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TRANSLATION FROM MOSCHUS.
PAN loved his neighbour Echo-but that child
The bright nymph Lyda,—and so 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.
FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO" OF CALDERON.
CYPRIAN as a Student; CLARIN and MOSCON as poor Scholars, with books.
In the sweet solitude of this calm place,
This intricate wild wilderness of trees
And flowers and undergrowth of odorous plants,
To me are ever best society.
And whilst with glorious festival and song
To its new shrine, I would consume what still
Go and enjoy the festival; it will
You, my friends,
Be worth the labour, and return for me
When the sun seeks its grave among the billows,
I shall expect you.
I cannot bring my mind,
Great as my haste to see the festival
Certainly is, to leave you, Sir, without
Of such festivity, you can bring your mind
With three or four old books, and turn your back
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.
From first to last,
Clarin, you are a temporizing flatterer;
You praise not what you feel but what he does;— Toadeater!
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.
Enough, you foolish fellows.
Puffed up with your own doting ignorance,
You always take the two sides of one question.
When night falls, veiling in its shadows wide
This glorious fabric of the universe.
How happens it, although you can maintain
The folly of enjoying festivals,
That yet you go there?
Nay, the consequence
Is clear-who ever did what he advises
Livia, I come; good sport, Livia, Soho!
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
Can find no God with whom these marks and signs
Which I must fathom.
Enter the DEVIL, as a fine Gentleman.
Search even as thou wilt,
But thou shalt never find what I can hide.
What noise is that among the boughs? Who moves?
What art thou?—
'Tis a foreign gentleman. Even from this morning I have lost my way In this wild place, and my poor horse at last Quite overcome, has stretched himself upon The enamelled tapestry of this mossy mountain, And feeds and rests at the same time. I was Upon my way to Antioch upon business Of some importance, but wrapt up in cares (Who is exempt from this inheritance)
I parted from my company, and lost and lost my servants and my
'Tis singular, that even within the sight
Of the high towers of Antioch, you could lose
And such is ignorance! Even in the sight
O fknowledge it can draw no profit from it.
Have no acquaintances in Antioch,
The few surviving hours of the day,
Are a great student; for my part, I feel
Much sympathy with such pursuits.