Coepit to tell suo love a Kate
  Dans un poetique strain.
Mais, glancing ever et anon
  At fair Amanda’s eyes,
Illae non possunt dicere
  Pro which he meant his sighs. 
Each virgo heard the demi-vow,
  Con cheeks as rouge as wine,
Ed offering, each, a milk-white hand,
  Both whispered, “Ich bin dein.”

MALUM OPUS

Prope ripam fluvii solus
  A senex silently sat;
Super capitum ecce his wig,
  Et wig super, ecce his hat.

Blew Zephyrus alte, acerbus,
  Dum elderly gentleman sat;
Et a capite took up quite torve
  Et in rivum projecit his hat.

Tunc soft maledixit the old man,
  Tunc stooped from the bank where he sat,
Et cum scipio poked in the water,
  Conatus servare his hat.

Blew Zephyrus alte, acerbus,
  The moment it saw him at that;
Et whisked his novum scratch wig
  In flumen, along with his hat.

Ab imo pectore damnavit,
  In coeruleus eye dolor sat;
Tunc despairingly threw in his cane,
  Nare cum his wig and his hat.

L’Envoi

Contra bonos mores, don’t swear
  It est wicked you know (verbum sat)
Si this tale habet no other moral
  Mehercle!  You’re gratus to that.

    —­James A. Morgan

FELIS

A cat sedebat on our fence
  As laeta as could be;
Her vox surgebat to the skies,
  Canebat merrily.

My clamor was of no avail,
  Tho’ clare did I cry. 
Conspexit me with mild reproof,
  And winked her alter eye.

Quite vainly ieci boots, a lamp,
  Some bottles and a book;
Ergo, I seized my pistol, et
  My aim cum cura took.

I had six shots, dixi, “Ye gods,
  May I that felis kill!”
Quamquam I took six of her lives
  The other three sang still.

The felis sang with major vim,
  Though man’s aim was true,
Conatus sum, putare quid
  In tonitru I’d do.

A scheme advenit in my head
  Scivi, ’twould make her wince—­
I sang!  Et then the hostis fled
  Non eam vidi since.

    —­Tennessee University Magazine

AMANTIS RES ADVERSAE

A homo ibat, one dark night
  Puellas visitare
Et mansit there so very late
  Ut illi constet cura.

Pueri walking by the house
  Saw caput in fenestra,
Et sunt morati for a while
  To see quis erat in there.

Soon caput turned its nasum round
  In viam puerorum;
Agnoscunt there the pedagogue,
  Oh! maximum pudorem!

Progressus puer to the door
  Cum magna quietate,
Et turned the key to lock him in
  Moratus satis ante.

Tum pedagogue arose to go
  Est feeling hunky-dore: 
Sed non potest to get out
  Nam key’s outside the fore.