THE "FIRST HUNDRED" OF LOEB.
[The Loeb Classical Library, founded by a munificent American millionaire, Mr. James Loeb (prononcez "Lobe"), and edited by Dr. E. Capps, Mr. T. E. Page and Dr. W. H. D. Rouse, has now reached its hundredth volume.]
When ways are foul and days are damp,
When agitators rage and ramp,
And Smillie, with the aid of Cramp,
Threatens to rend the globe;
When margarine is scarce, or beef,
And drinks are dear and few and brief,
I find refreshment and relief
And comfort in my Loeb.
Good print, good company, a text
By no vain annotations vexed
Which call from students sore perplexed
The patience of a Job;
And, page by page, a first-rate crib,
Neither too faithful nor too glib—
That, without fulsomeness or fib,
Is what we get in Loeb.
Let scientists on various fronts
Indulge in their atomic stunts,
Or harness to our prams and punts
The puissant radiobe;
Me rather it delights to roam
Across the salt Ægean foam
With old Odysseus, far from home,
And bless the name of Loeb.
To soar with Plato to the heights;
To find in Plutarch's kings and knights
The human touch that more delights
Than crown or regal robe;
To taste the fresh Pierian springs,
To see Catullus scorch his wings
With the fierce flame that sears and stings—
For this I thank thee, Loeb.
I've made no fortune out of beer;
I'm not a plutocrat or peer,
Nor yet a bloated profiteer,
An OM or e'en an OBE;
But if I'd thirty pounds to spare
I'd go and blow them then and there
Upon the Hundred Books that bear
The sign and seal of Loeb.
