waiting to receive it, so does each generation pass on its wisdom to the succeeding generation, and disappear.  “My sun is stooping westward” is only a beautiful way of saying, “I am becoming very old; be quick, so that we may see each other before I die.”  And the poet suggests that it is because of his age and his experience and his wisdom that he could hope to be of service to the dear divine Comatas.  The expression, “there is fruitage in my garden,” refers to no material garden, but to the cultivated mind of the scholar; he is only saying, “I have strange knowledge that I should like to impart to you.”  How delightful, indeed, it would be, could some university scholar really converse with a living Greek of the old days!

There is another little Greek study of great and simple beauty entitled “The Daughter of Cleomenes.”  It is only an historical incident, but it is so related for the pleasure of suggesting a profound truth about the instinct of childhood.  Long ago, when the Persians were about to make an attack upon the Greeks, there was an attempt to buy off the Spartan resistance, and the messenger to the Spartan general found him playing with his little daughter, a child of six or seven.  The conference was carried on in whispers, and the child could not hear what was being said; but she broke up the whole plot by a single word.  I shall quote a few lines from the close of the poem, which contain its moral lessons.  The emissary has tried to tempt him with promises of wealth and power.

  He falters; for the waves he fears,
    The roads he cannot measure;
  But rates full high the gleam of spears
    And dreams of yellow treasure. 
  He listens; he is yielding now;
    Outspoke the fearless child: 
  “Oh, Father, come away, lest thou
    Be by this man beguiled.” 
  Her lowly judgment barred the plea,
    So low, it could not reach her.
  The man knows more of land and sea,
    But she’s the truer teacher.

All the little girl could know about the matter was instinctive; she only saw the cunning face of the stranger, and felt sure that he was trying to deceive her father for a bad purpose—­so she cried out, “Father, come away with me, or else that man will deceive you.”  And she spoke truth, as her father immediately recognized.

There are several more classical studies of extraordinary beauty; but your interest in them would depend upon something more than interest in Greek and Roman history, and we can not study all the poems.  So I prefer to go back to the meditative lyrics, and to give a few splendid examples of these more personal compositions.  The following stanzas are from a poem whose Latin title signifies that Love conquers death.  In this poem the author becomes the equal of Tennyson as a master of language.

  The plunging rocks, whose ravenous throats
    The sea in wrath and mockery fills,
  The smoke that up the valley floats,
    The girlhood of the growing hills;