Caledonia.

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child;
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band

That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Still, as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me, of all bereft,

Sole friends thy woods and streams are left;
And thus I love them better still,

Even in extremity of ill.

By Yarrow's stream still let me stray,
Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my wither'd cheek;
Still lay my head by Teviot stone,
Though there, forgotten and alone,
The bard may draw his parting groan.

SCOTT.

Enigme.

Enfant de l'Art, enfant de la Nature,
Plus je suis vrai, plus je suis imposture;
Sans prolonger la vie, j'empêche de mourir,
Et je deviens trop jeune, à force de vieillir.

VOLTAIRE.

Caledonia.

Dura, poetarum nutrix aptissuma, tellus,
Qvam nemus et rubea vestit erica coma;
Scotia caeruleis Acheloi laeta fluentis,

Laeta jugis; patribus Scotia cara meis;
Qvae manus aeterni pia vincula rumpat amoris,
Et memores orae nos vetet esse tuae?
Singula per notos dum rura revisimus agros,
Et qvae sunt, animo, qvaeqve fuere, seqvor,
Omnibus amissis tua iam lenimina nobis

Et nemora et purae sola videntur aqvae.
Tantum crescit amor qvantum infortunia crescunt;
Hinc magis illa animo cara magisqve meo.
Ipse eqvidem, nemo si membra senilia ducat,
Ad sacra Varroviae flumina solus eam;
Notus et Ettriciis veniat modo ventus ab arvis,
Arida brumali torreat ora gelu;

Et

prope dilectos, Teviotica saxa, recessus

O liceat solum deposuisse caput,

Qvamqvam vatis erunt aeterna oblivia, qvamqvam

Ultimus aerium spiritus ibit iter!

H. T.

Αίνιγμα.

Τῆς Τέχνης βρέφος εἰμί, Φύσις δέ με γείνατο μήτηρ μᾶλλον ἐγὼ ψεύδω μᾶλλον ἀληθὲς ἐόν·

οὐ βίον ἐκτείνω θνητοῖς, θάνατον δ ̓ ἀπερύκω, καὶ τό μ' ἄγαν γῆρας θῆκεν ἄγαν νεαρόν.

H. J. H.

Song of Comus.

The star that bids the shepherd fold,
Now the top of heaven doth hold;
And the gilded car of day

His glowing axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantic stream;

And the slope sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east.
Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity.

Braid your locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odours, dropping wine.
Rigour now is gone to bed,

And advice with scrupulous head,
Strict age and sour severity,

With their grave saws, in slumber lie.

We, that are of purer fire,

Imitate the starry quire,

Who in their nightly watchful spheres

Lead in swift round the months and years.

MILTON.

Comus.

Λαμπρὸς ὅδ ̓ ἀστὴρ ὁ ποτὶ σταθμούς
ποίμνας ἐπάγων, οὐρανὸν ἤδη
μέσον ἀμβαίνει,

κἀν ἑσπερίοις κύμασι πρηνὴς
ὁ θεὸς σπεύδει χρυσοφαέννων
παῦσαι μαλερὰν σύριγγα δίφρων,
καὶ τηλεφανεῖς ὕπτιος αὐγὰς
πρὸς κυανειδῆ πόλον ἔρριψεν,
τέρμα βαδίζων

θαλάμων τηλοῦρον ἑῴων.

ἄγε δὴ θαλιῶν χάρις εὐστεφάνων κώμων τε μέλη μηδ' ἀτὲρ οἴνου τῶν παννυχίων κελάδημα χορῶν, ῥοδέοις στέμμασι πᾶς ἀναδείσθω κρατὸς ἔθειραν, μύρον ἐνστάξας καὶ γάνος οἴνης Διονύσου. νῦν γὰρ πᾶς τις κατεκοιμήθη φθονερός, σοφίας τ ̓ εἴ τις ἐραστὴς τῆς πολυβούλου.

ἐν δὲ γερόντων καὶ βαρυθύμων πᾶν ὀδυνηρὸν γένος αὐταῖσι

γνώμαις ἐν ὕπνῳ κατακεῖται. δεῦτ ̓ οὖν ὑμεῖς πυρὸς αἰθερίου καθαροὶ παῖδες, τῶν οὐρανίων ἄστρων ἤδη μιμεῖσθε χορούς, οἳ ταχυδίνοις περιτελλόμενοι κύκλοισιν ἔτη

καὶ μῆνας ἄγουσι τελείους.

Ε. Η. G.

Styrian Evensong.

Descend, O dewy Even,
On lawn and thirsty lea;
To thee our songs are given,
Our pipes are tuned for thee.

And lo, thy blush investeth
The vale with purple gleam,
While on the mountain resteth
The sun's departing beam.

Now solemn silence filleth
The earth and waning sky,

Save where the woodbird trilleth

Her last faint lullaby.

K. (from the German.)

Was ist das Herz ohne Liebe?

Wie ein Land ohne Herrn,

Wie die Nacht ohne Stern,

Wie der Becher ohn' Wein,

Wie der Vogel ohn' Hain,
Wie ohn' Aug' ein Gesicht,

Wie ohn' Reim ein Gedicht,

So ohne der Liche Scherz und Schmerz

Das Herz.

W. MUELLER.