SAPPHICS. 103 



f rintslakl^ Sapfeits, 



I. — Otiuai Divos. 



QuiKT he prays for, on the vast ^gean, 

 When by black storm clouds the fair moon is hidden, 

 And the bright stars, those certain guides to seamen, 



Cease from their shining. 



Quiet, the Thracian, furious in warfare : 

 Quiet, the Mede, so graceful with his quiver : 

 Grosphus ! with jewels, purple, nor with riches 



Can it be paid for. 



For neither treasures nor the Consul's lictor 

 Remove the spirit's miserable tumult, 

 Nor yet the troubles that so often flutter 



Round gilded ceilings. 



He may live well with little, whose paternal 

 Saltcellar shines upon his slender table ; 

 Terror nor filthy avarice can mar his 



Peaceable slumbers. 



