isa-normaladvance-1909-00110

Description:	110THE NORMAL ADVANCEI, 21.Dianam tenerae dicite virginesOh maidens, to Diana sing in tender lays Oh youths, sing forth unshorn Apollos praise Praise, too, Latona unto whom great loveWas given by the mighty god above.Come, maidens, praise her whom all streamletsplease,Who loves the foliage of all the trees,Whether on Erymanthus dark as night,On frigid Algidus, or Cragus bright.Come, youths, in equal number fill the airWith praise to Delos and to Tempe fair,Beloved by him whose shoulders are adornedWith the quiver, and the lyre that Hermesformed.The prayers of all Apollo will not spurn,But moved, upon our enemies will turnThe tearful war, dire famine and the pest,Which else our chief and people had oppressed.—Nell Johnson.I, 29.Icci beatis nunc Arabum invidesCan it be, my good friend Iccius,That your avarice for goldLeads you to attack the ArabsFor rich booty yet untold?Are you planning with an armyNow the dreaded Mede to chain,Een before the countrys conqueredAnd Sabaeas kings are slain ?What barbarian maid will serve youWhen her lover is laid low ?Or what boy will fill your gobletsSkilled to stretch his fathers bow?Now will downward coursing riversUp the mountains flow again,When you change your noble promiseFor a corslet wrought in Spain.—Theresa Wehr.I, 29.Icci beatis nunc Arabum invidesIccius, do you covet the Arabs heaps of goldAnd undertake against them to wage a warfarebold,Gainst Sabaeas dauntless chieftains, and is itthen the truthThat you are forging chains of iron for theMedian uncouth?What Oriental maiden, a lovers fate to mourn,Shall homeward from her native land a slaveto you be borne?What page with hair anointed your drinking-cup shall fill,Although to shoot the arrows from his fathersbows his skill?Pray tell me who can still contend that riversdownward flow,And Tiber, too, cannot reverse, and straightup hillsides go,When you the treasured volumes from Panae-tius famous penAnd all the lore of Socrates and wise Socraticmen,Although youve promised better, consign the, whole to sale,Asking merely in return a Spanish coat ofmail?—Helen Connor.I, 38.Persicos odi puer apparatusMy boy, I hate the Persian pomp,Displeasing is the linden wreath No longer haunt the vale where growsThe lonely rose.The myrtle plain do not adorn:For you tis seemly as you serve,For me as well, as I reclineBeneath the vine.—Marian Sammis.Ill, 8.Martiis caelebs quid agam KalendisPerhaps you wonder what is the senseOf this festal garland and frank-incense,Which a bachelor I in homage payOn the wedded folks glad festal day.
Source:	http://indstate.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/isuarchive/id/34140
Collection:	Indiana State University Archives

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