"Why, hapless mother! with this train of thought
Dost thou provoke the grief that comes unsought?
Why dost thou talk these dreadful sorrows o'er,
Now wept by us — as we have wept before?
Are not the new griefs that we look to see
From day to day, enough for you and me?
Lover of dole were he, who would recount
Our tale of woes, and find their whole amount !
Take heart, and bear those ills we cannot cure,
But by the will of heaven we must endure.
And yet I cannot bid thee cease to grieve;
For even joy to spend itself has leave.

For thee I wail, why wert thou doomed, oh why,
To be a partner in our misery?

I mourn that fate with ours thy fortune blends
Under the woe that over us impends.

Ye! by whose names unpunished none forswear,
Persephona and dread Demeter, hear!

Not less on thee has my true love reposed,
Than if my womb thy body had enclosed;

I love thee, sweetest! as an old-age child,
That has, beyond hope, on its mother smiled;
Thou knowest this; then say not, I implore,
I love thee not, or foster sorrow more,

Or in my grief I careless am of thee,

Though I weep more than e'er wept Niobe.
No blame is due to her with anguish wild,
Who hapless weeps for her unhappy child.
Ten weary months within my womb he lay-
What pains I suffered ere he came to day!
What pangs! I all but said farewell to earth,
While yet my unborn lingered in the birth.
New toils now task him in a foreign plain –
Oh shall I ever see my son again?
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,
But 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 fell 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.