Page images

Then soft and low a voice was heard

Say, Mary, weep no more for me.'


She from her pillow gently rais’d

Her head, to ask who there might be, And faw young Sandy, shiv'ring, stand,

With pallid cheek and hollow eye: « O Mary dear, cold is my clay,

« It lies beneath the stormy sea,

« Far, far from thee, I sleep in death,

u So Mary weep no more for me.


« Three stormy nights and stormy days,

u We toss’d upon the raging main, And long we strove our bark to save, « But all our striving was in vain :

Cum tecto exilis vox est audita filenti,

« Desine væ! fetus, chara Maria, tuos.”


Illa caput paulùm lecto, perculfa, levabat,

Quæsitura velut, quid foret ille sonus,

Sandy videt stantem, tremebundum frigore spectrum ;

Concavus eft oculus, palluerantque genæ :

6 Cara Maria ! meum domuit mors frigida corpus;

“ Jamque artus gelidos, offaque pontus habet;

« Hinc procul, in longum folvuntur lumina somnum;

" Define væ! fetus, define, chara, tuos.


. Tres noctes, totidemque dies, super æquora sæva,

“ Huc, illuc, quaflam dispulit unda ratem ;

« Nitimur adversi, longum tulimusque laborem,

« Omnis nequicquam sed fuit ifte labor.

« E’en then, when horror chilld my blood,

" My heart was fill'd with love for thee.

“ The storm is past, and I at rest,

“ So Mary weep no more for me.


« O maiden dear, thyself prepare,

" We foon shall meet upon that shore,

“ Where love is free froin doubt and care,

" And thou and I shall part no more.'

Loud crow'd the cock-the shadow fled;

No more of Sandy could she see;

But soft the passing spirit said,

“ So Mary weep no more for me."

“ At tunc, membra mihi gelidus cum perculit horror,

« Tunc etiam caluit pectore fidus amor ; « Actum eft, tempestas filuit, nunc ipfe quiesco,

« Define va! Aetus, define, chata, tuos.


“ Nec tibi longa fora ést; aderis duléissiinä virgo;

« Nos melior sedés, oraque læta manet,

« Quâ fecurus amor; nec mors disjunget amantes,

“ Nec mentem póterit follićitare timor."

Signa dedit cañtü gallus : difceflit imagộ:

Et nusquam pótuit čeřnere Sandy fuum,
Lenè fed increpitans, dum præterlabitur umbra,

« Desine," ait, « fetus, chara Maria, tuos.”

[ocr errors][merged small]



WAY! let nought to love displeasing,


My Winifreda, move your care ; Let nought delay the heavenly blessing,

Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.


What tho' no grants of royal donors,

With pompous titles, grace our blood ;

We'll shine in more substantial honours,

And, to be noble, we'll be good.


Our name, while virtue thus we tender,

Will sweetly found where-e'er 'tis spoke ; And all the great ones, they shall wonder,

How they respect such little folk.

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »