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Breathing toward the Heavenly Country.
Cafimire, Book I. Od. 19. imitated..
"Urit me Patriæ Decor, &c."
THE beauty of my native land
I burn, I burn with strong desires,
A thousand lamps of golden light
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my fight,
Bright centinels who guard my Father's court,
When will my Father's chariot come ?
For ever fee the mourner lie
An exile of the sky,
A prifoner of the ground?
Defcend fome fhining fervants from on high,
Build me a hafty tomb;
A graffy turf will raife my head ;
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed;
Here I put off the chains of death,
My foul too long has worn:
Or tear to wet my urn;
Raphael, behold me all undreft,
Here gently lay this flesh to reft;
Then mount, and lead the path unknown,
Swift I purfue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of my own.
The HUNDREDTH EPIGRAM of CASSIMIRE.
On Saint Ardalio, who from a Stage-Player became a Chriftian, and fuffered Martyrdom.
ARDALIO jeers, and in his comic ftrains
The myfteries of our bleeding God profanes, While his loud laughter hakes the painted fcenes. Heaven heard, and ftrait around the fmoaking throne The kindling lightning in thick flashes shone, And vengeful thunder murmur'd to be gone.
Mercy ftood near, and with a fmiling brow
Calm'd the loud thunder; "There's no need of you;
"So goes the comedy of life away;
“Vain earth, adieu; Heaven will applaud to-day; "Strike, courteous tyrant, and conclude the play."
When the Proteftant Church at Montpelier was demolished by the French King's Order, the Proteftants laid Stones up in their Buryingplace, whereon a Jesuit made a Latin Epigram. Englished thus:
A Hug'not church, once at Montpelier built,
Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt; Too long it stood beneath heaven's angry frown, Worthy when rising to be thunder'd down. Lewis, at last, th' avenger of the skies, Commands, and level with the ground it lies : The ftones difpers'd, their wretched offspring come, Gather, and heap them on their father's tomb. Thus the curs'd house falls on the builder's head And though beneath the ground their bones are laid, Yet the juft vengeance ftill pursues the guilty dead.
The Answer by a French Protestant.
Chriftian church once at Montpelier ftood,
And nobly spoke the builder's zeal for God.
It stood the envy of the fierce dragoon,
But not deferv'd to be destroy'd fo soon :
Young faithful hands pile up the facred flones
(Dear monument !), o'er their dead fathers' bones; The ftones fhall move when the dead fathers rife, Start up before the pale destroyer's eyes,
And teftify his madness to th' avenging skies.
Two happy Rivals, Devotion and the Mufe.
as the lightning, various as the moon, Roves my Pindaric fong:
Here the glows like burning noon
In fiercest flames, and here fhe plays
Gentle as ftar-beams on the midnight feas;
Now in a smiling angel's form,
Anon fhe rides upon the ftorm,
Loud as the noify thunder, as a deluge strong.
my thoughts and wishes free,
And know no number nor degree?
The links and chains,
Measures and rules of vulgar strains,
And o'er the laws of harmony a Sovereign Queen the
If the roves
By streams or groves
Tuning her pleasures or her pains,
My paffion keeps her ftill in fight,
My paffion holds an equal flight
Through love's, or nature's wide campaigns.
If with bold attempt the fings
While thunders roar
From fhore to fhore,
My foul fits faft upon her wings,
And sweeps the crimfon furge, or fcours the purple plain; Still I attend her as he flies,
Round the broad globe, and all beneath the skies.
But when from the meridian ftar
Long streaks of glory shine,
The Mufe afcends her heavenly carr,
And climbs the freepy path and means the throne divine.
Clogg'd with clay, and unrefin'd,
And faint devotion panting lies
When fhall thefe hateful fetters break
That have confin' me long?