TRANSLATIONS. VERSION OF A FRAGMENT OF SIMONIDES. THE night winds howled-the billows dashed Against the tossing chest ; And Danaë to her broken heart Her slumbering infant pressed. "My little child"-in tears she said To wake and weep is mine, But thou canst sleep-thou dost not know Thy mother's lot, and thine. "The moon is up, the moonbeams smile They tremble on the main; But dark, within my floating cell, To me they smile in vain. 231 "Thy folded mantle wraps thee warm, "As o'er thy sweet unconscious face I think, didst thou but know thy fate, "Yet, dear one, sleep, and sleep, ye winds That vex the restless brine When shall these eyes, my babe, be sealed As peacefully as thine!" FROM THE SPANISH OF VILLEGAS. 233 FROM THE SPANISH OF VILLEGAS. 'Tis sweet, in the green Spring, To gaze upon the wakening fields around; Birds in the thicket sing, Winds whisper, waters prattle from the ground; Breathed up from blossoms of a thousand dyes. Shadowy, and close, and cool, The pine and poplar keep their quiet nook; Shines, at their feet, the thirst-inviting brook; S read for a place of banquets and of dreams. Thou, who alone art fair, And whom alone I love, art far away. Unless thy smile be there, It makes me sad to see the earth so gay; I care not if the train Of leaves, and flowers, and zephyrs go again. |