my lady's sweetest eyes are Swollen and red, oh the pity on't! Cool thy rays ; Or frantic I will eat Thy Thyrse, and bite the Bays. How oft, dear Badham, as my pen. 2 lo Notes and Illustrations. This is a subject on which we have difficulty in speaking, but no one is entitled to say anything of Catullus and to pass. As might have been expected, the spirit of the lighter pieces is often admirably trans- fused into French verse ; but in the more weighty poems its power of reproduction altogether fails.