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Or when, inspired by Aganippe's stream,

O'er Sappho's lyre with sportive touch she strays:
And challenges Corinna's ancient theme,

And coldly listens to Erinna's lays.

The little epigrams under Erinna's name, in one of which the name itself occurs, appear to be genuine; they have the beautiful Greek simplicity. But the Ode to Rome, ascribed to her, has not the spirit and wildness of the early Greek ode: nor is it likely that, in the time of Erinna, who was, about, contemporary with the elder Tarquin, Greece should have had intercourse with Rome. This sort of anachronism has led Grotius, and others, to render Romé in the acceptation of Strength or Fortitude. But the sentiments can scarcely apply to an abstract quality. It is probably the forgery of a Roman, in a later age: unless, indeed, as has been surmised, there was another Erinna.





THE virgin Myrtis' sepulchre am I;
Creep, softly, to the pillar'd mount of woe;
And whisper to the grave, in earth below,
"Grave! thou art envious in thy cruelty!"
To thee, now gazing here, her barb'rous fate

These bride's adornments tell; that, with the fire Of Hymen's torch, which led her to the gate,

Her husband burn'd the maid upon her pyre: Yes, Hymen! thou didst change the marriage song To the shrill wailing of the mourners' throng.


PILLARS of death! carv'd Syrens! tearful urns! In whose sad keeping my poor dust is laid; To him that near my tomb his footstep turns, Stranger or Greek, bid hail! and say, a maid Rests, in her bloom, below: her sire the name Of Myrtis gave: her birth and lineage high: And say, her bosom-friend Erinna came,

And on this marble grav'd her elegy.


HAIL, oh Rome! thou child of Mars!

Golden-mitred! wise in wars!

High o'er earth thou dwellest, still,
On firm Olympus' hill.

Rule unbroken fell to thee

From most ancient destiny;

That, in thy kingly strength secure,

Thou ever may'st endure.

Thy chariot-yoke and guiding rein

Curb the wide soil, and foamy main;

The cities of the nations stand

Safe underneath thy hand.

Time, who has earth's destroyer been,
Who, varying, shifts the human scene,
Shall never change the prosperous gale

That swells thy empire's sail.

For thou, alone, dost heroes bear,

So tall of limb, so strong with spear;

Thine are the spiky ranks of war,

And men thy harvests are.

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