For, not all shall I die, but my greater part still
Shall survive from the grave, and my fame shall increase
Long as virgin and priest on the Capitol Hill
Shall ascend to their altars in silence and peace.
Where once Daunus of deserts and rustics was king,
Where swift Aufidus roars, in my praise shall be told
That, though humble in birth, I was foremost to bring
Into Italy's songs the Greek music of old.
Then, Melpomene, take to thyself all the pride
Of the glory thy merits so justly declare,
And now freely of Delphian laurel provide
A fresh coronal wreath to encircle thy hair.

_Athenoeum_, 1875.

[Footnote 1: The Melpomene of Horace was, I suppose, the Greek muse of
singing, not the muse of tragedy, nor a general muse.]

[Footnote 2: Died 1880.]




THE SCULPTOR TO HIS STATUE


JOHN J. INGALLS '55[1]

"Thou silent, pallid dream, in marble stone!
No rare, sweet phantasie which my divine