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CARDINALIS WOLSEIUS LOQUITUR.

AGNA vale, æternumque vale mea gloria! vitas

MAG

Sic hominum fua fata regunt: nunc læta virescit Gemma spei teneræ, cràs copia florea fplendet, Et tum purpurei passìm funduntur honores. Tertia lux oritur; glacies venit afpera plantis, Gloria cumque viro facili matura videtur, Frigore pertentans tempeftas excutit illam, Atque mei fimilis, fimilem dabit ille ruinam. Æftates multas puer ut lafcivit in undis, Utribus evectus, pelagi nimìs alta petivi; Me tandèm ambitio fluviis tumefacta reliquit Confectum, et totus fubmergor gurgite vasto. Odi te, fplendor, te vanaque gloria mundi!

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I feel my heart new opened. Oh! how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin,

More

pangs and fears, than war or women have;

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Never to hope again.

LA MORT REND TOUT EGAL.

SONG E.

JE fongeois cette nuit, que d' ennui confumé

Côte à côte d' un Pauvre on m' avoit inhumé,

Et que n' en pouvant pas fouffrir le voisinage,
En mots de qualité je lui tins ce language:
"Retire toi, coquin, va pourrir loin d'ici,
"Il ne t'appartient pas de m' approcher ainsi.”

" Co

Nubes obfcurans mentem nunc tollitur, & nunc

Sentio, quàm mifer eft, qui regum pendet amore.

Non Bellona ferox tali formidine terret

Gentes, nec mater tali diftricta dolore,

Quales intùs agit ftimulos fub pectore cura
Optatos inter rifus, certamque ruinam.

Et gravis eft cafus quando cadit, et cadit exfpes
Inftar Luciferi.

DIVESNE, PRISCO NATUS AB INACHO

NIL INTEREST, AN PAUPER ET INFIMA
DE GENTE.

HOR.

OMNO me quondam mortis ludebat imago,

SOMNO

Et videor juxta corpora, corpus iners.

Proximus hîc pauper tumulo putrebat eodem,

Me gravis ac movit faftus et ira loqui :·

"Hinc longè, longè difcedas vile cadaver,

"Ne tangat, ne me polluat ifta lues."

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« Coquin!" ce me dit-il, d' une arrogance extreme, "Va chercher les coquins ailleurs, coquin toi-même : "Ici tous font egaux ; je ne te dois plus rien,

"Je fuis fur mon Fumier, comme toi fur le tien."

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

FROM

I.

POPE.

VITAL spark of heav'nly flame,

Quit, oh quit this mortal frame;

Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,

Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!

Ceafe, fond Nature, cease thy ftrife,

And let me languish into life.

II.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,

"Sifter fpirit, come away:"

What

"Longiùs hinc abeas;" retulit vehementius ille;

Tu jam vile lutum, vile cadaver ego.

"Cedere non libet ; exæquat mortalia fatum :

"Hic mihi tam putrido væ locus, ifte tibi."

SUB MORTEM, CHRISTIANUS ITA SUAM

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ANIMAM ALLOQUITUR.

I.

NATE flammâ fpiritus igneâ,

Cur non caduco corpore profilis?

Quid quæritans, pavens, et optans,

Limine ftas vagabundus hofpes?

ē should not be woh hot

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II.

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Quàm dulce, fed quàm difficile, eft mori!

Natura, litem define, define,

Fruarque vitâ! jàm fufurrant

Coelicolæ, "Soror hùc adefto."

III.

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