THE TRANSLATOR'S FOREWORD.
I now submit to the Public a second section of my Master's works, the first Part of his far-famed Lyricks. This volume is the fifth of a Camonian series; and two or three more, which are in MS., will complete my Labour of Love.
It is hard to repress a smile at the thought of these pages being turned over by Young England of the nineteenth century;—these Sonnets which date from days when "courting" was a study; these Odes that deal with old Endymion and Achilles, whose second death was after the date of Gray; these Canzons so full of shadowy half-expression, of shorthand allusiveness, that every Commentator explains them for himself. To the inevitable cui bono? I can only plead a "call": my translation should be printed even though it had ne'er a reader save the writer. It is innocuous so far that it can injure no publisher: it is brought out sumptu meo; and my friend Mr. Quaritch is strong enough to lend his name without fearing to lose caste. And yet, though my work must be its own reward, I am not wholly without hope that the
