What is this absorbs me quite,

Steals my fenfes, shuts my fight,

Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath;

Tell me, my foul, can this be death?

III.

The world recedes, it difappears;

Heav'n opens to my eyes; my ears

With founds feraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings, I mount! I fly!

O Death, where is thy victory?

III.

Quid forbet? oh quid me mihi furripit ?

Senfus quid aufert? lumina quid capit?

Tantùmne mortis vis valebit?

Langueo debilitorque totus.

IV.

Mundi recedit littus, et effugit :

Panduntur altæ fydereæ domus :

Et perfonant aures ftupentes

Carminibus fuperûm phalanges.

V.

Præbete pennas, angelici chori,

Præbete pennas; ecce, feror! feror

Longè per altum! nunc & Orce! should be

Afpera Mors! ubi nunc triumphus ?

CANTI

A WINTER

I.

PIECE.

T was a winter's evening, and faft came down the

IT

fnow,

And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow, When a damfel all forlorn, quite bewildered in her way, Preft her baby to her bosom, and fadly thus did say.

II.

"Oh! cruel was my father, that shut his door on me, And cruel was my mother, that fuch a fight could fee, And cruel is the wintry wind, that chills my heart with cold,

for

But crueller than all the lad, that left my love my gold.

III.

Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breast; Ah! little thinks thy father how fadly we're diftreft;

For,

CANTILENA HYEMALIS.

I.

ESPER erat: campis et nix hyemosa ruebat,

VESPE

Stridebatque Aquilo per loca mæsta situ;

Hæc, incerta viæ, peragrabat sola puella,

Infantemque premens, cœpit acerba queri.

II.

"Heu! pater ille ferus, natæ qui tecta negavit,
Et fera, quæ vidit talia, mater erat,

Et fera vis venti eft, quæ fic mea pectora tundit,
At, mihi qui nummos prætulit, ille magìs.

III.

Parvule mi, taceas, gremio renovesque calorem ;

Ah! nefcit genitor, nos mala quanta premunt:

For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we farc,

He'd fhield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air.

IV.

Cold, cold, my dearest jewel! thy little life is gone;

Oh ! let my tears revive thee, fo warm that trickle down: My tears that gush so warm, Oh! they freeze before they fall;

[of all."

Ah! wretched, wretched mother! thou'rt now bereft

V.

Then down fhe funk, despairing, upon the drifted fnow,

And, wrung with killing anguish, lamented loud her woe: She kifs'd her baby's pale lips, and laid it by her side; Then caft her eyes to heaven, then bow'd her head

and dy❜d.

THE