To burn the Cyclops' eye, that all may share

In the great enterprize.

Have become lame; cannot move hand or foot.

Chorus. The same thing has occured to us;-our ancles Are sprained with standing here, I know not how.

Ulys. What, sprained with stauding still?

Chorus.

And there is dust

Or ashes in our eyes, I know not whence.

Ulys. Cowardly dogs! ye will not aid me then?

Chorus. With pitying my own back and my back bone,

And with not wishing all my teeth knocked out,
This cowardice comes of itself-but stay:

I know a famous Orphic incantation

To make the brand stick of its own accord
Into the skull of this one-eyed son of Earth.

Ulys. Of old I knew ye thus by nature; now
I know ye better. I will use the aid

Of my own comrades-yet though weak of hand
Speak cheerfully, that so ye may awaken

The courage of my friends with your blithe words.
Chorus. This I will do with peril of my life,
And blind you with my exhortations, Cyclops.
Hasten and thrust,

And parch up to dust,
The eye of the beast,
Who feeds on his guest.

Burn and blind

The Etnean hind!

Scoop and draw,

But beware lest he claw

Your limbs near his maw.

Cyc. Ah me! my eye-sight is parched up to cinders. Chorus. What a sweet pæan! sing me that again! Cyc. Ah me! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me! But, wretched nothings, think ye not to flee

Out of this rock; I, standing at the outlet,
Will bar the way, and catch you as you pass.
Chorus. What are you roaring out, Cyclops?
Cyc.

I perish!

And besides miserable.

Chorus. For you are wicked.

Cyc.

Chorus. What, did you fall into the fire when drunk?

Cyc. 'Twas Nobody destroyed me.

Cyc. I wish you were as blind as I am.
Chorus.

Nay,

It cannot be that no one made you blind.

Cyc. You jeer ine; where, I ask, is Nobody?

Chorus. No where, O Cyclops

*

*

Cyc. It was that stranger ruined me :-the wretch

First gave me wine, and then burnt out my eye,
For wine is strong and hard to struggle with.

Have they escaped, or are they yet within ?

Chorus. They stand under the darkness of the rock, And cling to it.

Cyc.

At my right hand or left ?
Chorus. Close on your right.

Cyc. Not there, although you say so.

Chorus.

Now they escape you there.

Not on that side.

They creep about you on your left.

Cyc. Where then?

Chorus.

Cyc. Ah! I am mocked? They jeer me in my ills.
Chorus. Not there! he is a little there beyond you.
Cyc. Detested wretch where are you?
Far from you

Ulys.

I keep with care this body of Ulysses.

Cyc. What do you say? You proffer a new name. Ulys. My father named me so; and I have taken

A full revenge for your unnatural feast;

I should have done ill to have burned down Troy,

And not revenged the murder of my comrades.

Cyc. Ai ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished;
It said that I should have my eyesight blinded
By you coming from Troy, yet it foretold

That you should pay the penalty for this
By wandering long over the homeless sea.
Ulys. I bid thee weep-consider what I say,
I go towards the shore to drive my ship
To mine own land, o'er the Sicilian wave.

Cyc. Not so, if whelming you with this huge stone
I can crush you and all your men together;
I will descend upon the shore, though blind,
Groping my way adown the steep ravine.

Chorus. And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives.

TRANSLATION FROM MOSCHUS.

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.

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.

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, Which among dim grey clouds on the horizon

Dance like white plumes upoù a hearse-and here I shall expect you.

Moscon.

I cannot bring my mind,

Great as my baste 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.

Clarin, you are & temporizing flatterer;

You praise not what you feel, but what he does ;Toadeater!

Cla.

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.

Cyp. Enough, you foolish fellows.

Puffed up with your own doting ignorance,
You always take the two sides of one question.
Now go, and as I said, return for me

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