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The air of wealth and repose diffused about them seemed to comfort their neediness. Behind a hedge of laurel a light glimmered in the window of a kitchen and the voice of a servant was heard singing as she sharpened knives. She sang, in short broken bars: Rosie O'Grady. Cranly stopped to listen, saying: MULIER CANTAT.

'The sweet vicissitudes of day and night. The following elegant version of these lines by Mr. A. T. Barton, Fellow and Tutor of Johnson's own College, will please the classical reader: Musa levat duros, quamvis rudis ore, labores; Inter opus cantat rustica Pyrrha suum; Nec meminit, secura rotam dum versat euntem, Non aliter nostris sortibus ire vices. He was the brother of the Rev.

The old saying Frisia non cantat marks the lack of exuberance and of the spirit of revelry. But shy reticence finds compensation in good-natured humor. Unenthusiastic but substantial realism, speculative meditation, and a certain didactic tone make the Low German country the home of the fable and the great epic.

Then with a sudden sob the pageant ceases: Ilia cantat, nos tacemus: quando ver venit meum? Quando fiam uti chelidon ut tacere desinam?

Et vacuus cantat coram latrone viator; Vacuus not of money, but of pistols. Yet on the other hand, though possibly sound law for the thickets of Mount Cithaeron, this would be too unsafe a policy as a general rule: too often it is the exposure of a helpless exterior which first suggests the outrage.

Giles, which is my patron saint, I care not how it be, for mark ye, vacuus cantat coram latrone viator, Sir Goliath, the which in the vulgar tongue signifieth that he who travels with an empty purse laughs before the footpad moreover, I have a sword!" But Beltane laughed, saying: "I have no lust to thy purse, most learned bowman, or indeed to aught of thine unless it be thy company."

Cantat vacuus . . . He slid a hand under the bed-clothes and rubbed the swelling on his leg, softly, wondering if condemned men felt as little perturbed or some of them on the eve of execution. He ceased rubbing and lay still again, staring up at the play of light on the rafters. Fine old timbers they were . . . solid English oak.