FRAGMENTS FROM EURIPIDES.

Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees.

The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon,

Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,

As in the shining grass she sate conceal'd,

Sing to herself.

There is a streamlet issuing from a rock.

The village-girls, singing wild madrigals,

Dip their white vestments in its waters clear,

And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her.

Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire,

‘ Twas heav'n to look upon; and her sweet voice,

As tuneable as harp of many strings,

At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul!