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Page 50 text:
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TRANSLATIONS Qlirom lbe Greek of Meleagerj Everywhere on earth a tear for you will I shed Heliodora, yea, sadly wept tears shall pour into Hades. Beside your tomb shall How a stream of mourning after the dead. For sadly, ah, sadly, do I, Meleager, lament my dear Who walks among the shades, on graceless Acheron's shore. Alas, alas for my child! Where is she? She is not here. Hades has seized her, has seized her. The flower is laid in the dust. O earth, O nurse of mankind, O mother, embrace most gently The maiden bewept of all men who is given into your trust. BETSY WYCKOFF flirom lhe Greek of Czllli.ffl'dlll.fD I shall carry today my myrtle-covered sword Like the two young men who killed the usurping lord And made the Athenians equal men and free. O dearest Harmodius, men say that you have not died, But dwell in the blessed isles of the sea Witli swift Achilles and Diomed standing at your side. I shall carry today my myrtle-covered sword Like the two young men who killed Hipparchus, the lord, At the time of the feast the Athenian people decree. Your fame forever and ever upon our earth shall abide O two young men who killed the usurping lord And made the Athenians equal men and free. BETSY WYCKOFF i 46 I
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Page 49 text:
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Page 51 text:
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THE DEATH OF LESBlA'S SPARROW flirom the Latin of Catullurj O Venus and O Cupid, mourn Where'er you be! And everyone Who claims to be of mortal born, All nature under the bright sun. The sparrow of my lady dear Has died. It was her sole delight. She nevermore his song shall hear Though this was dearer than her sight. As honey sweet this sparrow was, And ne'er ignored its mistress, for She was a mother to him, as Each day she loved him all the more. RUTH LAMBERT SON N ET Uirom the French of Louise Labij While that my eyes with tears unshed are wet, And I regret past happiness with you, O just as long as, sobbing, sighing, too, Both quieted, my voice can be heard yet, And just as long as, guided by my hand, The gentle lute about your graces sings' And just as long as to my soul it brings Contentment, to desire, to understand Nothing save you, I shall not wish to die. But when I feel my weeping eyes are dry, My voice is hushed, my hand is powerless, And all my soul, in this our mortal stay, Can show no longer any tenderness, Then may death darken my serenest day. ! BERYL DAWSON l 471
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