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ἔστιν ἐκεῖ πάνθ ̓ ὅσσα διδοῖ Κυθέρεια βροτοῖσι,
καὶ χρυσέα φιλότης, καὶ γλυκύθυμος ἔρως.
ἔστι δ' ἔρις σὺν ἔρωτι, καὶ ἐν φιλότητι μέριμναι
μυρίαι, ἔστι κακῆς ἄλγεα δουλοσύνης.
πῶς οὖν αἱρήσω γάμον, ᾧ κακὰ τόσσα πέφυκε ;
τλήσομαι, ἀλλ ̓ ἀεκὼν τόπλεον, οὐ γὰρ ἑκών.

Eloquiumve oculi aut facunda silentia lingua.

AD

JOHAN. LISTON,

VIRUM LONGE κωμῳδικώτατον.

O qui Democritos theatra tota
A primis cuneis ad usque summum
Fecisti toties, severitatem

Vultus compositi lepore laxans;
Quis possit lateri imperare quasso,
Quis rictum cohibere, si loquensque,
Et clauso pariter jocaris ore?

-Dixistin' aliquid? nihil profecto:
Ergo quid placuit? quid ora vulgi
Motu mirifico repente solvit ?
Comodûm lepidissime, iste vultus
Fons est perpetuus facetiarum :
Si linguam tibi Parca denegasset,
Facundo jocus emicans ocello
Pulmones Britonum magis moveret,
Quam linguæ triplices et ora centum.

G. SELWYN.

PORSONIAN PRIZE.

SHAKSPEARE.

KING JOHN. Act III. Scene III.

KING JOHN. HUBERT.

JOHN. COME hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love:
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath

Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,—
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.
HUB. I am much bounden to your majesty.
JOHN. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet:
But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to say,-But let it go:
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
To give me audience :-If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick;
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes;)

Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But, ah, I will not:- -Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.

IDEM GRÆCE REDDITUM.

ΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣ. ΟΥΒΕΡΤΟΣ.

ΒΑΣ. ΔΕΥΡ' ἐλθὲ, δεῦρ', Οὔβερτε, γενναῖον κάρα·
ὀφείλομέν σοι, φίλτατ', οὐ σμικρὸν χρέος,
ψυχὴ δὲ τῆσδε σαρκὸς ἐν περιπτυχαῖς
ἔνεστιν, ἥτις σῆς ὑπ ̓ εὐνοίας πάλαι
ξύνοιδεν εὖ παθοῦσα, καὶ μέλλει ποτὲ,
εὖ σ ̓ ἀντιδρῶσα, δις τόσην θέσθαι χάριν.
κοὐ σῶν ποθ ̓ ὅρκων, ὧν ἑκὼν κατώμοσας,

μνήμη τέθνηκε, φίλτατ', ἐν δέλτοις δ' ἐμῶν
Φρενῶν ἐσαεὶ ζῶσιν, εὖ γεγραμμένοι.
ἄγ' οὖν, πρότεινε δεξίαν ἐμοὶ χέρα.
εἶχόν τι φωνεῖν· ἀλλὰ ταῦτ ̓ ἀμείνονι
καιρῷ προσάψας, ἐξερῶ· σχεδόν τι γὰρ
αἰδῶς ἀπείργει μ', οὐρανὸν μαρτύρομαι,
εἰπεῖν ὅσην, Οὕβερτε, σοὶ τιμὴν νέμω.
ΟΥΒ. ἄναξ, ὀφείλω τῶνδέ σοι πολλὴν χάριν.
ΒΑΣ. οὔπω τόδ ̓, ὦ φίλ', ἐνδίκως ἔχεις φράσαι,

σάφ ̓ ἴσθι δ ̓, ἕξεις· κἂν βράδισθ ̓ ἕρπῃ χρόνος,
ἥξει ποθ', ἥξει καιρὸς εὖ δρᾶσαί σ', ὅμως.
εἶχόν τι φωνεῖν· ταῦτα δ' οὖν προχαιρέτω
ἤδη γὰρ οἱπίσημος ἡλίου κύκλος
φλέγει δι' αἴθραν, ἡ χλιδῶσά θ' ἡμέρα,
κενῶν ἄγουσα τερψέων ὁμήγυριν,
τρυφῶν τε πληρὴς κἀγλαϊσμάτων, κλύειν
οὐκ ἀξιοῖ πως· εἰ δέ μοι χαλκόστομος
κώδων, σιδηρόγλωσσον ἐκκλάζων ὅπα,
τοῦ νυκτίου δίαυλον ἀγγέλλοι δρόμου,
εἰ χῶρος οὗτος, οὗ καθέσταμεν, τάφων
εἴη τι χῶμα, καὶ παρασταίης σύ μοι
κέντροισι δηχθεὶς μυρίων ὑβρισμάτων,
εἰ δ ̓ ἡ μελαγχολώσα δυσφιλὴς θεὸς
σὸν αἷμ ̓ ἐπήγνυ, κἀτίθει νωθὲς, παχύ,
(ὁ νῦν ἄνω τε καὶ κάτω σκιρτῶν ἀεὶ
κνίζει βροτείου σώματος διαῤῥοὰς,
μωρόν τ ̓ ἐς ἀνδρῶν ὄμματ ̓ ἐμβάλλει γέλων,
χαύνοις τ ̓ ἐπαίρει χάρμασιν παρηΐδας,
ἐνάντιόν τι τοῖς ἐμοῖς βουλεύμασιν·)
εἰ δ ̓ αὖ δύναιό μ ̓ ὀμμάτων ἰδεῖν ἄνευ,
πηγῆς' τ' ἀκοῦσαι τῆς ἀκουούσης άτερ,
γλώσσης τε χωρὶς ἀνταμείψασθαι πάλιν,
ξύνεσίν τιν' ἀσκῶν, τυφλὸς ὤν, ὤτων δίχα,
κακῶν ἄφωνος ῥημάτων, ἐγὼ τότ ̓ ἂν,
οὐδὲν προτιμῶν ἡμέρας φροῦρον σέλας,
κρύφια φράσαιμ ̓ ἂν τἀμά σοι φρονήματα.

νῦν δ ̓ οὐ φράσαιμ' ἄν· καί σ ̓ ὅμως ἀγαν φιλῶ,

καὶ δὴ δοκῶ σὲ προσφιλῶς ἔχειν ἐμοί.

Ι.

B. H. KENNEDY,

COLL. DIV. JOHAN. ET UNIV. SCHOL.

Vid. Soph. Cd. Tyr. 1386.

NECROLOGY.

VOSS.

[From the Bibliothèque Allemande.]

GERMANY has lost one of her greatest writers; the celebrated Voss, who contributed so highly to the splendor of the German Parnassus, is no more. The Germans justly consider the death of this illustrious man as a national loss. Their literary and political journals have been eager to scatter the grave of Voss with flowers; and the writer of these lines, who was honored with the best wishes of the poet whom Germany has just lost, would willingly add his feeble accents to the strain of mourning and regret.

John Henry Voss was born on the 2d February, 1751, at Sommersdorf, in the Grand Duchy of Mecklenburgh. He was in early youth inspired with the love of learning; but he had obstacles to contend with in the narrowness of his means; his father was in a station bordering on absolute poverty. But eminent talents, uncommon diligence, and heroic abstinence from all the enjoyments which young men born in a lap of opulence call necessaries, could not go without their reward. Voss at last procured the means necessary for devoting himself to academical studies. In 1772 he was received into the University of Gottingen. Young Voss was not long in distinguishing himself among the pupils of this excellent institution, which was already well known throughout Europe. He made rapid progress in the ancient languages, and cultivated at the same time the happy talent he had for poetry. It was about this time that there was formed at Gottingen a society of young men, whose names speedily acquired a just celebrity. Voss became a member of this association, in which shone Hoelty, whose elegies breathe a melancholy at once sweet and mournful. It was death which this young poet loved to write about; but Death, in the harmonious verses of Hoelty, does not appear as a hideous spectre, but as a liberating genius, adorned with the flowers of eternal spring. The two Counts de Stollberg, and Miller, author of Siegwart, were parties in this alliance consecrated to friendship, poetry, patriotism, and all generous sentiments. These young friends met on Saturday, and in fine weather, frequently in the open air, under the shade of some

majestic oaks. In the summer, indeed, they assembled in a garden, and prolonged their literary meetings even till sun-rise. Extemporary verses were produced and communicated with enthusiasm as they were spoken. Burger, so well known by his romances and ballads, and Klopstock himself, were honorary members of this poetical society. Voss, in his Life of Hoelty, prefixed to the new edition of the poems of his friend, (published at Hamburgh in 1804,) traces in an interesting manner these recollections of his youth.

Voss lived some time at Hamburgh, and it was there that he published a Poetical Almanack for several years, which was a continuation of that of Gottingen. In 1782, he was named head-master of a school at Eutin; in 1802 he settled at Jena; and finally, in 1805, on the new organization of the University of Heidelberg, the Grand Duke of Baden invited Voss thither, to give the greater celebrity to that institution.

The poetical productions of this author are numerous. Voss knew all the riches of the German language, and possessed in a very high degree the talent of managing and adapting it to the most different kinds of composition. Following the steps of Klopstock, he at last decidedly succeeded in naturalizing in German literature the metrical forms of Greek and Latin prosody, and at the same time showed how easily he could overcome the difficulties of rhyme. The character of Voss developed itself fully in his poetry; in his odes there is a vigor and energy, which, however, is not always without roughness; in his songs there is a frank cordiality, and an enticing gaiety, which always pleases; in his hymns a sweet and impressive piety but it is, above all, in his eclogues, that the genius of Voss shines. Among his compositions of this sort may be cited, Der siebenzigste Geburtstag (The seventieth Birth-day). The chef-d'œuvre of Voss, however, is his Louisa, a pastoral epic; this poem, written in hexameters, is a delightful feast : one meets there by turns with picturesque descriptions of the beauties of nature, traced with the greatest talent, and with family scenes, pervaded by the finest sentiments of filial piety, love, conjugal affection, and religion. A collection of the poems of Voss appeared at Koenisberg in 1802, the last of which contained a treatise on prosody.

:

The industry of Voss was surprising. German literature owes to him a great many translations, of which we may mention that of Virgil, that of a great part of the Metamorphoses of Ovid, those of Horace, Hesiod, and Orpheus, Theocritus, Aristophanes, but, above all, that of the Iliad and Odyssey;

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