assist the sleeper.

Aut gelidas hibernus aquas eum fuderit auster
Securum somnos imbre juvante sequi.

We must not, however, proceed with our translations. Take up Landor's
Pentameron, and begin where you left off, when we first entered upon
this discussion of Catullus. He seemed to give the preference to
Catullus over Horace. Here is the page,--read on.

The Curate at once took the volume and read aloud.--The following
passage arrested our attention:--

"In return for my suggestion, pray tell me what is the meaning of

Obliquo laborat
Lympha fugax trepidare rivo.

"PETRARCHA.--The moment I learn it you shall have it. Laborat trepidare!
lympha rivo! fugax, too! Fugacity is not the action for hard work or
_labour_.

"BOCCACCIO.--Since you cannot help me out, I must give up the
conjecture, it seems, while it has cost me only half a century. Perhaps
it may be _curiosa felicitas_."

AQUILIUS--Stay there:--that criticism is new to me. I never even fancied
there was a difficulty in the passage. Let us consider it a moment.

CURATE.--Does he then think Horace not very choice in his words? for he
seems to be severe upon the "_curiosa felicitas_." Surely the diction of
the Latin poets is all in all--For their ideas seem hard
stereotyped,--uninterchangeable, the very reverse of the Greek, in whom
you always find some unexpected turn, some new thought, thrown out
beautifully in the rapidity of their conception--excepting in
Sophocles--who, attending more to his diction, deals perhaps a little
too much in common-place.

The object of the Latin poets should seem to have been to introduce
gracefully, into their own language, what the Greeks had left them; and
the nature of this labour quenched the fire of originality, if they had
any.--It is hard, however, to deny them the fruits of this labour; and
who was more happy in it than Horace?

AQUILIUS.--Surely, and the familiar love that all bear to Horace,
confirms your opinion--the general opinion. Now, I cannot but think
Horace happy in his choice of words, in this very passage of

obliquo laborat,
Lympha fugax trepidare rivo.

Let me suggest a meaning, which to me is obvious enough, and I am
surprised it should have escaped so acute and so profound a critic.
Horace supposes his friend enjoying the landscape in _remoto gramine_,
and there describes it accurately; and it is a favourite scene with him,
which he often paints in words, w