Cura, amor, ira, dolor mentem malè 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 Seraphîn officiosa cohors.

Te superûm chorus optat amans, te invitat Iesus, "Huc ades, et nostro tempora conde sinû." Verè amat ille lutum quem nec dolor aut Satan arcet

Inde, nec alliciunt Angelus, Astra, Deus.

EXCITATIO CORDIS CŒLUM VERSUS.

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

HEU quot sêcla teris carcere corporis,
Wattsi? quid refugis limen et exitum?
Nec mens æthereum culmen, et atria
Magni Patris anhelitat?

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

1694.

1 Cœli summa petas, nec jaculabitur. Iracunda tonans fulmina: Te Deus Hortatur; Vacuum tende per aëra

Et picta astra perambulans.

THE beauty of my native land
Immortal love inspires;

Cacas insidias struit. Mercy stood near, and with a smiling brow [you;
Calm'd the loud thunder: "There's no need of
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;
Pennas nunc homini datas. | Strike, courteous tyrant, and conclude the play."

BREATHING TOWARD THE HEAVENLY
COUNTRY.
CASIMIRE, BOOK 1, OD. 19. IMITATED.

Urit me patriæ decor, &c.

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 undrest,
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.

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 th' 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.

Vide Horat. lib. i. od. 3.

THE

HUNDREDTH EPIGRAM OF CASIMIRE.
ON SAINT ARDALIO,

Who from a stage-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.

She beckons me away;

[clay,

I feel mine airy powers loose from the cumbrous And with a joyful haste obey

Religion's high command.

What lengths and heights and depths unknown!
Broad fields with blooming glory sown,

Now the swift transports of the mind Leave the fluttering Muse behind, A thousand loose Pindaric plumes fly scattering down the wind.

Thou art my ocean, thou my God;
In thee the passions of the mind
With joys and freedom unconfin'd
Exult, and spread their powers abroad.
Not all the glittering things on high
Can make my Heaven if thou remove;
I shall be tir'd, and long to die;
Life is a pain without thy love:

Who could ever bear to be
Curst with immortality
Among the stars, but far from thee?

Nor the rich world of minds above

Can pay the mighty debt of love

I owe to Christ my God:

With pangs which none but he could feel,
He brought my guilty soul from Hell:
Not the first seraph's tongue can tell
The value of his blood.

Kindly he seiz'd me in his arms,
From the false world's pernicious charms
With force divinely sweet.

Had I ten thousand lives my own,

At his demand,

With cheerful hand,

I'd pay the vital treasure down

In hourly tributes at his feet.

Then I could lose successive souls
Fast as the minutes fly;
So billow after billow rolls
To kiss the shore, and die.

But, Saviour, let me taste thy grace
With every fleeting breath;
And through that Heaven of pleasure pass
To the cold arms of Death;

The substance of the following copy, and many of the lines, were sent me by an esteemed friend, Mr. W. NOKES, with a desire that I would form them into a Pindaric ode; but I retained his measures, lest I should too much alter his sense.

A SIGHT OF CHRIST.

ANGELS of light, your God and King surround,
With noble songs; in his exalted flesh

But the bright shine and presence soon withdrew;
I sought him whom I love, but found him not;
I felt his absence; and with strongest cries
Proclaim'd, "Where Jesus is not, all is vain."
Whether I hold him with a full delight,
Or seek him panting with extreme desire,
'Tis he alone can please my wondering soul;
To hold or seek him is my only choice.
If he refrain on me to cast his eye
Down from his palace, nor my longing soul
With upward look can spy my dearest Lord
Through his blue pavement, I'll behold him still
With sweet reflection on the peaceful cross,

MUTUAL LOVE STRONGER THAN DEATH. All in his blood and anguish groaning deep,

He claims your worship: while his saints on Earth
Bless their Redeemer-God with humble tongues.
Angels with lofty honours crown his head;
We bowing at his feet, by faith, may feel
His distant influence, and confess his love.

Once I beheld his face, when beams divine
Broke from his eye-lids, and unusual light
Wrapt me at once in glory and surprise.
My joyful heart high leaping in my breast
With transport cried, "This is the Christ of God;"
Then threw my arins around in sweet embrace,
And clasp'd, and bow'd adoring low, till I was lost in
While he appears, no other charms can hold [him.
Or draw my soul, asham'd of former things,
Which no remembrance now deserve or name,
Though with contempt; best in oblivion hid.

Gasping and dying there

This sight I ne'er can lose, by it I live:
A quickening virtue from his death inspir'd
Is life and breath to me; his flesh my food;
His vital blood I drink, and hence my strength.

I live, I'm strong, and now eternal life
Beats quick within my breast; my vigorous mind
Spurns the dull Earth, and on her fiery wings
Reaches the mount of purposes divine,
Counsels of peace betwixt th' Almighty Three
Conceiv'd at once, and sign'd without debate,
In perfect union of th' Eternal Miud.

With vast amaze I see th' unfathom'd thoughts,
Infinite schemes, and infinite designs
Of God's own heart, in which he ever rests.
Eternity lies open to my view;
Here the Beginning and the End of all
I can discover; Christ the End of all,
And Christ the great Beginning; he my Head,
My God, my Glory, and my All in All.