Clung, but, in sudden wrath, cried he:

And there men stoned Pisidicê.

Amid the myrtles of the shore,

Love's outcast now and evermore.

Their hour of dear-bought love; but thee

To dreamless rest, Pisidicê!

[1] From the Romaic.

[1]

 SONNETS.

 THE ODYSSEY. As one that for a weary space has lain Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, Where that Ææan isle forgets the main, And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine, As such an one were glad to know the brine Salt on his lips, and the large air again,— So gladly, from the songs of modern speech Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers, And through the music of the languid hours, They hear like ocean on a western beach The surge and thunder of the Odyssey. 

Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine

In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,

And only shadows of wan lovers pine,

As such an one were glad to know the brine

Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free

Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,

And through the music of the languid hours,

The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.

 TWO SONNETS OF THE SIRENS.   "Les Sirènes estoient tant intimes amies et fidelles compagnes de Proserpine, qu'elles estoient toujours ensemble. Esmues du juste deuil de la perte de leur chère compagne, et enuyées jusques au desespoir, elles s'arrestèrent à la mer Sicilienne, où par leurs chants elles attiroient les navigans, mais 

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