* * * * *


ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A SPARROW.

_Catullus, Carmen 3_.

(_For the Mirror_.)


Oh, mourn ye deities of love.
And ye whose minds distress can move,
Bewail a Sparrow's fate;
The Sparrow, favourite of my fair,
Fond object of her tend'rest care,
Her loss indeed how great.

For so affectionate it grew,
And its delighted mistress knew
As well as she her mother;
Nor would it e'er her lap forsake,
But hopping round about would make
Some sportive trick or other.

It now that gloomy road has pass'd.
That road which all must go at last,
From whence there's no retreat;
But evil to you, shades of death,
For having thus deprived of breath