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Immane rugit jam tonitru; fragor
Late ruinam mandat, ab infimis
Lectæque designata genti

Tartara disjiciuntur antris.

Heic strata passim vincula, et heic jacent Unci cruenti, tormina mentium

Invisa, ploratuque vasto

Spicula Mors sibi adempta plangit.

En, ut resurgit victor ab ultimo
Ditis profundo, curribus aureis
Astricta raptans monstra Noctis,
Perdomitumque Erebi tyrannum!

Quanta angelorum gaudia jubilant,
Victor paternum dum repetit polum !
En qualis ardet, dum beati
Limina scandit ovans Olympi!

"Io triumphe," plectra seraphica,
"Io triumphe," grex hominum sonet,
Dum læta quaquaversus ambos

Astra repercutiunt triumphos.

SUI IPSIUS INCREPATIO.

EPIGRAMMA.

CORFORE cur hæres, Wattsi! cur incola terræ ! Quid cupis indignum, mens, habitare lutum ! Te caro mille malis premit ; hinc juvenes gravat

artus

Languor, et hinc vegetus crimina sanguis alit: Cura, amor, ira, dolor, mentem male distrahit,

auceps

Undique adest Satanas retia sæva struens. Suspice ut æthereum signant tibi nutibus astra Tramitem, et aula vocat parta cruore Dei. Te manet Uriel dux, et tibi subjicit alas Stellatas seraphin officiosa cohors:

Te superum chorus optat amans, te invitat Iesus, "Huc ades, et nostro tempora conde sinu.” Vere amat ille lutum quem nec dolor aut Satan

arcet

Inde, nec alliciunt angelus, astra, Deus.

EXCITATIO CORDIS COLUM VERSUS.

HEU! quot secla teris carcere corporis,
Wattsi? quid refugis limen et exitum,
Nec mens æthereum culmen et atria

Magni Patris anhelitat?

Corpus vile creat mille molestias,
Circum corda volant et dolor et metus,
Peccatumque malis durius omnibus

Cæcas insidias struit.

Non hoc grata tibi gaudia de solo
Surgunt Christus abest, deliciæ tuæ,
Longe Christus abest, inter et angelos

Et picta astra perambulans.

Coeli summa petas, nec jaculabitur.
Iracunda tonans fulmina, te Deus
Hortatur, vacuum tende per aera

1694.

Pennas nunc homini datas.1

1 Vide Horat. Lib. i. Od. 3, [34, 35.]

BREATHING TOWARD THE HEAVENLY COUNTRY.

CASIMIRE, BOOK I. OD. 19, IMITATED.

"Urit me patriæ decor," &c.

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 sentinels, 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 cheap perfume.

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.

CASIMIRI EPIGRAMMA C.

In Sanctum Ardalionem, qui, ex mimo Christianus factus, martyrium passus est.

ARDALIO sacros deridet carmine ritus,
Festaque non æqua voce theatra quatit.
Audiit Omnipotens: "Non est opus," inquit,

"hiulco

Fulmine; tam facilem, Gratia, vince virum." Deserit illa polos, et deserit iste theatrum, Et tereti sacrum volvit in ense caput:

"Sic, sic," inquit, "abit nostræ comœdia vitæ ; Terra vale cœlum, plaude! tyranne, feri!"

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