C. L. GRAVES
(Living)

AD ARISTIUM FUSCUM

IN

NTEGER vitæ scleresque purus
Non eget Mauris jaculus neque arcu
Nec venenatis gravida sagittis,
Fusce, pharetra,

Sive per Syrtes iter æstuosas
Sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasam vel quæ loca fabulosus
Lambet Hydaspes.

Nam qua me silva lupus in Sabina
Dum meam Canto Lalagen et ultra
Terminum curis vagor expeditis,

Fugit inermim,

Quale portatum neque militaris
Daunias latis alet æsculetis

Nec Juliæ tellus generat, lionem
Arida nutrix.

1 Horace, Ode.

C. L. GRAVES
(Living)

AD ARISTIDEN OBFUSCATUM '

IF

F clear be your conscience, my Morley,
No bullet-proof coat you'll require,
Though often dispirited sorely

By Erin's Invincible ire;

Nay further, discarding coercion,
You may with impunity fare

On a midsummer moonlight excursion
Unarmed through the County of Clare.

Look at me. As the breeze of the zephyr I strolled forth of late to enjoy,

A vicious and virulent heifer

I was humming the "Dear Irish Boy". Came fiercely galumphing beside me; But suddenly, soothed by my lay, The animal amiably eyed me, And cantered serenely away.

1 From The Hawarden, Horace.

Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor æstiva recreatur aura,
Quod latus mundi nebulæ malusque
Jupiter urget;

Pone sub curru nimium propinqui
Solis in terra domibus negata
Dulce ridentum Lalagen amabo
Dulce loquentem.

O wild is Hibernia's Taurus1

And Collings' chimerical Cow,'
And neither demure nor decorous

4

Is the Tammany Boss, but I vow
That even in Chamberlain's garden
No wickeder brute you'll espy
Than the horrible heifer of Hawarden,
Who fled from my Emerald Eye.

Were I bound within range of a rifle
In Dopping's implacable grip;
Though I flew to the summit of Eiffel
To give Ashmead-Bartlett the slip;
Were I doomed to despair on Sahara,

Or sentenced to dine with the Shah,
Still I'd chant, to the tune of Ta-ra-ra,
The praises of Erin-go-bragh.

1 The Irish Bull.

2

Three acres and a Cow."

3 Tammany Boss or the Tiger.

4 Mr. A. Chamberlain, M. P., was once gored by a bull in his garden.

sea,

We stood on high, and heard the north wind flee Through clouds storm-heavy fallen from ledge to ledge.

Then sudden "Look!" we cried. The far black edge

Of south horizon oped in sunbright glee,

And a broad water shone, one moment free, Ere darkness veiled again the wavering sedge.

Such is the Poet's inspiration, still

Too evanescent! coming but to go: Such the great passion showing good in ill,

Quick brightnesses, love-lights too soon burnt low; And such man's life, which flashes Heaven's will Between two glooms a transitory glow.