fight a very tower, When we join in revelry! When the Grecian ships were fired, By thine arm was safety brought; Yet the man by craft inspired 25 Won the spoils thy valor sought. Peace be to thine ashes blest! Thou wert vanquished not in fight:    Anger 'tis destroys the best,—     Ajax fell by Ajax' might!"     Neoptolemus poured then, To his sire renowned 26 the wine—    "'Mongst the lots of earthly men, Mighty father, prize I thine! Of the goods that life supplies, Greatest far of all is fame; Though to dust the body flies, Yet still lives a noble name. Valiant one, thy glory's ray Will immortal be in song; For, though life may pass away, To all time the dead belong!"     "Since the voice of minstrelsy Speaks not of the vanquished man, I will Hector's witness be,"—     Tydeus' noble son 27 began:    "Fighting bravely in defence Of his household-gods he fell. Great the victor's glory thence, He in purpose did excel! Battling for his altars dear, Sank that rock, no more to rise; E'en the foemen will revere One whose honored name ne'er dies."     Nestor, joyous reveller old, Who three generations saw, Now the leaf-crowned cup of gold Gave to weeping Hecuba.    "Drain the goblet's draught so cool, And forget each painful smart! Bacchus' gifts are wonderful,—     Balsam for a broken heart. Drain the goblet's draught so cool, And forget each painful smart! Bacchus' gifts are wonderful,—     Balsam for a broken heart.     "E'en to Niobe, whom Heaven Loved in wrath to persecute, Respite from her pangs was given, Tasting of the corn's ripe fruit. Whilst the thirsty lip we lave In the foaming, living spring, Buried deep in Lethe's wave Lies all grief, all sorrowing! Whilst the thirsty lip we lave In the foaming, living spring, Swallowed up in Lethe's wave Is all grief, all sorrowing!"     And the Prophetess 28 inspired By her God, upstarted now,—    Toward the smoke of homesteads fired, Looking from the lofty prow.    "Smoke is each thing here below; Every worldly greatness dies, As the vapory columns go,—     None are fixed but Deities! Cares behind the horseman sit—     Round about the vessel play; Lest the morrow hinder it, Let us, therefore, live to-day." 

           PUNCH SONG.     (TO BE SUNG IN NORTHERN COUNTRIES.)     On the mountain's breezy summit, Where the southern sunbeams shine, Aided by their warming vigor, Nature yields the golden wine. How the wondrous mother formeth, None have ever read aright; Hid forever is her working, And inscrutable her might. Sparkling as a son of Phoebus,   

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