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brought the supplies every morn and eve, prided himself particularly on the size and beauty of his churn, a capacious wooden recipient which my young eye admired with more than superficial curiosity. Having accidentally got on the wagon and explored the capacious hollow of the machine, a bright angel whispered in mine ear to secrete myself in the cavity. I did so; and shortly after, the gates of the hospital were flung wide for my egress, and I found myself jogging onward on the high road to light and freedom! Judge of my sensations! Milton has sung of one who, long in populous city pent," makes a visit to Highgate, and, snuffing the rural breeze, blesses the country air my rapture was of a nature that defies description. To be sure, it was one of the most boisterous days of storm and tempest that ever vexed the heavens ; but secure in the churn, I chuckled with joy, and towards evening fell fast asleep. In my subsequent life I have often dwelt with pleasure on that joyous escape; and when in my course of studies I met with the following beautiful elegy of Simonides, I could not help applying it to myself, and translated it accordingly. There have been versions by Denman, the Queen's solicitor ;* by Elton, by W. Hay, and by Doctor Jortin; but I prefer my own, as more literal, and more conformable to genuine Greek simplicity.

*WE never employed him. — REGINA.

The Lament of Danae.

By Simonides, the elegiac Poet of Cos.

Ότε λαρνακι εν δαιδαλεᾳ, ανεμος
Βρεμε πνεων, κινηθεισα τε λιμνα
Δειματι ηριπεν, ουδ' αδιαντοισι
Παρειαις, αμφι δε Περσει βαλε
Φιλαν χέρα, είπεν τε· Ω τέκος,
Οἷον εχω πονον συ ୪ αωτεις, γαλαθηνῳ τὸ
Ητορι κνώσσεις εν ατερπει δωματι,
Χαλκεογομφῳ δε νυκτιλαμπει
Κυανεῳ τε δνοφῳ· συ δ' αυαλεαν
Υπερθε τεαν κομαν βαθειαν
Παριοντος κυματος ουκ αλεγεις,
Ουδ' ανεμου φθογγων, πορφυρεα
Κειμενος εν χλανίδι, προσωπον καλον.
Ει δε τοι δεινον τογε δεινον ην,
Και κεν εμων ρηματων λεπτον
Υπειχες ουας· κελομαι, εΰδε βρεφος,
Εύδετο δε ποντος, εύδετο αμετρον κακον.
Ματαιοβουλια δε τις φανείη,

Ζεῦ πατερ, εκ σεο· ὁ τι δη θαρσαλεον

Επος, ευχομαι τεκνοφι δικας μοι.

The Lament of Stella.

By Father Prout.

While round the churn, 'mid sleet and rain,
It blew a perfect hurricane,

Wrapt in slight garment to protect her,
Methought I saw my mother's spectre,

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Who took her infant to her breast

Me, the small tenant of that chest-
While thus she lulled her babe: "How cruel
Have been the Fates to thee, my jewel!

But, caring naught for foe or scoffer,
Thou sleepest in this milky coffer,
Cooper'd with brass hoops weather-tight,
Impervious to the dim moonlight.
The shower cannot get in to soak
Thy hair or little purple cloak;
Heedless of gloom, in dark sojourn,
Thy face illuminates the churn!
Small is thine ear, wee babe, for hearing,
But grant my prayer, ye gods of Erin!
And may folks find that this young fellow
Does credit to his mother Stella,"

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211

No. V.

THE ROGUERIES OF TOM MOORE.

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From the Prout Papers.

"Grata carpendo thyma per laborem
Plurimum, circa nemus* uvidique

Tiburis ripas, operosa PARVUS

Carmina fingo."

QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS.

By taking time, and some advice from Prout,

A polish'd book of songs I hammered out;

But still my Muse, for she the fact confesses,
Haunts that sweet hill, renown'd for water-cresses.'

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THOMAS L. MOORE.

WHEN the star of Father Prout (a genuine son of the accomplished Stella, and in himself the most eccentric luminary that has of late adorned our planetary system) first rose in the firmament of literature, it deservedly attracted the gaze of the learned, and riveted the eye of the sage. We know not what may have been the sensation its appearance created

* i. e. Blarneum nemus.

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in foreign countries,-at the Observatoire Royal of Paris, in the Val d'Arno, or at Fesolé, where, in Milton's time, the sons of Galileo plied the untiring telescope to descry new heavenly phenomena, "rivers. or mountains in the shadowy moon," vouch for the impression made on the London University; for all Stinkomalee hath been perplexed at the apparition. The learned Chaldeans of Gower Street opine that it forebodes nothing good to the cause of "useful knowledge," and they watch the "transit" of Prout, devoutly wishing for his "exit." With throbbing anxiety, night after night has Dr. Lardner gazed on the sinister planet, seeking, with the aid of Dr. Babbage's calculating machine, to ascertain the probable period of its final eclipse, and often muttering its name, "" to tell how he hates its beams." He has seen it last April shining conspicuously in the constellation of Pisces, when he duly conned over the "Apology for Lent;" and the Doctor has reported to the University Board, that, "advancing with retrograde movement in the zodiac," this disastrous orb was last perceived in the milky way, entering the sign of "Amphora," or "the

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