DIOG. Because it was as far from my tub to your palace as from your palace to my tub.

ALEX. Why, then? Dost thou owe no reverence to kings?

DIOG. NO.

ALEX. Why so?

DIOG. Because they be no gods. ALEX. They be gods of the earth. DIOG. Yea, gods of earth.

ALEX. Plato is not of thy mind. DIOG. I am glad of it.

ALEX. Why?

DIOG. Because I would have none of Diogenes' mind, but Diogenes.

ALEX. If Alexander have anything that may pleasure Diogenes, let me know, and take it.

DIOG. Then take not from me that you cannot give me the light of the world. ALEX. What dost thou want?

DIOG. Nothing that you have.

ALEX. I have the world at command.
DIOG. And I in contempt.

ALEX. Thou shalt live no longer than I will.

DIOG. But I shall die whether you will

NOTHING ON EARTH PERMANENT. HEN Wisdom again

THEN

His treasury of words unlocked, Sung various maxims,

And thus expressed himself:

When the sun

Clearest shines,

Serenest in the heaven,

Quickly are obscured
Over the earth
All other stars;

Because their brightness is not
Brightness at all,
Compared with
The sun's light.

When mild blows

The south and western wind
Under the clouds,

Then quickly grow
The flowers of the field,
Joyful that they may :
But the stark storm,
When it strong comes
From north and east,

It quickly takes away
The beauty of the rose.
And also the northern storm,
Constrained by necessity,
That it is strongly agitated
Lashes the spacious sea
Against the shore.
Alas! that on earth
Aught of permanent
Work in the world
Does not ever remain."

From METRES OF BOETHIUS.
Trans. of ALFRED THE GREAT.

DELIGHTFUL task to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot!

he left us,

Just for a ribbon to stick

in his coat

Found the one gift of which

Fortune bereft us,

Lost all the others she lets

us devote.

They, with the gold to give,

doled him out silver,

So much was theirs who so little allowed.

How all our copper had gone for his service! Rags were they purple, his heart had

been proud.

And my soul cries out in its bitter pain

For the bliss that cannot be

For the love that never can come again,

Right merry was I every day,
Fearless to run about and play

With sisters, brother, friends and ali

vain,

To join the ring, to speed the chase,

My thoughts, like yours, are often glad;
Parents I have, who love me well:
Their different voices I can tell;
Though far away from them, I hear,
In dreams, their music meet my ear.
Is there a star so dear above
As the low voice of one you love?

I never saw my father's face,
Yet on his forehead, when I place
My hand and feel the wrinkles there-
Left less by time than anxious care-
I fear the world has sights of woe,
To knit the brows of manhood so;

I sit upon my father's knee:
He'd love me less if I could see.

I never saw my mother smile:
Her gentle tones my heart beguile;
They fall like distant melody,
They are so mild and sweet to me.
She murmurs not, my mother dear,
Though sometimes I have kissed the tear
From her soft cheek, to tell the joy
One smiling word would give her boy.

Beneath the blast the forests bend,
And thick the branchy ruin lies
And wide the shower of foliage flies;
The lake's black waves in tumult blend,
Revolving o'er and o'er and o'er
And foaming on the rocky shore,
Whose caverns echo to their roar.

The sight sublime enrapts my thought,
And swift along the past it strays
And much of strange event surveys-
What history's faithful tongue has taught,
Or fancy formed, whose plastic skill
The page with fabled change can fill
Of ill to good or good to ill.

But can my soul the scene enjoy
That rends another's breast with pain?
Oh, hapless he who, near the main,
Now sees its billowy rage destroy,
Beholds the foundering bark descend,
Nor knows but what its fate may end
The moments of his dearest friend.

JOHN SCOTT.

While rock and glen and cave and coast
Shook with the war-cry of that host,

The thunder of their feet;
He heard the imperial echoes ring—
He heard, and felt himself a king.

I saw him next alone, nor camp

Nor chief his steps attended; Nor banner blazed, nor courser's tramp With war-cries proudly blended. He stood alone whom fortune high So lately seemed to deify;

He who with Heaven contended. Fled like a fugitive and slaveBehind, the foe; before, the wave.

He stood-fleet, army, treasure, gone― Alone, and in despair,

While wave and wind swept ruthless on

For they were monarchs there, And Xerxes in a single bark,

'Where late his thousand ships were dark,

Must all their fury dare. What a revenge, a trophy, this,

For thee, immortal Salamis !