FROM THE GREEK OF ANTIPATER .

Orpheus! thou no more shalt lead,
From the mountain's bending head,
Ancient rocks and forests gray,
Nor make the brinded lion play,
And the spotted leopard crouch
Beside thy high-retired couch;
While the eagle check'd its wing,
Charm'd above thy solemn string.
Thou no more the snow shalt bind,
Or the biting Thracian wind:
Nor subdue the stormy cloud,
Hoary Winter's chilling shroud;
Nor, with an enchanted strain,
On old Ocean fling a chain.
Many a tear was shed for thee!
The divine Calliope,
In wild beauty, through the woods,
Where the yellow autumn broods,
Wept and wander'd for thee long;
In their caves the Satyr throng,
Grieving, stamp'd with horny tread
On the sweet, uneven reed;
And every Dryad from her tree
Fill'd the air with wo for thee.
Thou'rt gone! Shall mortals o'er the grave repine,
When thus a goddess mourns a son divine!