THE DEATH OF SOCRATES. τι τοῦτο; ἡ ἄρτι δακρύετε; οὐ γὰρ πάλαι ἴστε ὅτι ἐξ ὅτου περ ἐγενόμην, κατε ψηφισμένος ἦν μον ὑπὸ τῆς φύσεως ὁ θάνατος; Xenophontis Defensio Socratica. "WEEP ye to think a mortal friend must die, And thus fulfil his human destiny? And know ye not that all the things of earth,— The statesman's policy;-the patriot's zeal,- "Know ye not this, my friends? Then murmur not That I, a mortal, prove a mortal's lot; That I, a thing of earthly hopes and fears, "Or weep ye that I fall in reason's prime, How "Beneath the weight of years,-by dull degrees Resigning life's ennobling energies: The kindly feelings that were wont to shed Their warmth upon my heart, worn out and dead; To death my body, while my soul still lives: Its author's bane, but merciful to me. "My actual life must finish now, but long Shall live my story in the poet's song; Throughout the world shall each succeeding age Inscribe my wrongs upon the' Historian's page: In Greece's memory my name enshrined; While Athens-drooping Athens-still shall mourn With love maternal o'er my mouldering urn." Calm, imperturbed, the' undaunted Heathen died, Perchance, too, feebly fluttering, hovered o'er To guide the wanderer to its home above. Oh! had the certainty of saving grace, Of full redemption for a guilty race,— How had it rested on the hope divine Of endless life!-Christian! that hope is thine! L-x-C. THE LOVERS OF VIRE. 66 BY THE AUTHOR OF RICHELIEU." THE sun was shining as fair as the sun could shine in a beautiful May morning; bright, yet gentle; warm, but fresh; midway between the watering-pot of April and the warming-pan of June, when, in the beautiful valley of Vire-everybody knows Vire-but, lest there should be anybody in the wide world who does not, dearly beloved reader, I will tell you all about it. Get into the stage-coach, which journeyeth diurnally between London and Southampton; enjoy the smoothness of the road, bless Mr. M'Adam, put up at the Dolphin, and yield yourself to the full delights of an English four-post bed, for no such sweets shall you know from the moment you set your foot on board the steamboat for Havre, till the same steam-boat, or another, it matters not which, lands you once more on the English strand. |