The so-called HOMERIC HYMNS, which the ancients believed to be the work of Homer, if somewhat inferior in age to the Iliad and Odyssey, are undoubtedly older than the pieces named above. Those addressed to Apollo, Mercury, Venus, and Ceres, the finest in the collection, are regular poems of some length; the others are simple eulogies or brief preludes to longer pieces. The Hymn to Venus has a tenderness and warmth not unworthy of Homer. The one in honor of Ceres relates the abduction of her daughter Pros’erpine by Pluto, king of the lower world, the mother’s search for the stolen maiden, her anger on discovering the ravisher, and the final arrangement that the goddess shall enjoy the society of her daughter during two-thirds of the year. As a favorable specimen of its style, we cite the lines that follow:— THE ABDUCTION OF PROSERPINE. “In Nysia’s vale, with nymphs a lovely train, Sprung from the hoary father of the main, Fair Proserpine consumed the fleeting hours In pleasing sports, and plucked the gaudy flowers. Around them wide the flamy crocus glows, Through leaves of verdure blooms the opening rose; The hyacinth declines his fragrant head, And purple violets deck th’ enamelled mead. The fair Narcissus far above the rest, By magic formed, in beauty rose confessed. So Jove, t’ ensnare the virgin’s thoughtless mind, And please the ruler of the shades, designed. He caused it from the opening earth to rise, Sweet to the scent, alluring to the eyes. Never did mortal or celestial power Behold such vivid tints adorn a flower. From the deep root a hundred branches sprung, And to the winds ambrosial odors flung; Which, lightly wafted on the wings of air, The gladdened earth and heaven’s wide circuit share. The joy-dispensing fragrance spreads around, And ocean’s briny swell with smiles is crowned. Pleased at the sight, nor deeming danger nigh, The fair beheld it with desiring eye: Her eager hand she stretched to seize the flower, (Beauteous illusion of the ethereal power!) When, dreadful to behold, the rocking ground Disparted—widely yawned a gulf profound! Forth rushing from the black abyss, arose The gloomy monarch of the realm of woes, Pluto, from Saturn sprung. The trembling maid He seized, and to his golden car conveyed. Borne by immortal steeds the chariot flies: And thus she pours her supplicating cries:— ‘Assist, protect me, thou who reign’st above, Supreme and best of gods, paternal Jove!’ But ah! in vain the hapless virgin rears Her wild complaint: nor god nor mortal hears! Not to the white-armed nymphs with beauty crowned, Her loved companions, reached the mournful sound.” HOLE.