Callimachus

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept as I remembered how often you and I
...

But twelve short years you lived, my son,
Just twelve short years, and then you died:
...

The basket swift-descending from the skies,
Thus, thus, ye matrons, let your voices rise:
'Hail! Ceres, hail! by thee, from fertile ground
Swift springs the corn, and plenty flows around.'
...

Tho' great Apollo claim the poet's lyre,
Yet cold neglect may tempt Diana's ire,
Come, virgin-goddess, and inspire my song,
To you the chase, the sylvan dance belong,
...

The huntsman o'er the hills pursues
The timid hare, and keenly views
The tracks of hinds amid the snow,
...

Cleombrotus, high on a rock,
Above Ambracia stood,
Bade Sol adieu, and, as he spoke,
...

I hate the bard who strolls along,
And sells in streets his borrow'd song;
I seldom walk the public way,
...

This book is sure exactly wrote
In Hesiod's manner, style, and thought,
Of Grecian poet's not the least.
...

Cleonicus, unhappy man,
Say whence thy sorrows first began?
For, by yon' blazing orb of light,
I ne'er beheld so sad a sight.
...

A Youth, in haste, to Mitylene came,
And anxious, thus reveal'd his am'rous flame
To Pittacus the wife; O sacred Sire,
...

A sacred shell Zephyritis divine,
Fair Selenæa offers at thy shrine,
And thus thy Nautilus is doubly bless'd,
...

Whoe'er shall to this tomb draw nigh,
Behold, in death, a priestess lie;
I sacred Ceres first implor'd,
...

I hear, O friend, the fatal news
Of Heraclitus death.
A sudden tear my cheek bedews,
...

What force, what sudden impulse thus can make
The laurel-branch, and all the temple shake!
Depart ye souls profane; hence, hence! O fly
...

Whilst we to Jove immortal and divine,
Perform the rites, and pour the ruddy wine;
What shall the Muse, with sacred rapture sing,
...

If sober, and inclin'd to sport,
To you, my fair one, I resort;
The still-forbidden bliss to prove,
...

Come forth, come forth, ye virgins, and prepare
The bath for Pallas with assiduous care:
The Goddess comes; from yon' ætherial meads
I hear the snorting of her fiery steeds.
...

Fond Callignotus sigh'd and swore,
'Tis Violante I adore,
The brightest beauty on the plain,
...

Not on the land could Lycus die,
Nor in his native Naxos lie,
But on the main by tempest tost,
...

This morning we beheld with streaming eyes
The flames from Melanippus' body rise;
At eve, fair Basile resign'd her breath,
...