TRANSLATIONS OF GREEK VERSES. [BEGUN AUGUST 1799.] FROM THE GREEK OF JULIANUS. A SPARTAN, his companions slain, Alone from battle fled, His mother kindling with disdain That she had borne him, struck him dead; For courage, and not birth alone, In Sparta, testifies a son! ON THE SAME BY PALLAADAS. A SPARTAN 'scaping from the fight, And thus the fugitive address'd: "Thou canst but live to blot with shame "Indelible thy mother's name, "While ev'ry breath, that thou shalt draw, "Offends against thy country's law; 66 But, if thou perish by this hand, Myself indeed throughout the land, "To my dishonour, shall be known "The mother still of such a son, "But Sparta will be safe and free, "And that shall serve to comfort me." AN EPITAPH My name-my country-what are they to thee? What, whether base or proud, my pedigree? Perhaps I far surpass'd all other men Perhaps I fell below them all-what then? Suffice it, stranger! that thou seest a tomb Thou know'st its use-it hides-no matter whom. ANOTHER. TAKE to thy bosom, gentle earth, a swain He fill'd with grain the glebe; the rills he led Thro' this green herbage, and those fruitful bow'rs; Thou, therefore, earth! lie lightly on his head, His hoary head, and deck his grave with flow'rs. ANOTHER. PAINTER, this likeness is too strong, And we shall mourn the dead too long. ANOTHER. Ar threescore winters' end I died A cheerless being, sole and sad; The nuptial knot I never tied, BY CALLIMACHUS. Ar morn we plac'd on his funereal bier Unable to sustain a loss so dear, By her own hand his blooming sister died. Thus Aristippus mourn'd his noble race, Annihilated by a double blow, Nor son could hope, nor daughter more t'em brace, And all Cyrene sadden'd at his wo. ON MILTIADES. MILTIADES! thy valour best (Although in every region known) ON AN INFANT. BEWAIL not much, my parents! me, the prey An infant, in my fifth scarce finish'd year, |