account of his sickness; but it was the belief of the Romans, in the time of Pliny, that he who had shed such torrents of blood was visited by an awful retribution of suffering; that vermin bred incessantly on his body, and that thus he was in time destroyed.—

Arnold.

FRIDAY, May 15.

Into Latin Alcaics.

Come, dear Pastora, come away!
And hail the cheerful spring;
Now fragrant blossoms crown the May,
And woods with love-notes ring:
Now Phoebus to the west descends,

ray;

And sheds a fainter
And as our rural labour ends,
We bless the closing day.
In yonder artless maple bower,
With blooming woodbines twined,
Let us enjoy the evening hour,
On earth's soft lap reclined;
Or where yon poplar's verdant boughs
The crystal current shade;

O deign, fair nymph, to hear the vows
My faithful heart has made.

On pride's false glare I look with scorn
And all its glittering train;
Be mine the pleasures which adorn
This ever-peaceful plain.—Whately.

MONDAY, May 18.

Into Greek Anapæstics.

He tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid;
Ran on embattled armies clad in iron;

And weaponless himself,

Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery

Of brazen shield and spear, the hammered cuirass, Chalybean-tempered steel, and frock of mail.

But safest he who stood aloof,

When insupportably his foot advanced

In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools
Spurned them to death by troops.

Samson Agonistes.

WEDNESDAY, May 20.

Into Greek Prose.

The matter of seditions is of two kinds, much poverty and much discontentment; and if this poverty and broken estate in the better sort be joined with a want and necessity in the mean people, the danger is imminent and great: for the rebellions of the belly are the worst. As for discontentments, they are in the politic body like to humours in the natural, which are apt to gather a preternatural heat, and to inflame: and let no prince measure the danger of them by this, whether they be just or unjust, for that were to imagine people to be too reasonable, who do too often spurn at their own good: neither let any prince or state be secure concerning discontentments, because they have been often or have been long, and yet no peril hath ensued: for as it is true that every vapour doth not turn into a storm, so it is nevertheless true, that storms, though they blow over divers times, yet may fall at last.Bacon's Essays.

FRIDAY, May 22.

Into Greek Iambics.

Next night-a dreary night

Cast on the wildest of the Cyclad isles,
Where never human foot had marked the shore,
These ruffians left me-

Beneath a shade
I sat me down, more heavily oppressed,
More desolate at heart than e'er I felt
Before. Then Philomela o'er my head
Began to tune her melancholy strain,
As piteous of my woes: till by degrees,
Composing sleep on wounded nature shed
A kind but short relief. At early morn,
Waked by the chant of birds, I looked around
For usual objects: objects found I none,
Except before me stretched the toiling main,
And rocks, and woods, in savage view behind,

Thomson.

MONDAY, May 25.

Into Latin Hexameters.

And now th' Almighty Father of the gods
Convenes a Council in the blest abodes.
Far in the bright recesses of the skies,
High o'er the rolling heavens a mansion lies,
Whence far below, the gods at once survey
The realms of rising and declining day,
And all th' extended space of earth and air and sea.
Full in the midst, and on a starry throne,
The Majesty of Heaven superior shone;
Serene he looked, and gave an awful nod,
And all the trembling spheres confessed the god.
At Jove's assent, the deities around,

In solemn state the consistory crowned;
Next a long order of inferior powers,

Ascend from hills and plains and shady bowers;
Those from whose urns the rolling rivers flow,
And those that give the wandering winds to blow.

WEDNESDAY, May 27.

Into Latin Elegiacs.

'Twas when the slow-declining ray
Had tinged the cloud with evening gold;
No warbler poured the melting lay,
No sound disturbed the sleeping fold;
When by murmuring rill reclined,

Sat wrapt in thought a wandering swain;
Calm peace composed his musing mind;
And thus he raised the flowing strain:
Hail, Innocence! celestial maid,

What joys thy blushing charms reveal;
Sweet as the arbour's cooling shade
And milder than the vernal gale.
On thee attends a radiant choir,

Pope.

Soft smiling peace and downy rest;
With love, that prompts the warbling lyre,
And hope, that soothes the throbbing breast.

Ogilvie.

FRIDAY, May 29.

Into Latin Prose.

The funeral oration made by Pericles upon his brave countrymen who died in battle is full of prudence and manly eloquence; of hearty zeal for the honour of his country, and wise remarks. He does not lavish away his condemnation, but renders the honours of the state truly desirable, by showing that they are always conferred with judgment and wariness. He praises the dead in order to encourage the living to follow their example; to which he proposes the strongest inducements in the most moving and lively manner; from the consideration of the immortal honours paid to the deceased; and the generous provisions made by the Government for the dear persons left behind, by those who fell in their country's cause. He imputes the greatest share of the merits of those gallant men to the excellency of the Athenian Constitution, which trained them up in such regular discipline, and secured to them and their descendants such invaluable privileges, that no man of sense and gratitude, of public spirit, and a lover of his children, would scruple to venture his life to preserve them inviolable, and transmit them to late posterity.-Blackwall.

MONDAY, June 1.

Into Greek Anapæstics.

In glittering arms and glory drest,
High he rears his ruby crest.
There the thundering strokes begin,
There's the press, and there's the din;
Talymalfra's rocky shore

Echoing to the battle's roar;

Where his glowing eyeballs turn,

Thousand banners round him burn:

Where he points his purple spear,

Hasty, hasty rout is there:

There confusion, Terror's child;
Conflict fierce, and ruin wild;

Agony that pants for breath,

Despair and honourable death.-Gray.

WEDNESDAY, June 3.

Into Latin Hexameters.

Gabriel, thou hadst in heaven the esteem of wise,
And such I held thee; but this question asked
Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain?
Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
Though thither doomed? Thou wouldst thyself, no
doubt,

And boldly venture to whatever place

Farthest from pain, where thou might'st hope to change
Torment with ease, and soonest recompense
Dole with delight, which in this place I sought;
To thee no reason, who know'st only good,
But evil hast not tried: and wilt object
His will who bounds us. Let him surer bar
His iron gates, if he intends our stay

In that dark durance.-Milton.-Paradise Lost, Book VI.

FRIDAY, June 5.

Into Greek Iambics.

Let us appear nor rash nor diffident,
Immod'rate valour swells into a fault;
And fear admitted into public councils,
Betrays like treason. Let us shun 'em both.
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs

Are grown thus desperate; we have bulwarks round us:
Within our walls are troops inured to toil

In Afric's heat, and season'd to the sun;
While there is hope do not distrust the Gods;
But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach
Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror.

MONDAY, June 8.

Into Latin Elegiacs.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb

Addison's Cato.

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring,
Each opening sweet of earliest bloom,

And rifle all the breathing spring.