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“Each hour a mercenary crowd
“In humble, simplest habit clad,
“Nor wealth nor power had he; "Wisdom and worth were all he had, "But these were all to me.
"The blossom opening to the day,
“The dew, the blossom on the trec, "With charms inconstant shine; "Their charms were his, but, woe to me! "Their constancy was mine.
"For still I try'd each fickle art, "Importunate and vain :
"And while his passion touch'd my heart, "I triumph'd in his pain.
“Till quite dejected with my scorn,
"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
" And well life shall pay; my "I'll seek the solitude he sought, "And stretch me where he lay.
"And there forlorn despairing hid,
"I'll lay me down and die: ""Twas so for me that Edwin did, "And so for him will I."
"Forbid it, Heaven!" the hermit cry'd, And clasp'd her to his breast: The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide, " "Twas Edwin's self that press'd.
"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see "Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, "Restor❜d to love and thee.
Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And shall we never, never part,
"No, never from this hour to part; "We'll live and love so true;
"The sigh that rends thy constant heart "Shall break thy Edwin's too."
EUPOLIS' HYMN TO THE CREATOR.
FROM THE GRERK.
AUTHOR of Being, source of light,
Thee, when morning greets the skies
Yonder azure vault on high,
Yonder blue, low, liquid sky,
Earth on its firm basis plac'd,
All their mighty Maker bless.
Sea, earth, and air, confess thee GOD!
Scarce can our daring thought arise
(For thee their silver harps are strung)
Ever beauteous, ever young.
Angelic forms their voices raise,
And thro' heaven's arch resound thy praise.
The feather'd souls that swim the air,
And ere to soft repose they go,
Source of light, thou bid'st the sun
The stars like dust around him fly,
Eiresione, we'll no more
Thy herbage, O great Pan, sustains The flocks that graze our Attic plains: The olive, with fresh verdure crown'd, Rises pregnant from the ground;