ADRIANI MORIENTIS ad Animam Suam.
ANIMULA vagula, blandula,
Hofpes, comefque corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in loca,
Pallidula, rigida, nudula?
Nec, ut foles, dabis joca.
By Monfieur FONTENELLE.
MA petite ame, ma mignonne,
Tu t'en vas donc, ma fille, & Dieu fache ou tù vast Tu pars feulette, nuë, & tremblotante, helas!
Que deviendra ton humeur folichonne ?
Que deviendront tant de jolis ébats ?
IMITATE D.
POOR, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Muft we no longer live together?
And doft thou prune thy trembling wing,
To take thy flight thou know'st not whither?
Thy humourous vein, thy pleafing folly,
Lies all neglected, all forgot:
And, penfive, wavering, melancholy,
Thou dread'ft and hop'ft thou know'ft not what.
A Paffage in the MORIA ENCOMIUM, of ERASMUs, imitated.
IN awful pomp, and melancholy state,
See fettled Reafon on the judgement-feat:
Around her croud Diftruft, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Forefight, and tormenting Care:
Far from the throne, the trembling Pleasures ftand,
Chain'd up, or exil'd by her ftern command.
Wretched her fubjects, gloomy fits the queen;
Till happy Chance reverts the cruel scene ;
And apifh Folly, with her wild refort
Of wit and jeft, difturbs the folemn court.
See the fantastic minstrelsy advance,
To breathe the fong, and animate the dance.
Bleft the ufurper! happy the furprize!
Her mimic poftures catch our cager eyes;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear,
And in the fights we fee, and founds we hear,
Against our judgement, fhe our fenfe employs;
The laws of troubled Reafon fhe destroys,
And in their place rejoices to indite
Wild fchemes of mirth, and plans of loofe delight.
PRACTICAL DISCOURSE Concerning DEATH.
ORGIVE the Mufe, who, in unhallow'd strains,
The Saint one moment from his God detains :
For fure, whate'er you do, where-e'er you are,
'Tis all but one good work, one conftant prayer :
Forgive her; and intreat that God, to whom
Thy favour'd vows with kind acceptance come,
To raise her notes to that fublime degree,
Which fuits a fong of piety and thee.
Wondrous good man! whofe labours may repel
The force of fin, may ftop the rage of hell;
Thou, like the Baptift, from thy God waft fent,
The crying voice, to bid the world répent.
The Youth fhall ftudy, and no more engage
Their flattering wifhes for uncertain age;
No more, with fruitlefs care and cheated ftrife,
Chafe fleeting pleasure through this maze of life;
Finding the wretched all they here can have,
But prefent food, and but a future grave:
Each, great as Philip's victor fon, shall view
This abject world, and, weeping, ask a new.
Decrepit Age fhall read thee, and confefs
Thy labours can affuage, where medicines ceafe;
Shall blefs thy words, their wounded foul's relief,
The drops that fweeten their laft dregs of life;
Shall look to Heaven, and laugh at all beneath;
Own riches gather'd, trouble; fame, a breath;
And Life an ill, whofe only cure is Death.
Thy even thoughts with fo much plainnefs flow,
Their fenfe untutor'd Infancy may know :
Yet to fuch height is all that plainnefs wrought,
Wit may admire, and letter'd pride be taught.
Eafy in words thy ftyle, in sense fublime,
On its bleft steps each age and sex may rife;
'Tis like the ladder in the Patriarch's dream,
Its foot on earth, its height above the skies:
Diffus'd its virtue, boundless is its power;
'Tis public health, and univerfal cure :
Of heavenly manna 'tis a fecond feast;
A nation's food, and all to every taste.
To its laft height mad Britain's guilt was rear'd;
And various death for various crimes fhe fear'd.
With your kind work her drooping hopes revive;
You bid her read, repent, adore, and live:
You wreft the bolt from Heaven's avenging hand;
Stop ready death, and fave a finking land.
O fave us fill: ftill blefs us with thy ftay:
O! want thy Heaven, till we have learnt the way:
Refufe to leave thy deftin'd charge too foon ;
And, for the church's good, defer thy own.
O! live; and let thy works urge our belief;
Live to explain thy doctrine by thy life;
Till future Infancy, baptiz'd by thee,
Grow ripe in years, and old in piety;
Till Chriftians, yet unborn, be taught to die.
Then, in full age and hoary holiness,
Retire, great teacher! to thy promis'd blifs :
Untouch'd thy tomb, uninjur'd be thy duft,
As thy own fame among the future jüst ;
Till in laft founds the dreadful trumpet fpeaks;
Till Judgement calls, and quicken'd Nature wakes;
Till, through the utmoft earth, and deepest fea,
Our scatter'd atoms find their deftin'd way,
In hafte to cloath their kindred fouls again,
Perfect our state, and build immortal man:
Then fearless thou, who well sustain'dst the fight,
To paths of joy, or tracts of endless light,
Lead up all those who heard thee, and believ'd;
'Midft thy own flock, great shepherd be receiv'd;
And glad all Heaven with millions thou haft fav'd.
CARMEN SECULARE, for the Year 1700. To the KING.
Afpice, venturo lætentur ut omnia fæc❜lo : "O mihi tam longæ maneat pars ultima vitæ "Spiritus, & quantum fat erit tua dicere facta!"
HY elder look, great Janus, caft Into the long records of ages paft: Review the years in fairest action drest With noted white, fuperior to the rest;
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