246

SELECTIONS

From PSYCHE, or Songs on Butterflies, &c. By T. H. BAYLY, Esq. Translated into Latin, by the REV. ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.

I.

I'm a volatile thing, with an exquisite wing,
Sprinkled o'er with the tints of the rainbow;
All the Butterflies swarm to behold my sweet form,
Though the Grubs may all vote me a vain beau.
I my toilet go through, with my rose-water dew,
And each blossom contributes its essence;
Then all fragrance and grace, not a plume out of place,
I adorn the gay world with my presence-
In short, you must know,

I'm the Butterfly Beau.

At first I enchant a fair Sensitive plant,
Then I flirt with the Pink of perfection:
Then I seek a sweet Pea, and I whisper; "For thee
I have long felt a fond predilection."

A Lily I kiss, and exult in my bliss,

But I very soon search for a new lip;

And I pause in my flight to exclaim with delight,
"Oh! how dearly I love you, my Tulip !"
In short, you must know,

I'm the Butterfly Beau.

Thus for ever I rove, and the honey of love
From each delicate blossom I pilfer;

But though many I see pale and pining for me,
I know none that are worth growing ill for:

And though I must own, there are some that I've known,
Whose external attractions are splendid;

On myself I must dote, for in my pretty coat
All the tints of the garden are blended-

In short, you must know,

I'm the Butterfly Beau,

1.

Res sum levicula, nitidissima ala,
Iridisque refulgeo luce:

Visum me properant quotquot Psychæ volant,

Rideant licet omnes Erucæ.

Me rite como, rosæ rore lavo,

Flos et quisque mi præbet odores;

My own Blue Bell! my pretty Blue Bell!

I never will rove where Roses dwell:
My wings you view of your own bright hue,
And oh! never doubt that my heart's true blue!
Though oft I own, I have foolishly flown
To peep at each bud that was newly blown;
I now have done with folly and fun,

For there's nothing like constancy under the sun.
My own Blue Bell! my pretty Blue Bell!

I never will rove where Roses dwell :
My wings you view of your own bright hue,
And oh! never doubt that my heart's true blue!

Some Belles are Blues, invoking the muse,

And talking of vast intellectual views;

Their crow-quill's tip in the ink they dip,

And they prate with the lore of a learned lip:

Blue bells like these may be wise as they please,

But I love my own Blue Bell that bends in the breeze:
Pride passes her by-but she charms my eye

With a tint, that resembles the cloudless sky.
My own Blue Bell! my pretty Blue Bell!
'I never will rove where Roses dwell:
My wings you view of your own bright hue,
And oh! never doubt that my heart's true blue!

Each bower has beauty for me,

There's a charm in each blossom that blows;

And, if absent the Lily should be,

I shall do very well with the Rose:

If Roses are not in the way,

I'll fly to a Hyacinth soon;

And I never will quarrel with May,
For wanting the Roses of June.
No! no! 'tis my pleasure to chase
Each pretty bud under the sun :
Why should I insult the whole race,
By a silly selection of one?

I love each exotic, that deigns

In a climate like this to expand;

And my heart its affection retains

For the bloom of my dear native land :

1 Quidni et hoc verbo ejusmodi feminas denotemus, utpote quæ sonitum tantum plerumque edant? Nonne in mentem nobis aliquando venit pro voce Gallica belles, deleta litera e, substituere bells? Inde porro, tmesi quadam artificiosa, quod miretur lector, campan-ulæ; eodem prorsus modo, quo Blue-Belles! (Mart. SCRIBL.)

In summer's gay mansions I dwell;
And since summer so soon will be past,
Though I love her first bud very well,
I have love in reserve for her last.
Yes! yes! 'tis my pleasure to chase
Each pretty bud under the sun :
Why should I offend the whole race
By a silly selection of one?

3.

Hortus mihi quisque placet,
Est flosculus quisque suavis;
Et Lilio absente, lubet

Memet recreare Rosis:
Extemplo Hyacinthum sequor,
Vaganti si Rosa desit;
Nec Maio de mense queror,
Quod Juniam haud genuit.
Ah! non; mihi est volupe
Omnem ligurire florem:
Unum seligens stolide,
Totum genus cur irritem?
Flos quisque mi ridet, oris
Qui hospes in his vigeat;
Nec floribus in patriis

Est, qui mihi non rideat:
Domum mihi grata præbet
Estas-celeris sed abit!
Et gemmula prima placet,
Nec ultima non placuit.
Sic est mihi est volupe
Omnem ligurire florem:

Unum seligens stolide,

Totum genus cur cruciem?

IV.

Oh no: we never mention her!
Her name is never heard:
My lips are now forbid to speak

That once-familiar word.

From sport to sport they hurry me,
To banish my regret;

And, when they win a smile from me,

They think that I forget.

They bid me seek in change of scene
The charms, that others see:

But, were I in a foreign land,
They'd find no change in me.

"Tis true, that I behold no more
The valley where we met;
The hawthorn-tree no more I see-
But how can I forget?

They tell me, she is happy now,
The gayest of the gay;

They say, that she forgets me-but
I heed not what they say.

Like me, perhaps, she struggles with
Each feeling of regret :

But, if she once has loved like me,
She never can forget.

4.

Ab! ejus nunquam mentio fit,
De illa siletur:

Nomen-tam notum olim-fari

Haud mi conceditur.
Ad varios me lusus trahunt,

Ne defleam sortem;
Et sicubi subrisero,

Credunt immemorem.

Loco mutato ut gaudeam,

Par ceteris, monent:
At, ut peregre absim, me
Mutatum nil cernent.
Convallem, qua convenimus,
Frustra quidem quæro,
Fagumque-at obliviscier
Ah! quo queam modo?

Iliam felicem prædicant,
Immo alacerrimam;
Nostrumque-at haud putavero—
Affirmant oblitam.

Premit dolorem forsitan,

Ut nos; amaverit

At ut nos, obliviscier

Ah! nunquam poterit.

The ANCIENT FRAGMENTS; containing what remains of the Writings of Sanchoniatho, Berosus, Abydenus, Megasthenes, and Manetho; also the Hermetic Creed, &c. Translated by J. P. CORY, Esq. Fellow of Caius Coll. Cambridge. London, W. Pickering, 1828.

We remember an occasion, on which the authority of Moses was questioned by a village lawyer, who never failed, when opportunities were offered, to advocate infidelity or atheism.