THE HARPY

They certainly contrived to raise
Queer ladies in the olden days.
Either the type had not been fixed,
Or else Zoölogy got mixed.
I envy not primeval man
This female on the feathered plan.
We only have, I'm glad to say,
Two kinds of human birds today—
Women and warriors, who still
Wear feathers when dressed up to kill. —Oliver Herford

[CUPID AND THE BEE]

Anacreon[6]
Young Cupid once a rose caressed,
And sportively its leaflets pressed.
The witching thing, so fair to view
One could not but believe it true,
Warmed, on its bosom false, a bee,
Which stung the boy-god in his glee.
Sobbing, he raised his pinions bright,
And flew unto the isle of light,
Where, in her beauty, myrtle-crowned,
The Paphian goddess sat enthroned.
Her Cupid sought, and to her breast
His wounded finger, weeping, pressed.
"O mother! kiss me," was his cry—
"O mother! save me, or I die;
A winged little snake or bee
With cruel sting has wounded me!"
The blooming goddess in her arms
Folded and kissed his budding charms;
To her soft bosom pressed her pride,
And then with truthful words replied:
"If thus a little insect thing
Can pain thee with its tiny sting,
How languish, think you, those who smart
Beneath my Cupid's cruel dart?
How fatal must that poison prove
That rankles on the shafts of Love."

[THE ASSEMBLY OF THE GODS]

O'er rolling stars, from heavenly stalls advancing,
The coaches soon were seen, and a long train Of mules with litters, horses fleet and prancing,
Their trappings all embroidery, nothing plain; And with fine liveries, in the sunbeams glancing,
More than a hundred servants, rather vain Of handsome looks and of their stature tall,
Followed their masters to the Council Hall. First came the Prince of Delos, Phoebus hight,
In a gay travelling carriage, fleetly drawn By six smart Spanish chestnuts, shining bright,
Which with their tramping shook the aerial lawn; Red was his cloak, three-cocked his hat, and light
Around his neck the golden fleece was thrown; And twenty-four sweet damsels, nectar-sippers,
Were running near him in their pumps or slippers. Pallas, with lovely but disdainful mien,
Came on a nag of Basignanian race; Tight round her leg, and gathered up, was seen
Her gown, half Greek, half Spanish; o'er her face Part of her hair hung loose, a natural screen,
Part was tied up, and with becoming grace; A bunch of feathers on her head she wore,
And on her saddle-bow her falchion bore. But Ceres and the God of Wine appeared
At once, conversing; and the God of Ocean Upon a dolphin's back his form upreared,
Floating through waves of air with graceful motion; Naked, all sea-weed, and with mud besmeared;
For whom his mother Rhea feels emotion, Reproaching his proud brother, when she meets him,
Because so like a fisherman he treats him. Diana, the sweet virgin, was not there;
She had risen early and o'er woodland green Had gone to wash her clothes in fountain fair
Upon the Tuscan shore—romantic scene. And not returning till the northern star
Had rolled through dusky air and lost its sheen, Her mother made excuses quite provoking,
Knitting at the time, a worsted stocking. Juno-Lucina did not go—and why?
She anxious wished to wash her sacred head. Menippus, Jove's chief taster, standing by
For the disastrous Fates excuses made. They had much tow to spin, and lint to dry,
And they were also busy baking bread. The cellarman, Silenus, kept away,
To water the domestics' wine, that day. On starry benches sit the famous warriors
Of the immortal kingdom, in a ring; Now drums and cymbals, echoing to the barriers,
Announce the coming of the gorgeous king; A hundred pages, valets, napkin-carriers
Attend, and their peculiar offerings bring. And after them, armed with his club so hard,
Alcides, captain of the city guard. With Jove's broad hat and spectacles arrived
The light-heeled Mercury; in his hand he bore A sack, in which, of other means deprived,
He damned poor mortals' prayers, some million score; Those he disposed in vessels, well contrived,
Which graced his father's cabinet of yore; And, wont attention to all claims to pay,
He regularly signed them twice a day. Then Jove himself, in royal habit dressed,
With starry diadem upon his head, And o'er his shoulders an imperial vest
Worn upon holidays.—The king displayed A sceptre, pastoral shape, with hooked crest:
In a rich jacket too was he arrayed, Given by the inhabitants of Sericane,
And Ganymede held up his splendid train. —A. Tassoni

[A MODEL YOUNG LADY OF ANTIQUITY]

(Pliny, the Younger, writes the following in a letter relative to the death of Minicia Marcella, the daughter of his friend, Fundanus.)

Tristissimus haec tibi scribo, Fundani nostri filia minore defuncta, qua puella nihil umquam festivius, amabilius, nec modo longiore vita sed prope immortalitate dignius vidi. Nondum annos quattuor decem impleverat, et iam illi anilis prudentia, matronalis gravitas erat, et tamen suavitas puellaris cum virginali verecundia. Ut illa patris cervicibus inhaerebat! Ut nos amicos paternos et amanter et modeste complectabatur! ut nutrices, ut paedagogos, ut praeceptores, pro suo quemque officio diligebat! quam studiose, quam intellegenter lectitabat! ut parce custoditeque ludebat! Qua illa temperantia, qua patientia, qua etiam constantia novissimam valetudinem tulit! Medicis obsequebatur, sororem, patrem adhortabatur, ipsamque se destitutam corporis viribus vigore animi sustinebat. Duravit hic illi usque ad extremum nec aut spatio valetudinis aut metu mortis infractus est, quo plures gravioresque nobis causas relinqueret et desiderii et doloris. O triste plane acerbumque funus! O morte ipsa mortis tempus indignius! Iam destinata erat egregio iuveni, iam electus nuptiarum dies, iam nos vocati. Quod gaudium quo maerore mutatum est! Nec possum exprimere verbis quantum anima vulnus acceperim, cum audivi Fundanum ipsum, praecipientem, quod in vestes margarita gemmas fuerat erogaturus, hoc in tus et unguenta et odores impenderetur.