But they, by these prevailing voices now
Lured, evermore draw nearer to the land,
Nor saw the wrecks of many a goodly prow,
That strewed that fatal strand;

Or seeing, feared not-warning taking none
From the plain doom of all who went before,
Whose bones lay bleaching in the wind and sun,
And whitened all the shore.

R. C. TRENCH.

Atqui propinquant jam magis ac magis,

Ducti magistra voce, solum : neque

Videre prorarum nefandas

Fragmina nobilium per oras;

Vidisse seu non pœnitet-ominis

Incuriosos tot præëuntium,

Quorum ossa sol siccantque venti,

Candet adhuc quibus omnis ora.

CENONE.

O MOTHER, hear me yet before I die.
Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone,
Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me
Walking the cold and starless road of Death
Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love
With the Greek woman. I will rise and go
Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth
Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says
A fire dances before her, and a sound
Rings ever in her ears of armed men.
What this may be I know not, but I know
That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day,
All earth and air seem only burning fire.

TENNYSON.

"longam incomitata videtur

Ire viam."

QUAS moriens loquor, Ida parens, en accipe voces: Accipe tu, tellus. Non ibo sola sub umbras; Fortunatorum risus ne verberet aurem,

Dum caligantes campos, jam frigida, Leti,
Jam nullo comitante, tero, priscumque maritum
Pellex Graia tenet. Quin ibo ac Dorica castra

Deveniam necdum surgentibus adloquar astris

:

Amentem Cassandram animi. Nam lumina coram

Scintillare refert ignes, et murmur ad aurem
Tanquam armatorum nunquam cessare rotari.
Quæ quid monstra ferant, non auguror: id mihi
demum

Nosse satis: quocunque feror noctuque dieque,

Igni stare mero tellusque videtur et aer.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

OUR bugles sang truce, for the night clouds had lowered,

And the sentinel stars kept a watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track:
"Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on my way
To the home of my father, that welcomed me

back.