59*

T. G. HAKE, The Inscrutable

THAT night in dreams that sway

The soul to shedding blood,

One hears his own voice say

In sleep's half-weary mood,

Take down your father's sword, and quickly slide The blade into his side.

Disguise the seeming guilt,

And bend his fingers round,

And put them on the hilt,

And leave him to his wound.

In that strange dream until the break of day,
Asleep the lover lay.

He wakes, aghast; he strives

To get the vision hence,

That into morning lives,

And fastens on his sense.

'Tis but a dream, but should her hand fulfil

His will within her will!

She comes up wild and pale,

She wrings her hands in pain,

She utters with a wail

'Who hath my father slain?

My anguished heart sobbed all night in its sleep; I felt it sob and weep.

I saw you while I slept,

And to my dream you spoke;

All night the words I kept,

I heard them when I woke :

Take down your father's sword, and quickly slide The blade into his side.

59

HAC ille nocte, dum tenent insomnia
mens unde caedes adpetat,
suas loquentis ipse uoces audiit

sopore semilanguidas.

Tu patris ensem deripe atque ipsi citus mucro latus sine hauriat, crimenque falle quod uidebitur tuum, uncosque digitos copulans

impone capulo diligenter et suo
sic sic relinque uolneri.

hac totus in quiete tam mira iacet
amator ad primum iubar.
somnum metus soluere; nocturnam procul
uolt uolt fugare imaginem.

ast illa lucem non fugit; sensus tenet,
dirum uigens, expergitos.

'Haec somnia;' inquit 'sin mihi absentis manus uolens uolenti pareat-.'

en, illa uoltus pallida amenti subit

dolore plangens pectora.

'Quis,' eiulat 'meum quis occidit patrem ?

ut nocte cor tota mihi

lassauit aegris pectus in singultibus,

nostris gemens flens auribus!

quiete te deuincta, te uidi; tuas

uoces loquentis audii.

uox ista tota nocte sopitam replet, uox ista somno liberam.

Tu patris ensem deripe atque ipsi citus mucro latus sine hauriat,

Disguise the seeming guilt,

And bend his fingers round,

And put them on the hilt,

And leave him to his wound.

O the false voice, that it so true should seem

In that unthought-of dream!

I hurried to the bed,

I saw that he was slain,

I saw the blood was shed,

I saw the deep,-deep stain.

His sword was through his side,-thrust,-on the hilt His fingers took the guilt.'

60 HENRY PHILLIPS, Junr., Magyar Folksongs

WRETCHED comrade, void of rest,

Always at the market guest,
Many a horse and cow I steal,
So I gain my daily meal.
Naught have I of any good,

But my body and young blood;
Were I only by my dove,

Woe and pain would yield to love.

Naught care I if others weep,

Bread and butter let them keep;

To the Tanya turn I free

Where my sweetheart waits for me.
Naught care I for treasure's store,
Jewels, diamonds, golden ore;
Envy follows not my tread,
Danger threatens not my head.
When in earth I rest at last,
Fame and name forever past,
O'er my grave shall flowers spread,
Violets blue and roses red.

crimenque falle quod uidebitur tuum, uncosque digitos copulans

impone capulo diligenter et suo

sic sic relinque uolneri.

heu falsa uox, tam uera quae uisa's meo incogitata somnio!

uolo ad patris cubile. mortuus iacet, fluens iacet cruoribus.

uidi omnia undique inquinantem sanguinem latusque ferro saucium. adactus ensis; insidens capulo manus sibi ipsa crimen imputat.'

60

INFELIX comes, hospes inquietus,
notus per fora perque uolgus erro,
uaccas surripiens equosque, furtis
famem sic tolero cotidianam.

nil laetist mihi commodiue, dotes
ni sint corporis integerque sanguis.
quod si nostra columbula adfuisses,
angor curaque cederent amori.
nil, si flent alii, moror; quid ad me?
pane et caseolo, uelint, fruantur;
sed liber Tanaim meaeque uitae
paratas sequor osculationes.
thensauros ego nil moror, nec aurum;
nil gemmas et iaspidum nitores.
huic nil inuidiae nocent sequaces
nec casus capiti minantur ulli.
et cum puluis ad ultimum quiescam
exsors nomine iam futurus omni,
obducent mihi floribus sepulcrum
ferrugo uiolae, rosae rubores.

61 A. E. HOUSMAN, Epitaph on an Army of

Mercenaries

THESE, in the day when heaven was falling,

The hour when earth's foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling

And took their wages and are dead.

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.

62

63*

R. HERRICK

SMOOTH was the sea and seem'd to call
Two prettie girles to play withall;

Who padling there, the sea soone frown'd
And on a sudden both were drown'd.
What credit can we give to seas,

Who, kissing, kill such Saints as these?

T. C. LEWIS (from the Persian)

YON fort once proudly towered into the blue;
Kings at its portals rendered homage due.
Now from its ruins sounds a dove's lone coo
And fondly asks who built it, who, who, who?