PARAPHRASE FROM HORACE.

SWEET Pyrrha, maid of Harvard Square,

Dear damsel, excellently fair,

What conquest hast thou made this fall, -

What perfume-scented Freshman small

Goes ev'ry afternoon to meet

Thee walking out on Brattle Street,

Eyes thee askance, and longs to sip

The honeyed nectar of thy lip?

For whom dost thou, with dainty care,

Curl, frizz, and braid, and bang thy hair,

To make more charmingly intense

Thy elegant magnificence?

Poor fellow, he believes thee true,

Unconscious what a girl can do.

Alas! full soon will he declare

That thou art false as thou art fair;

For, when he calls some day, no doubt

He'll find thee in and find thee out.

Thou hast been taught the way to flirt

For seasons three, at Mount Desert;

And I have known thy wiles before,

For I am now a Sophomore.

And, grateful to have saved my heart

From Pyrrha's fascinating art,

I've sacrificed with outlay mighty

A pair of kids to Aphrodite.

ION.