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EXCITATIO CORDIS CÆLUM VERSUS.

1694.

Heu quod sêcla teris carcere corporis,
Wattsi ? quid refugis limen et exitum?
Nec mens æthereum culmen et atria

Magni patris anh.

Corpus vile creat mille molestias,
Circum cordá volant et dolor, et metu“
Peccatumque malis durius omnibus

Cæcas insidias strit.

Non hoc grata tibi gaudia de solo
Surgunt: Christus abest, deliciæ ti',
Longè Christus abest, inter et ange.

Et picta astr.

mbulans.

Cæli summi petas, nec jaculabitur.*
Iracunda tonans fulmina: te Deus
Hortatur: Vacuum tende per At

Pennas nunc homini de

TRANSLATION. BY DR. GIBBONS.

THE EXCITATION OF THE HEART TOWARDS HEAVEY

What, shall whole ages wear away,
And I a willing prisoner stay
Immur'd within these walls of clay?

* Vide Horat. Lib. I. od.3.

The porch, the open door I see ;
Shall both conspire to set me free,
And I start back from liberty?

Shall I not pant to ascend the road
That leads to

yon sublime abode, The palace of my Father, God?

From this vile flesh what countless ills
Arise!

nou fear my bosom chills,
fun trickling tears distils;

Now

Whimsisia the worst of all my foes,
Pre us or murders my repose,
And sto of dark destruction strows.

On p1.')} spot where canst thou find
Plea it is ech exalted kind,
To fi es of the mind?

Jes

e, far far from sight, ad seraphs pure and bright, -enthron'd in worlds of light.

Could'st thou attempt to go,

Almighty would no thunders throw, Nor would one cloud obscure his brow :

Himself invites thee to the skies :
From sin and all its sorrows rise ;
Wings of swift flame his love supplies.

BREATHING TOWARD THE HEAVENLY

COUNTRY.

CASIMIR, BOOK I. OD, 19. IMITATED.

Urit me Patrice Decor, dc.

The beauty of my native land

Immortal love inspires;

I burn, I burn with strong desires,
And sigh, and wait the high command.
There glides the moon her shining way,
And shoots my heart through with a silver ray,

Upward my heart aspires :
A thousand lamps of golden light
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my sight,
And wink and beckon with their amorous fires.
O ye fair glories of my heavenly home,
Bright centinels who guard my Father's court,

Where all the happy minds resort,

When will my Father's chariot come?
Must ye for ever walk the ethereal round,

For ever see the mourner lie
An exile of the sky,

A prisoner of the ground?
Descend some shining servants from on high,

Build me a hasty tomb;
A grassy turf will raise my head ;
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed;

And shed a sweet perfume.
VOL. XXIII.

м

Here I put off the chains of death

My soul too long has worn;
Friends, I forbid one groaning breath,

Or tear to wet my urn ;
Raphael, behold me all undress'd,
Here gently lay this flesh to rest :
Then mount, and lead the path unknown,
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of

my own.

THE

HUNDREDTH EPIGRAM OF CASIMIR,

ENGLISHED.

Ardalio sacros deridel, c.

On Saint Ardalio, who from a Siage.player became a Christian,

and suffered Martyrdom.

ARDALIO jeers, and in his comic strains
The mysteries of our bleeding God profanes,
While his loud laughter shakes the painted scenes.
Heaven heard, and straight around the smoking

throne
The kindling lightning in thick flashes shone,
And vengeful thunder murmur'd to be gone.

Mercy stood near, and with a smiling brow
Calm’d the loud thunder:“There's no need of you ;
Grace shall descend, and the weak man subdue.'

Grace leaves the skies, and he the stage forsakes, He bows his head down to the martyring axe, And as he bows, this gentle farewell speaks :

So goes

the comedy of life away ; Vain earth adieu ; Heaven will applaud to-day; Strike, courteous tyrant, and conclude the play.'

When the Protestant Church at Montpelier was de

molished by the French King's order, the Protestants laid the stones up in their burying-place, whereon a Jesuit made a Latin Epigram;

ENGLISHED THUS :

A Hugonot church, once at Montpelier built,
Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt;
Too long it stood beneath Heaven's angry frown,
Worthy when raising to be thunder'd down.
Lewis, at last, the avenger of the skies,
Commands, and level with the ground it lies:
The stones dispers’d, their wretched offspring come,
Gather, and heap them on their fathers' tomb.
Thus the curs'd house falls on the builder's head :
And though beneath the ground their bones are laid,
Yet the just vengeance still pursues the guilty dead.

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