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P Auperis annofi longos miferere dolores,


Vìx hæc, qui vix ad limina membra traho,

Cui lux vitalis properat demergier umbris ;

Sic Dî persolvant præmia, fer, fer opem.



En! tibi tam lacerum tegmen me monstrat egenum,

Confectumque annis tempora fparfa nive;


And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek

Has been the channel to a flood of tears.


Yon house, erected on the rising ground,

With tempting aspect, drew me from my road;

For Plenty there a residence has found,

And Grandeur a magnificent abode.


Hard is the fate of the infirin and poor !

Here, as I crav'd a morsel of their bread,

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Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold !

Short is my passage to the friendly tomb,

For I am poor, and miserably old.



Plurimus ore meo sulcus, quo flumina manent,

Flumina, quæ totiès fudit acerba dolor.


Quò domus ifta jugis acclivibus alta videtur,

Traxit eò species perfida, spesque pedem ;
Has sibi fecuras delegit Copia sedes,

Has intra fulget Pompa superba fores.


Ah ! fors infelix inopi, feffoque senectâ !

Dum miser hìc menfæ fragmina parva rogo,

Inflatus foribus pinguedine fervus abegit;

I procùl hìnc, dixit, tecta minora pete.'


Ne mihi perfugium, tua tecta benigna recuses,

Quem premit hæc Boreæ vis, penetratque gelu ;
Jam jamque in tumulo mea membra fenilia ponam,

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Should I reveal the sources of my grief,

If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, Your hands would not with-hold the kind relief,

And tears of pity would not be represt.


Heav'n sends misfortunes; why should we repine ?

'Tis heav'n has brought me to the state you see ; And your condition may be soon like mine,

The child of sorrow and of misery.


A little farm was my paternal lot;

Then, like the lark, I sprightly hail'd the morn;

But ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot,

My cattle dy'd, and blighted was my corn;


My daughter, once the comfort of my age,

Lur’d by a villain from her native home,

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Si, bone, collibuit tantos audire labores,

Humanæ fortis tam miseranda mala,

Gutta memor nostrî faltèm stillabit ab ore,

Succurresque malis, fi tua corda movent,


Dî statuunt adversa, et sunt patienda ; mihique

Arbitrio fortem Di ftatuere fuo;

Atque tibi forfàn nectit crudelia fatum,

Te, moriture, manet non fugienda dies.


Tempus erat, lætus quo patria rura colebam,

Gratabar reducem, tunc, ut alauda, diem ;

Eheu! sed casulam mihi vis invidit iniqua,

Et periit morbo grex meus, igne seges.


Reftabat fenii fpes ultima, chara puella,

Quam mihi subduxit perfidus arte malâ ;



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