“Ah, how long ’tis since I went “First in search o’er earth’s wide face! “Titan, all thy rays I sent, “Seeking for the loved one’s trace! “Of that form so dear, no ray “Hath as yet brought news to me, “And the all-discerning Day “Cannot yet the lost one see. “Hast thou, Zeus, her from me torn? “Or to Orcus’ gloomy stream, “Hath she been by Pluto borne, “Smitten by her beauty’s beams? “Who will to yon dreary strand “Be the herald of my woe? “Ever leaves the bark the land, “Yet but shadows in it go. “To each blest eye evermore “Closed those night-like fields remain; “Styx no living form e’er bore, “Since his stream first wash’d the plain. “Thousand paths lead downward there, “None lead up again to light; “And her tears no witness e’er “Brings to her sad mother’s sight.” IV. “Ceres! my good wife’s relation! “Prythee cease to weep and call so! “I now grant your application-- “I have suffer’d greatly also! “Comfort take! we’ll share your daughter’s “Sweet society, and let her “Have on earth six months her quarters “Yearly, if you like it better. “She, when men in summer swelter, “Can assist your rural labours, “‘Neath a straw hat taking shelter, “Flow’r-bedizen’d, like her neighbours’. “She can rant, when colours glowing “Robe the evening sky in splendour, “When beside the stream is blowing “On his flute a bumpkin tender. “She’ll rejoice with lads and lasses “At the harvest-home’s gay dances, “And amongst the sheep and asses “Be a lioness, the chance is. “I’ll recruit my spirits sinking “Here in Orcus in a canter, “Mingled punch and Lethe drinking, “And forget my wife instanter!” V. “Methinks at times thy brow is shaded “With yearnings that in secret dwell; “Thy hapless lot I know full well; “Lost love, a life untimely faded! “Thou nodd’st a sad assent! I never “Can give thee back thy youthful prime; “Thy heart’s woes cannot heal with time: “A faded life, love lost for ever!” 15. MISCELLANIES. 1. MULEDOM. Thy father, as is known to all, A donkey was, beyond denial; Thy mother on the other hand A noble brood-mare proved on trial. Thy mulish nature, worthy friend, Though little liked, a thing of course is; Yet thou canst say, with perfect truth, That thou belongest to the horses. Thou spring’st from proud Bucephalus; Thy fathers were with the invaders Who to the Holy Sepulchre Of old time went, the famed Crusaders. Thou countest ’mongst thy relatives The charger ridden by the glorious Sir Godfrey of Bouillon the day He took God’s town with arm victorious.