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And the glad labourer triumphs that his feet

In triple dance have struck the hated ground.

Original of the foregoing.

Faune, Nympharum fugientum amator,

Per meos fines et aprica rura

Lenis incedas, abeasque parvis
Equus alumnis ;

Si tener pleno cadit hædus anno,
Largo nec desunt, Veneris sodali,

Vina crateræ, vetus ara multo

Fumat odore.

Ludit herboso pecus omne campo,

Cum tibi Nonæ redeunt Decembres :

Festus in pratis vacat otioso

Cum bove pagus:

Inter audaces lupus errat agnos :

Spargit agrestes tibi silva frondes ;

Gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor
Ter pede terram.

IN IMITATION OF PART OF ODE III. BOOK II.*

Bring, bring odours to the embowering shade
Where the tall pine and poplar blend on high;
Bring roses, exquisite, but soon to fade,

Snatch every

brief delight, for thou must die ;

Must bid thy groves farewell, thy stately dome,

Thy fair retreat on yellow Tyber's shore,

Whilst other inmates revel in thy home

And claim thy piles of wealth; thine own no more

He who relents not, dooms thee soon to tread

The shore whence none return-the country of the dead.

* Originally introduced in the "Last Constantine.”

ON THE HEBE OF CANOVA.

From the Italian of PINDemonte.

WHITHER, celestial maid, so fast away?
What lures thee from the banquet of the skies?
How canst thou leave thy native realms of day,
For this low sphere, this vale of clouds and sighs?
-O thou, Canova! soaring high above
Italian art,—with Grecian magic vying!

We knew thy marble glowed with life and love,
But who had seen thee image footsteps flying?
-Here to each eye the wind seems gently playing
With the light vest, its wavy folds arraying

In many a line of undulating grace;

While nature, ne'er her mighty laws suspending, Stands, before marble thus with motion blending, One moment lost in thought, its hidden cause to trace.

From the Italian of FILICAYA.

Italia, oh! Italia! thou, so graced

With ill-starred beauty, which to thee hath been
A dower, whose fatal splendour may be traced

In the deep graven sorrows of thy mien ;

Oh! that more strength, or fewer charms were thine!
That those might fear thee more, or love thee less,
Who seem to worship at thy radiant shrine,
Then pierce thee with the death-pang's bitterness!
Not then would foreign hosts have drained the tide
Of that Eridanus thy blood hath dyed;

Nor from the Alps would legions, still renewed,

Pour down; nor wouldst thou wield an alien brand, And fight thy battles with the stranger's hand,

Still, still a slave, victorious or subdued!

ODE ON THE DEFEAT OF

KING SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL, AND

HIS ARMY, IN AFRICA.

Translated from the Spanish of HERRERA.

FERDINAND DE HERRERA, surnamed the Divine, was a Spanish Poet, who lived in the reign of Charles V., and is still considered by the Castilians as one of their classic writers. He aimed at the introduction of a new style into Spanish Poetry, and his lyrics are distinguished by the sustained majesty of their language, the frequent recurrence of expressions and images, derived apparently from a fervent study of the prophetic books of Scripture, and the lofty tone of national pride maintained throughout, and justified indeed by the nature of the subjects to which some of these productions are devoted. This last cha

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