
- On wintry lap reclining, 
A living rose, more sweet and bright, 
Breathe forth the soul of pure delight, 
Nor drooping, nor repining, 
It sheds around a cheering Tight, 
Bright as Aurora shining, 
The rear of darkness put to “fight, 
When Zephyrs with the Loves unite, 
‘The wreaths of Flora twining. 
The snows of age they are not cold, 
The wintry hour not glooming, 
Nor is the pulse of joy controll’d, 
Where sympathies of mind unfold, 
In Beauty’s bosom blooming. J.T. 
re CURELESS GRIEF. 
Tarn is a grief which never dies— 
A vulture preying on the heart ; 
Tn vain persuasive Reason tries, 
Nor soothes Religion’s balm the smart. 
*Tis poison at the gushing spring, 
‘That with the current must endure. 
Reflection bears the adder’s sting, 
_ And more inflames—hut cannot cure, 
Blue. Anchor Road. Ewan, 
TRANQUILLITY :— 
A RECOLLECTION OF MY FIRST APPROACH T0 
CROMAC WATER, CUMBERLAND, 
Tue sun was on the wain—in the mid course 
Between high noon and twilight—and o’er all 
That lovely region shed a placid beara 
Of mitigated splendour—suiting well 
Its pensive sequestration. Not a sound 
Of voice or concourse—nor the low of herd, 
Or bleat of grazing flock, was heard ar ound, 
Or tratnp of steed. The sheep-bell on the hills 
Was silent; and the very birds had ceas’d, 
On wing or spray, their loye-notes. All 
around— 
From earth and air and waters—there waa 
breath’d 
A spirit of unmix’d ceaaqung 
So still, that though no whisper of a breeze 
Disturb’d the pendent foliage, you mighthear 
The motion of the elements—a song 
Of silence, that dispos’d the listening soul 
To meditative quietness, and lull’d 
Not passions only, but the animal powers, 
And all their violent feelings: even the pulse 
Beat with a softer measure, and the breath 
With a more gentle efflux ebb’d and flow’d, 
With scarce perceptive impulse: so eutire 
Was the dominion of Tranquillity ! J.T 
EPIGRAM. 
To Ned, who late had lost his wife, 
The cross-grain’d partner of his life, 
Will, like true friend in need, appears, 
And bids hia dry grief’s fruitless teara; 
“* Por know,” he cries, * ’tis all in vain— 
You ne’er can fetch her back again.” 
Quoth Ned, “ Didst never hear, ™ lady 
' That folks can weep when ie ore glad? md 
age Gee 
G 2 
