TRANSLATION FROM SHERIDAN, ETC.

(Vol. viii, p. 563.)

I cannot furnish Balliolensis with the translation from Sheridan he requires, but I am acquainted with that from Goldsmith. It is to be found somewhere in Valpy's Classical Journal. As that work is in forty volumes, and not at hand, I am not able to give a more precise reference. I recollect, however, a few of the lines at the beginning:

"Incola deserti, gressus refer, atque precanti

Sis mihi noctivagæ dux, bone amice, viæ;

Dirige quà lampas solatia luce benigna

Præbet, et hospitii munera grata sui.

Solus enim tristisque puer deserta per agro,

Ægre membra trahens deficiente pede,

Quà, spatiis circum immensis porrecta, patescunt

Me visa augeri progrediente, loca."

"Ulterius ne perge," senex, "jam mitte vagari,

Teque iterum noctis, credere, amice, dolis:

Luce trahit species certa in discrimina fati,

Ah nimium nescis quo malefida trahat!

Hic inopi domus, hic requies datur usque vaganti,

Parvaque quantumvis dona, libente manu.

Ergo verte pedes, caliginis imminet hora,

Sume libens quidquid parvula cella tenet ..."

No doubt there is a copy of the Classical Journal in the Bodleian; and if Balliolensis can give me volume and page, I in turn shall be much obliged to him.

Hypatia.

The lines to which your correspondent Balliolensis refers—

"Conscia ni dextram dextera pressa premat."

are a translation of the song in Sheridan's Duenna, Act I. Sc. 2., beginning—

"I ne'er could any lustre see," &c.

They were done by Marmaduke Lawson, of St. John's College, Cambridge, for the Pitt Scholarship in 1814, for which he was successful:

"Phyllidis effugiunt nos lumina. Dulcia sunto.

Pulcra licet, nobis haud ea pulcra micant.

Nectar erat labiis, dum spes erat ista tenendi,

Spes perit, isque simul, qui erat ante, decor.

Votis me Galatea petit. Caret arte puella,

Parque rosis tenero vernat in ore color:

Sed nihil ista juvant. Forsan tamen ista juvabunt.

Si jaceant, victâ mente, rubore genæ:

Pura manus mollisque fluit. Neque credere possum.

Ut sit vera fides, ista premenda mihi est.

Nec bene credit amor (nam res est plena timoris),

Conscia ni dextram dextera pressa premat.

Ecce movet pectus suspiria. Pectora nostris

Ista legenda oculis, si meus urat amor.

Et, nostri modo cura memor nostrique caloris

Tangat eam, facere id non pudor ullus erit."

I have not sent the English, as it can be easily got at. The other translation I am not acquainted with.