THE SAME TRANSLATED. Αρ' οὖν καταγνοὺς τοῦ κασιγνητοῦ θανεῖν, ἔπειτα δούλοις ἀνδράσιν ξυγγνώσομαι ; ἀδελφὸς οὗμὸς οὐδέν ̓ ἔκτεινεν βροτῶν, βουλῶν δ ̓ ἄποινα, θάνατον ἤντλησεν πικρόν· καὶ μὴν ἐκείνου τίς μ' ἐδεῖθ ̓ ὕπερ; τίς ἦν ὁ νουθετήσας γονυπετὴς θυμούμενον, φύσιν ξύναιμον καὶ φιλόφρονας τρόπους φράζων; τίς εἶπεν, ὡς ὁ δυσδαίμων ἀνὴρ, μέγαν στρατηγὸν πενθερόν θ ̓ αὑτοῦ λιπών, ἐμοὶ ξυνέμαχησ ̓; οἷά μ' ̓Αρέος ἐν κλόνῳ κεῖνος πεσόντ ἐῤῥύσατ ̓, ἔκ τ' ηὔδησ ̓ ἔπος, ζῆ καὶ τυράννευ ̓, ὦ κασιγνητὸν κάρα ; τίς εἶφ ̓, ὑπαιθρίοισιν ὡς ἐκείμεθον πάγοισιν ἡμιθνῆθ', ὁ δ ̓ ἀμπισχὼν ἐμὲ τοῖς οἶσι πέπλοις, εἶτα γυμνωθὲν δέμας αὑτὸν παρέσχε νυκτὸς ἀτηρῷ κρύει; ᾔδειν τάδ'· ὀργῇ δ' ἠγριωμένος τότε κακώς διώλεσ'· οὐδ ̓ ἄρ ̓ εἷς ὑμῶν ἐμοῦ οὕτως ἐκήδεθ ̓, ὥστ ̓ ἀναμνῆσαι πάλιν ἀλλ ̓ οἰκετῶν γ' ἐπεί τις ἢ διακόνων Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon ; But for my brother not a man would speak, For him, poor soul !—The proudest of you all FROM BYRON. The kiss, dear maid, thy lip has left Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gift Untainted back to thine. ὕβριν πάροινον ὕβρισ', αὐτούργῳ χερὶ φθείρας Θεοῦ Σωτῆρος εἰκαστὸν δέμας, προσπίπτετ', ἀναβοᾶτε σύγγνοιάν μ ̓ ἔχειν, κἀγὼ ξυνέγνων, ἄδικα μὲν, πεισθεὶς δ ̓ ὅμως. ὑπὲρ δ' ἀδελφοῦ φθόγγον οὐδέν ̓ ἦν κλύειν· ἀλλ ̓ οὐδ ̓ ἐν οἴκτῳ προθέμην τλήμων ἐγὼ τὸν οἰκτρὰ πάσχοντ ̓· ὅστις, ὅν γ ̓ ἔζη χρόνον, τοῖς ἐν πόλει πρώτοισιν ἦν εὐεργετής, ξυνήγορον δ ̓ οὐχ εὗρε τοῦ σῶσαι βίον. φεῦ, φεῦ· μέτεισι δή τις ἐκ Θεοῦ δίκη πράξαντας ἡμᾶς ταῦτα, πᾶν θ ̓ ἡμῶν γένος. THE SAME TRANSLATED. Tuum labellis hæret impressum meis, Dilecta virgo, basium; Hærebit usque, donec intactum tibi Reddat dies felicior. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see; The tear, that from thine eyelid streams, Can weep no change in me. I ask no pledge to make me blest Nor one memorial for a breast, Whose thoughts are all thine own. Nor need I write; to tell the tale Oh! what can idle words avail, Unless the heart could speak? By day or night, in weal or woe, Must bear the love it cannot show, And silent ache for thee. Abitura vultu me benigno conspicis Amans amantem non minus; Caditque ocello lachryma; sed nunquam, fides Quod nostra mutetur, cadet. Haud pignus ullum, cujus aspectu fruar Te solus amissâ, rogo: Haud quærit anima nostra monumentum tui, Quæ tota de te cogitat. Scriptisne tecum vis loquamur literis? At calamus impotens foret. Nam verba quid me juverint inania, Necesse, fato quicquid accidat novi, Noctes diesque cor meum Lugere, amorem dum silentio premat, G |