4 No savage more portentous stain'd Apulia's spacious wilds with gore; None fiercer Juba's thirsty land, Dire nurse of raging lions, bore. 5 Place me where no soft summer gale Among the quivering branches sighs; Where clouds condensed for ever veil With horrid gloom the frowning skies: 6 Place me beneath the burning line, A clime denied to human race; I'll sing of Chlöe's charms divine, Her heavenly voice, and beauteous face. * * * * * TRANSLATION OF HORACE. BOOK II. ODE IX. 1 Clouds do not always veil the skies, Nor showers immerse the verdant plain; Nor do the billows always rise, Or storms afflict the ruffled main. 2 Nor, Valgius, on the Armenian shores Do the chain'd waters always freeze; Not always furious Boreas roars, Or bends with violent force the trees. 3 But you are ever drown'd in tears, For Mystes dead you ever mourn; No setting Sol can ease your cares, But finds you sad at his return. 4 The wise, experienced Grecian sage Mourn'd not Antilochus so long; Nor did King Priam's hoary age So much lament his slaughter'd son. 5 Leave off, at length, these woman's sighs, Augustus' numerous trophies sing; Repeat that prince's victories, To whom all nations tribute bring. 6 Niphates rolls an humbler wave, At length the undaunted Scythian yields, Content to live the Romans' slave, And scarce forsakes his native fields. * * * * * TRANSLATION OF PART OF THE DIALOGUE BETWEEN HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.--FROM THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD.