TRANSLATION OF THE ABOVE,
BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray;
That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure the hand of might,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportioned to his-size...
IV.
Perhaps indulgent nature meant,
By such a lamp bestowed,
To bid the traveller, as he went,
Be careful where he trod:
Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,
To shew a stumbling stone by night,
And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain,
'Tis power almighty bids him shine,
Nor bids him shine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendour too.
Nigras inter aves avis est, quæ plurima turres, Antiquas ædes, celsaque Fana colit.
Nil tam sublime est, quod non audace volatu,
Aeriis spernens inferiora, petit.
Quo nemo ascendat, cui non vertigo cerebrum
Corripiat, certè hunc seligit illa locum.
Quo vix à terrâ tu suspfcis absque tremore,
Illa metûs expers incolumisque sedet.
Lamina delubri supra fastigia, ventus
Quâ cœli spiret de regione, docet;
Hanc ea præ reliquis mavult, secura pericli,
Nec curat, nedum cogitat, unde cadat.
Res inde humanas, sed summa per otia, spectat,
Et nihil ad sese, quas videt, esse videt.
Concursus spectat, plateâque negotia in omni,
Omnia pro nugis at sapienter habet.
Clamores, quas infra audit, si forsitan audit,
Pro rebus nihili negligit, & crocitat.
Ille tibi invideat, felix Cornicula, pennas,
Qui sic humanis rebus abesse velit.
THERE is a bird who by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow;
A great frequenter of the church,
Where bishop-like he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.
Above the steeple shines a plate,
That turas and turns, to indicate
From what point blows the weather.
Look up-your brains begin to swim,
'Tis in the clouds-that pleases him,
He chooses it the rather.
Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree show,
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his ease.
You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.
He sees that this great roundabout
The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law,
Its customs, and its businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,
And says-what says he?-Caw.
Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men;
And, sick of having seen 'em,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,
And such a head between 'em.
O qui meæ culina
Argutulus Choraules,
Et Hospes es canorus,
Quacunque commoreris.
Felicitatis omen;
Jucundiore cantu
Siquando me salutes,
Et ipse te rependam,
Et ipse, quâ valebo,
Remunerabo musâ.
Dicêris innocensque
Et gratus inquilinus;
Nec victitans rapinis,
Ut sorices voraces,
Muresve curiosi,
Furumque delicatum
Vulgus domesticorum:
Sed tutus in camini
Recessibus, quiete
Contentus & calore.
Beatior Cicadâ,
Quæ te referre formâ,
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