For I have lov'd thee very long,

And lov'd thee very well.

III.

To native skies and peaceful bow'rs,

I foon fhall wing my way;

Where joy shall lead the circling hours,

Unless too long thy stay.

IV.

O fpeed, fair Sun! thy course divine ;

My Abala remove;

There thy bright beams fhall ever shine,

And I for ever love:

V.

On those bleft shores, a flave no more!

In peaceful ease I'll stray;

Or roufe to chace the mountain boar,

As unconfin'd as day.

Nam te, quàm longo, te fum complexus amore!

Et, quàm fidus erat, tàm diuturnus amor.

III.

Tempus adeft, quo jam nullâ prohibente catenâ,
In patriæ cœlos, dulciaque arva volo,

Quo mihi rifura eft felix, ut præterit, hora;
Si tamen adfueris, lætior omnis erit.

IV.

Quin tu, magne parens lucis, devolvere curfus

Præfcriptos properes, hinc Abalamque move;

Hinc procul in fedes, quêis incorrupta micabit
Lux tua, quêis et amor vivet in æva meus:

V.

Quêis et ego penitùs liber longa otia ducam,

Aut fectabor apros per nemus omne vagus ;

H

Nullus

VI.

No Chriftian tyrant there is known

To mark his fteps with blood,

Nor fable mis'ry's piercing moan

Refounds through ev'ry wood!

VII.

Yet I have heard the melting tongue,

Have seen the falling tear;

Known the good heart by pity wrung,

Ah! that fuch hearts are rare!

VIII.

Now, Chriftian, glut thy ravish'd eyes!

I reach the joyful hour;

Now bid the fcorching flames arise,

And these poor limbs devour :

IX.

But, know, pale tyrant, 'tis not thine

Eternal war to wage;

The

Nullus ubi furit invifus pallore tyrannus ;

Ut libet, aut noftro terra cruore madet :

VI.

Nullus ibi noftras, lentæ fpectacula mortis,
Per fylvas gemitum triftem iterare folet.

Hic tamen auditæ voces miserantis, et inter

Voces nonnunquam lacryma vifa genis:

VII.

Heu ! modò nonnunquam ; numero nam rarus in ifto,

Qui flet, et in miferos mitia corda gerit:

Ergo age, fi poteris, fatia te fanguine noftro;

Dum cruciare tuum eft, dum mifer effe meum.

VIII.

Ergo age, jam circum flammas accende ferales,

Corpus et hoc lacerum vis furibunda necet:

Scilicet

The death, thou giv'ft, shall but combine

To mock thy baffled rage.

X.

O! death, how welcome to th' oppreft!

Thy kind embrace I crave!

Thou bring'ft to mis'ry's bosom reft,

And freedom to the flave!

And from the eastern summit shed

Her filver light on tow'r and tree : When Mary laid her down to sleep,

Her thoughts on Sandy far at fea,

Then