EPITAPH ON THOSE WHO FELL AT THE BATTLE OF CHAERONEA

Οἵδε πάτρας ἕνεκα σφετέρας εἰς δῆριν ἔθεντο
ὅπλα, καὶ ἀντιπάλων ὕβριν ἀπεσκέδασαν
μαρνάμενοι δ' ἀρετῆς καὶ δείματος οὐκ ἐσάωσαν
ψυχὰς, ἀλλ' 'Αϊδην κοινὸν ἔθεντο βραβῆ,
οὖνεκεν Ελλήνων, ὡς μὴ ζυγὸν αὐχένι θέντες
δουλοσύνης στυγερὰν ἀμφὶς ἔχωσιν ὕβριν·

γαῖα δὲ πατρὶς ἔχει κόλποις τῶν πλειστα καμόντων
σώματ', ἐπεὶ θνητοῖς ἐκ Διὸς ἥδε κρίσις·
μηδὲν ἁμαρτεῖν ἐστι θεοῦ καὶ πάντα κατορθοῦν,
ἐν βιοτῇ μοῖραν δ ̓ οὔ τι φυγεῖν ἔπορεν.

DEMOSTHENES, De Corona, 822

ANGLICE REDDITUM

TH

HESE are the heroes, for their country's weal Who dared the strife and made the proud foe reel.

'Twixt praise and shame-for such high stakes
they vied-

Careless of living, Death they bade decide.
And this for Hellas' sake, that she might be
From tyrant's pride and yoke of bondsmen free.
Sore was their toil-but now their motherland's
Dear bosom folds them-so great Zeus commands.
Unfailing, all-availing, is his power,

To men no respite gives he from their hour.

THE SLEEP OF THE BRAVE

How

W sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!

When Spring with dewy fingers cold
Shall deck with flowers their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod

Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

W. COLLINS

LATINE REDDITUM

DIC quam soporem rite petunt viri

Quos morte victos dignus amor beat
Et patria extollit sepultos!

Nempe ubi ver rediens sacratam

Terram benignis roribus illinet,
Florum creatrix, gratior hinc solo
Caespes virebit, quam beato

Qui nitet Hesperidum recessu.

HEBREW MELODIES

THY days are done, thy fame begun;

Thy country's strains record

The triumphs of her chosen son,

The slaughters of his sword,
The deeds he did, the fields he won,

The freedom he restored!

Though thou art fall'n, while we are free,
Thou shalt not taste of death!

The generous blood that flowed from thee
Disdained to sink beneath :

Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!

Thy name our charging hosts along

Shall be the battle-word,