From Theocritus.

IDYLL. VII.


Scarce midway were we yet, nor yet descried
The stone that hides what once was Brasidas:
When there drew near a wayfarer from Crete,
Young Lycidas, the Muses' votary.
The horned herd was his care: a glance might tell
So much: for every inch a herdsman he.
Slung o'er his shoulder was a ruddy hide
Torn from a he-goat, shaggy, tangle-haired,
That reeked of rennet yet: a broad belt clasped
A patched cloak round his breast, and for a staff
A gnarled wild-olive bough his right hand bore.
Soon with a quiet smile he spoke - his eye
Twinkled, and laughter sat upon his lip:
"And whither ploddest thou thy weary way
Beneath the noontide sun, Simichides?
For now the lizard sleeps upon the wall,
The crested lark hath closed his wandering wing.
Speed'st thou, a bidd'n guest, to some reveller's board?
Or townwards, to the treading of the grape?
For lo! recoiling from thy hurrying feet
The pavement-stones ring out right merrily."

Charles Stuart Calverley

Charles Stuart Calverley was an English poet and wit, known for his parodies and skillfully light verse. Educated at Harrow and Oxford, he became immensely popular for his humorous poems. His notable works include 'Verses and Translations' and 'Fly Leaves.' Calverley's light-hearted approach and playful use of classical references made him a celebrated figure in Victorian literary circles.

Charles Stuart Calverley

Gemini And Virgo.

Charles Stuart Calverley, Simple Poetry

Proverbial Philosophy.

Charles Stuart Calverley, Simple Poetry

Contentment.

Charles Stuart Calverley, Simple Poetry

First Love.

Charles Stuart Calverley, Simple Poetry

English

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Elegy I. To Charles Diodati.[1]

At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come,
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Faster, faster,
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How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!
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Runs it not here, the track by Childsworth Farm,
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In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunatly drownd in his Passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637. And by occasion foretels the ruine of our corrupted Clergy then in their height.

Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
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Odes From Horace. - To Mæcenas. Book The First, Ode The First.

I.

Mæcenas, from Etrurian Princes sprung,
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II.

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