Tempt my unquiet mind.-But when the roar
Of ocean's gray abyss resounds, and foam
Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst,
I turn from the drear aspect to the home
Of earth and its deep woods, where, interspersed,
When winds blow loud, pines make sweet melody;
Whose house is some lone bark, whose toil the sea,
Whose prey, the wandering fish, an evil lot
Has chosen. But I my languid limbs will fling
Beneath the plane, where the brook's murmuring
Moves the calm spirit but disturbs it not.

II.

PAN loved his neighbour Echo- but that child
Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping;
The Satyr loved with wasting madness wild
The bright nymph Lyda—and so the three went
weeping.

As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr ;

The Satyr, Lyda,-and thus love consumed

them.

And thus to each-which was a woful matter-
To bear what they inflicted, justice doomed them;
For, inasmuch as each might hate the lover,
Each, loving, so was hated.-Ye that love not
Be warned-in thought turn this example over,
That, when ye love, the like return ye prove not.

SONNET FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE.

DANTE ALIGHIERI TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI.

GUIDO, I would that Lappo, thou, and I,
Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend
A magic ship, whose charmed sails should fly
With winds at will where'er our thoughts might
wend,

So that no change, nor any evil chance,

Should mar our joyous voyage; but it might be,
That even satiety should still enhance
Between our hearts their strict community;
And that the bounteous wizard then would place
Vanna and Bice and my gentle love

Companions of our wandering, and would grace
With passionate talk, wherever we might rove,
Our time, and each were as content and free
As I believe that thou and I should be.

318

SCENES

FROM THE

MAGICO PRODIGIOSO OF CALDERON.

CYPRIAN as a Student; CLARIN and MOSCON as poor Scholars, with books.

CYPRIAN.

IN the sweet solitude of this calm place,
This intricate wild wilderness of trees

And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants,
Leave me; the books you brought out of the house
To me are ever best society.

And whilst with glorious festival and song
Antioch now celebrates the consecration
Of a proud temple to great Jupiter,

And bears his image in loud jubilee

To its new shrine, I would consume what still
Lives of the dying day, in studious thought,
Far from the throng and turmoil. You, my friends,
Go and enjoy the festival; it will

Be worth the labour, and return for me

When the sun seeks its grave among the billows, Which among dim gray clouds on the horizon Dance like white plumes upon a hearse ;—and here I shall expect you.

MOSCON.

I cannot bring my mind,

Great as my haste to see the festival

Certainly is, to leave you, Sir, without

Just saying some three or four hundred words.
How is it possible that on a day

Of such festivity, you can bring your mind
To come forth to a solitary country

With three or four old books, and turn your back
On all this mirth?

CLARIN.

My master's in the right;

There is not any thing more tiresome

Than a procession day, with troops of men,
And dances, and all that.

MOSCON.

From first to last,

Cların, you are a temporizing flatterer;

You praise not what you feel, but what he does; Toad-eater!

CLARIN.

You lie under a mistake

For this is the most civil sort of lie

That can be given to a man's face. I now
Say what I think.

CYPRIAN.

Enough: you foolish fellows

Puffed up with your own doting ignorance,

You always take the two sides of one question.
Now gu, and as I said, return for me

When night falls, veiling in its shadows wide
This glorious fabric of the universe.

MOSCON.

How happens it, although you can maintain
The folly of enjoying festivals,

That yet you go there?

Livia is she who has surprised my heart;
But he is more than half way there.-Soho!
Livia, I come; good sport, Livia, soho!

[Exit.

CYPRIAN.

Now since I am alone, let me examine

The question which has long disturbed my mind

With doubt, since first I read in Plinius

The words of mystic import and deep sense

in which he defines God. My intellect