THE PRAYER OF TIBULLITS.
" Te spectem, suprema mibi quum venerit Nora, Te tone= moriens deficiente mane."
SWEET Tibullus, I was reading Yester-eve this prayer of thine, Where the anguish of thy pleading
Trembles in each perfect line : That thy dying hand might press Delia's in a last caress.
Roman lovers' groans and curses And their raptures leave us cold, Idle themes of idle verses Seem they to a world grown old; But across the waste of years
Thou canst reach the fount of tears.
Bards of thy Imperial city Many an amorous measure wove, Yet we miss the note of pity The authentic voice of Love :
Thou hast prayed that Love's own breath
Warm thee in the chill of Death.
So Tibullus, poet, lover, Gentlest voice of haughty Rome, Still thy words I linger over
Fondly in my English home,
Praying that when life is past Love may watch with Death at last. R. H LAW.
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