The Cataract.

"Ipsa quoque assiduo labuntur tempora motu

Nec secus as flumen neque enim consistere flumen,
Nec levis hora potest: sed ut unda impellitur undâ,
Urgeturque prior veniente, urgetque priorem;
Tempora sic fugiunt pariter, pariterque sequuntur:

Et nova sunt semper: nam quod fuit ante, relictum est,

Fitque, quod haud fuerat, momentaque cuncta no vantur."- OVID.

« Ποταμῶ γὰρ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐμβῆναι δὶς τῷ ἀυτῷ σκίνδησι και πάλιν συνάγει, συνίσταται και απολέιπει, καί πρόσεισι Kai ateiσi.”—HERACLITUS OF EPHESUS.

Have you ne'er watched from far the Cataract's gleam Hang in the air, fixed, like a silver thread,

Without or sound or motion; though it spread

Over its rocky basin in a stream

Swift as a falling star; and as a dream

Shifting and restless; its bright body fed

float:

By drops for ever, many-myriaded :
Yet poised, a shaft of light, its waters seem?
As with the Torrent, with the River: boat
Down the same volume never twice may
And such is Man: tho' seeming firm-compact,
He lives by fluxion: as with one, with all :--
The life of Nations is but as the fall

Of the continuous changeful cataract.

Cherwell from the Terrace.

(Continued.)

"Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium,
Me dicente cavis impositam ilicem
Saxis, unde loquaces

Lymphæ desiliunt tuæ."-HORACE.

Aristocratic stream! Thou who dost brook

No trade upon thy waters! never soil
Thy purity the barge and sons of toil!

For gentle lovers only dost thou look :

Ne'er hast thou been, ne'er shalt thou be, forsook
By Youth and Pleasure, who with dripping oar
Through the green meadows on thy banks explore
Each azure bend, and lily-bearing nook ;
The pool by bathers sought, glassy and still :
The shady reach where the dark willows bend :
Thine angler-haunted current by the mill :-
Beautiful river! why should I rehearse

Faintly thy charms, when he who was my friend
Hath given thee sweeter and more burning verse ?*

*The Cherwell Water Lily."

A Thought on Last Friendship.

"In a word, but now worth this,

And now worth nothing."-SHAKESPEARE.

66

· Χείματος γὰρ ἀγρίου

τυχούσα, λίμενας ἦλθες ἐς εὐήνεμους.”EURIPIDES.
"Et mea cymba semel vastâ percussa procellâ,

66

Illum, quo læsa est horret adire locum."-OVID.

ἐυδάιμων μὲν ὅς ἐκ θαλασσῆς

ἔφυγε κῦμα λίμενα δ' ἔπεχεν.”—EURIPIDES.

"Socius fidelis anchora tuta est."

"Me tabulâ sacer

Votivâ paries indicat uvida

Suspendisse potenti

Vestimenta maris deo."-HORACE.

"Tam mea votivâ puppis redimita coronâ

Lenta tumescentes æquoris audit aquas."-OVID.

Nay, never speak to me again of love,
For I have ventured once upon Love's sea
My trustful spirit, like an argosie

Trick'd bravely out with flaunting flags above;
Its freight, the spices from some Eastern grove,
Or sunny isle, with gems of priceless cost-
Far o'er the faithless waters are they tost;

For vain with fickle winds my vessel strove,
When all my treasures (hopes and joys) were lost—
Why should the lonely-hearted mariner

From out his sheltered solitary cove,

A calm and quiet harbour, seek to stir,

Fearful of waves with bare life hardly crost?
Nay, never speak to me again of love!

Recantation.

"Mea culpa, mea culpa."

"Esse tibi veras credis amicitias ?

Sunt veræ sed quas juvenis, quas pauper habebas."-MARTIAL.

Mine was the fault, dear friend, and only mine;
I will not wrong thy memory for a day:
Not thou, but I, threw our sweet love away:
Thou wast too spiritually divine,

I all too gross and earthy: so the line

That bound our boyhood snapt; yet thou didst pray To me, and for me, when I fell away

From that high course where both had vowed to shine.

Thy love, had I been slower to o'ertask it,

Still had been treasured in this bosom's casket,
With talismanic blush to warn the bearer,
Each time to pleasure's deadly cup I flew;
Just as the faithful tourquoise saves its wearer
From poison'd chalice, by its changeful hue.

CCLXIV.

Evening Thoughts.

"The twilight star to heav'n,

And the summer dew to flowers,

And rest to us is given

In the cool soft evening hours."-MRS, HEMANS.

The mind, o'erwrought with the day's pleasing toils;
Hard mastery of old black-lettered law,

The gleaning of wise saying and quaint saw
From half-forgotten book; turning up soils
Of learning long left fallow; trophying spoils
Of conquer'd knowledge; stooping o'er to draw
From Poetry's deep wells; not without awe
Threading the maze that Plato's spirit coils;
Or, holier task, re-reading through The Book
First lisp'd in childhood at our Mother's knee;
The mind, now saturate with calm, doth rest
Awhile, till Fancy dons her silver vest ;
And thoughts on thoughts forth singly flashing look,
Like stars, through the dark Heav'n of Memory.