Besides an awful vision of the night,

Scaring my sleep, hath filled me with affright,
And much I fear, when I my dream recall,

Lest some untoward thing my sons befall.
Methought, aside his cloak and tunic laid
My Hercules with both hands grasped a spade,
And round a cultured field a mighty dyke
He delved, as one that toils for hire belike.
But when the dyke around the vineyard run,
And he was just about (his task now done,
The shovel thrown on the projecting rim,)
With his attire again to cover him ;

Sudden above the bank a fire burst out,

Whose greedy flames enclosed him round about.
He to the flames with rapid flight did yield,
Holding the spade before him as a shield,
And here and there he turned his anxious eye,
If he might shun his scorching enemy.
High-souled Iphicles, I remember well

As it me-seemed, rushing to help him, fell;
Nor could he raise himself from where he rolled,
Bnt helpless lay there like some weak man old,
Tript up by joyless age against his will;

Stretched on the ground he was, and seeming still
Hopless of rising, till a passer-by

In pity raised the hoar infirmity.

Thus helpless lay the warrior brave in fight;
And I did weep to see that sorry sight-

This son stretched feeble, that engirt with flame,
Till sleep forsook me and the day-dawn came.
Such frightful visions on my sleep did fall;
Ye gods! On curst Eurystheus turn them all!
Oh be this presage true my wish supplies,
And may no god ordain it otherwise !'

IDYL V

THE CHOICE.

WHEN on the wave the breeze soft kisses flings,
I rouse my fearful heart and long to be
Floating at leisure on the tranquil sea;
But when the hoary ocean loudly rings,
Arches his foamy back and spooming swings
Wave upon wave, his angry swell I flee.
Then welcome land and sylvan shade to me,
Where, if a gale blows, still the pine-tree sings.

Hard is his life whose nets the ocean sweep,
A bark his house-shy fish his slippery prey;

But sweet to me the unsuspicious sleep

Beneath a leafy plane the fountain's play, That babbles idly, or whose tones if deep

Delight the rural ear and not affray.

IDYL VI.

LOVE THOSE WHO LOVE YOU.

PAN Echo loved; she loved the frisky Faun;
The Faun to Lyda by strong love was drawn;
As Echo Pan, the Faun did Echo burn,
And Lyda him; all felt in love in turn.
And with what scorn the loved the lover grieved
Was that one scorned, and like for like received.
Hear, heart-free! Let who love you love obtain,
That if you love, you may be loved again.

IDYL VII.

ALPHEUS.

ALPHEUS, gliding by old Pisa's towers,
Deep in the sea his eager way pursues
With sacred dust, and olive-leaves, and flowers,
With which he hastens to his Arethuse.

Smoothly he runs; the sea not feels the river With soft unmingled stream its water rive;

Eros it was, that subtle counsel-giver,

Who taught a river how for love to dive.