We are not well satisfied with 'tam mihi sic animo' in the last distich; and would prefer reading it thus:

'Quamque oculis olim, tam menti nunc quoque fulgent,
Quas placido Medus præfluit amne, rosæ.'

'As lamps burn silent with unconscious

light,

So modest ease in beauty shines most bright:

Unaiming charms with edge resistless fall,

And she, who meant no mischief, does it all.'

Ut silet ipsa suum nescitque lucerna nitorem,

Forma verecunda simplicitate decet : Quæ temere, hæc certa jaculatur pulcra sagitta;

Et gravius, quæ non vult tetigisse,
ferit.'-Pp. 162, 163.

'Aureus est, mea lux! qui te mihi jungit amantem,
Annulus exemplum, quod moneamur, habet.
Aureus in sese velut hic redit orbis eundem,
Aurea perpetuo sic eat orbe fides !'-P. 241.
Tangere si qua potest viventûm cura sepultos,
Nec pia dat tumulo munus inane fides;
Hanc cape rorantem lacrymis, mea nata, corollam,
Carpta semel nulla quæ revirescet aqua.
Has cape, nata, rosas, similes quas viva colebas
Ipsa tibi, pulcras pulcra, brevisque breves.
Hei mihi! prima cadit toto rosa gratior horto:
Gratior et cunctis prima puella cadit !

Te tamen ornabit vivax post funera virtus;

Ut manet in sicco flore superstes odor.'

Mr. Holden, now Head Master of Uppingham School, holds a high rank among the Choreutæ of the Oxford Anthologia. His translations of Cowper's Boadicea, and of Glover's political ballad, Hosier's Ghost, (why has not Mr. Linwood assigned it to its acknowledged author?) are both in very masterly style. Nor is he less successful with Scott's description of Melrose Abbey.

'If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 'Si vis Melrosam, quam sit formosa

Go, visit it by the pale moonlight;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.

When the broken arches are black in
night,

And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
When the cold light's uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower;
When buttress and buttress, alternately,
Seem framed of ebon and ivory;
When silver edges the imagery,

And scrolls that teach thee to live and
die;

When distant Tweed is heard to rave,
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's

grave,

Then go but go alone the while-
Then view St. David's ruined pile;
And, home returning, soothly swear
Was never scene so sad and fair.'

tueri,

We give ample credit to the ability shown by Mr. Holden in his Greek Sapphic version of Campbell's Last Man; but modern Greek Sapphics give us little pleasure. The few surviving fragments of ancient Sapphic poetry are insufficient to supply us with a model of style and dialect: and for this reason it is much to be regretted that Sir W. Browne's mistaken kindness should have inflicted on Cambridge an annual Prize Poem in this metre.

Mr. James Lonsdale's prolusions show him to be a worthy inheritor of his father's exquisite taste and learning. After so many Elegiac extracts, we are glad to have an opportunity of citing a good Virgilian passage:

'Meanwhile the south-wind rose, and with black wings

Wide-hovering, all the clouds together drove

From under Heaven; the hills to their supply

Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist, Sent up amain; and now the thickened sky

'Interea assurgens nigris Notus evolat alis,

Tellurem late complexus, et æthere ab omni

Miscet agens una nubes; alimenta ministrant

Et madidas colles nebulas, fuscumque

vaporem

Summittunt; et jam densatus nubibus

aër

In Greek Versification the Coryphæus is Mr. Riddell of Balliol. All this gentleman's compositions are executed in a masterly manner, redolent alike of sound learning and refined taste. The following are charming specimens:

Ye were aye leal and true, Jean;
Your task's ended noo, Jean,
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.
Our bonny bairn's there, Jean;
She was both guid and fair, Jean ;
O ! we grudged her right sair

To the land o' the leal.

Then dry that tearfu' ee, Jean;
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me

To the land o' the leal.
Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
This warld's care is vain, Jean;
We'll meet and aye be fain
In the land o' the leal.'

Burns.

We have already quoted, with especial commendation, a Latin translation of Shakspeare by Mr. Jones of Queen's: the subjoined specimen will show that this gentleman is not less happy in Greek composition:

Among the other names which grace Mr. Linwood's collection we find those of Mr. C. Wordsworth, Mr. Butler, Mr. Lingen, the Messrs. Palmer, &c. Their several contributions, παῦρα μὲν ἀλλὰ μάλα λιγέως, are just enough to whet our appetite for the larger banquet, which we anticipate in a second edition. The Editor himself, with what we cannot help calling an excess of modesty, has given us very little from his own stores. The author of the following beautiful translation need fear neither invidious comparison with others, nor the Catullian reproach of being too much a poet.'

I knew how much he felt;
For his deep-toned voice faltered.

I wore my bridal robe,

And I rivalled its whiteness; Bright gems were in my hair, How I hated their brightness !

He called me by my name,
As the bride of another:
Oh! thou hast been the cause
Of this anguish, my mother !

And once again we met;

And a fair girl was near him : He smiled, and whispered low,

As I once used to hear him.

She leaned upon his arm;

Once 't was mine, and mine only : I wept; for I deserved

To feel wretched and lonely.

And she will be his bride!

At the altar he'll give her The love that was too pure For a heartless deceiver.

The world may think me gay;
For my feelings I smother:
Ah ! thou hast been the cause
Of this anguish, my mother!'
W. Haynes Bayley.

ἀλλ ̓ οὐ μὰν γὰρ ἔληθέ μ' ἔχων μάλα κήδεα θυμῷ

οὐ γὰρ ἔτ ̓ ἀστεμφὲς φώνεεν, ὡς ἐφίλει. λευκὸς μέν μοι πέπλος ἔην, νυμφεῖον ἄγαλμα,

τοῦ δ ̓ ἐφάνην αὐτὴ καὶ πολὺ λευκοτέρη. κόσμοισιν δ' ήσκηντο κόμαι πολλοῖσι φαεινοῖς,

ὡς δ ̓ ἐμοὶ ἐξ αὐτῶν στυγνὸν ἔλαμπε σέλας.

καὶ τότε φωνήσας σεμνήν μ ̓ ὀνόμῃνε δάμαρτα,

μῆτερ ἐμή, σὺ δὲ τῶνδ ̓ αἴτιον ἐσσὶ κακῶν.

Καὶ πάλιν αὖθις ἴδον. καλὴ δὲ παρίστατο κούρη

χείλεσι δ ̓ ἐν μαλακοῖς ἡδὺς ἔπαιζε γέλως.

ὡς καὶ ἐγὼ γελόωντος ἴδον ποτὲ φαιδρὰ πρόσωπα

ἦκα δ ̓ ἀπὸ γλώσσης ἔρρεεν αὖθις ἔπη. χειρὶ δ ̓ ἐρειδομένη, τῇ ἐγὼ πάρος ἠρηρείσμην,

εἴχετο,φεῦ λυγρῆς ἡ μ' ἕλεν ἀμπλακίης.

δὴ τότε δάκρυα θερμὰ χέον, καὶ γάρ τ' ἐνόησα

ὡς χάρις ἡ πρόσθεν πᾶσ ̓ ἀπόλωλε βίου. καὶ τήνδ ̓ ἂρ γαμέει· τῇδ ̓ ὅρκια πιστὰ ταμόντων

ἀμφοτέρων, ἔσεται κοινὸς ἐσαιὲν ἔρως. ὡς ὄφελέν ποτ' ἐμοί-τί δὲ ταῦτ ̓, ἀεσί

φρον, ἀλύεις ;

σοῦ γ ̓ ἔλαχεν πολλῷ πιστοτέρην ἄλο

Here we must bid farewell to the Oxford Anthologia; and at the same time we would express our earnest hope that Latin and Greek versification may never cease to flourish in our English schools and colleges. We know no better method of training the youthful mind to that sense of grace and beauty, the development of which we hold to be one of the great purposes of education. The theoretical arguments by which this opinion may be supported are too large for our present limits. But we believe that few, if any, of our readers will be disposed to question the value and efficiency of those intellectual exercises which powerfully assisted in training to their full grandeur such minds (among many) as those of Milton and Gray, Barrow, Johnson, and Hallam, Grenville, Wellesley, and Canning.