When the door closed upon us, and not 'till then, Timothy Crop loosened his hold upon my raiment. I turned to look at him, and saw sufficient proof that my blows, although aimed in the dark, had not been made in vain. His visage exhibited various contusions, and streams of _claret_ were trickling from his nostrils. But Timothy, to do him justice, was true _game_; and he returned the smile which his pickle brought into my face, with a triumphant expression that raised him much in my estimation. While we were eyeing each other an inner door opened, and the captain of the watch made his appearance. Timothy gave me in charge, and the man of authority conducted me with all due ceremony into his innermost den, where he invited me to take a seat by the stove, and pointing to a dirty straw pallet in a corner of the room, gave me to understand that upon it I was to spend my first night in a watch-house. For the Southern Literary Messenger. The following translations pretend to no other merit than fidelity. The only aim of the translator has been to give as literal a version as the genius of the languages would permit. He has not presumed to blend his own with the pure conception of his author, or to obscure with ornament the inimitable beauty of his chaste, unaffected expression; he regrets that the necessity of a measure has obliged him more than once perhaps, to expand a thought whose concentration he admired:--the sin, however, was involuntary. Lib. 1. Ode v. AD PYRRHAM. Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro? Cui flavam religas comam, Simplex munditiis? heu! quoties fidem, Mutatosque Deos flebit, et aspera Nigris æquora ventis Emirabitur insolens, Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aureâ: Qui semper vacuam, semper amabilem Sperat, nescius auræ Fallacis! miseri, quibus Intenta nites. Me tabulâ sacer Votivâ paries indicat uvida Suspendisse potenti Vestimenta maris Deo. Translation. What slender youth whom liquid odors lave, Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave Pyrrha?--for whom with care Bind'st thou thy yellow hair Plain in thy neatness? Oft alas! shall he On faith and changed Gods complain, and sea Rough with black tempests ire Unwonted shall admire! Who now enjoys thee credulous--all gold-- For him still vacant, lovely to behold Hopes thee: of treacherous breeze Unmindful. Hapless these To whom untried thou shinest dazzling fair. Me Neptune's walls, with tablet vowed, declare My shipwrecked weeds unwrung To the sea's potent God to have hung. * * * * * ADRIANUS AD ANINAVULAM. Animula, vagula, blandula; Hospes, comesque corporis! Quo nunc abibis in loco Pallidula, rigida, nudula? Nec ut soles dabis jocos. Translation.