The Sancroft MS., as before, furnishes the following hitherto unprinted longer Poems, which I place under SACRED, as being throughout in subject and treatment such. The Rev. RICHARD WILTON, M.A., as before, has at once the praise and responsibility of the translations in the whole of this section. G.
O te te nimis et nimis beatum, Quem non lubricus implicavit error; Nec risu misero procax tumultus. Tu cum grex sacer undique execrandis Strident consiliis, nec aure felix; Felix non animo, vel ore mixtus, Haud intelligis impios susurros. Sed tu deliciis ferox repostis Cultu simplice, sobriaque cura Legem numinis usque et usque volvis. Laeta sic fidas colit arbor undas, Quem immiti violentus aura Seirius frangit, neque contumacis.
This fragment of a Latin rendering of the first Psalm may be compared with BUCHANAN'S, but, I fear, not to its advantage. It were superfluous to give a translation of it; but see the parallel which follows. G.
At tu, profane pulvis, et lusus sacer Cujusvis aurae; fronte qua tandem feres Vindex tribunal? quanta tum, et qualis tuae Moles procellae stabit? O quam ferreo Frangere nutu, praeda frontis asperae, Sacrique fulminandus ah procul, procul A luce vultus, aureis procul a locis, Ubi longa gremio mulcet aeterno pios. Sincera semper pax, et umbrosa super Insurgit ala, vividique nectaris Imbres beatos rore perpetuo pluit. Sic ille, sic, ô vindice, stat vigil, Et stabit ira torvus in impios, Seseque sub mentes bonorum Insinuat facili favore.
But thou, O dust profane, and of each air The plaything doom'd, with what face wilt thou bear The Judgment-throne? how huge a stormy cloud Will lower upon thee! how wilt thou be bow'd With iron nod, the prey of frowning Face, By thunder to be driven far off, apace, From light of sacred Countenance! afar From golden regions, where the righteous are, Sooth'd in pure Peace's lap eterne, whose wing Towers high above them, overshadowing; While happy showers of nectar sweet imbue Their lips, as with an everlasting dew. The wicked so His watchful ire will learn, And cower 'neath God's avenging countenance stern; The righteous so His love divine will feel With gentle lapse into their bosom steal. R. WI.
Ergo veni; quicunque ferant tua signa timores, Quae nos cunque vocant tristia, Christe, veni. Christe, veni; suus avulsum rapiat labor axem, Nec sinat implicitas ire redire vias; Mutuus attonito titubet sub foedere mundus, Nec natura vagum dissona volvat opus. Christe, veni; roseos ultra remeare per ortus Nolit, et ambiguos Sol trahat aeger equos. Christe, veni; ipsa suas patiatur Cynthia noctes, Plus quam Thessalico tincta tremore genas; Astrorum mala caesaries per inane dolendum Gaudeat, horribili flore repexa caput; Sole sub invito subitae vis improba noctis Corripiat solitam, non sua jura, diem; Importuna dies, nec Eoi conscia pacti, Per desolatae murmura noctis eat. Christe, veni; tonet Oceanus pater, et sua nolit Claustra vagi montes sub nova sceptra meent. Christe, veni; quodcunque audet metus, audeat ultra Fata id agant, quod agant; tu modo, Christe, veni. Christe, veni; quacunque venis mercede malorum. Quanti hoc constiterit cunque venire, veni. Teque tuosque oculos tanti est potuisse videre! O tanti est te vel sic potuisse frui! Quicquid id est, veniat. TU MODO, CHRISTE, VENI.