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Here I put off the chains of death
My soul too long has worn;

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Friends, I forbid one groaning breath
Or tear to wet my urn:
Raphael, behold me all undrest,
Here gently lay this flesh to rest,
Then mount and lead the path unknown,
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of my

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Casimiri Epigramma 100. In sanctum Ardalionem, qui ex mimo Christianus fa&us, mar.

tyrium, passus eft. ARDALIO facros deridet carmine ritus, Festaque non æquâ voce theatra quatit, Audiit Omnipotence; “ Non est opus," inquit, hiulco “Fulmine; tam facilem, gratia, vince virum.” Deserit illa polos, et deserit ifte theatrum, Et tereti sacrum volvit in ense caput.

Sic, fic,” inquit, “abit noftræ comædia vitæ; “ Terra vale, cælum plaude, tyranne feri.”

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Englished. On Saint Ardalio, wbo from a stageplayer became a Chris fian, and suffered martyrdom.

I. Ardalio jeers, and in his comick strains 'The myst’ries of our bleeding God profanes, While his loud laughter shakes the painted scenes. 3

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II. Heav'n heard, and straight around the smoking throne The kindling lightning in thick flashes shone, And vengeful thunder murmur'd to be gone.

Ill. Mercy stood near, and with a smiling brow Calm'd the loud thunder; “ There's no need of you; “ Grace shall descend, and the weak man subdue."9

IV. Grace leaves the skies and he the stage forsakes, He bows his head down to the martyring axe, And as he bows chis gentle farewell speaks; 12

V. “ So goes the comedy of life away; " Vain earth adieu! Heav'n will applaud to-day : “Strike, courteoustyrant, and conclude the play.” 15

When the Protifiant church at Montpelier was demolifoedd

by the French king's order, the Protefiants laid the phones up in their burying-place, whereon a Fefuit made a Lutin epigram,

Englithed thus. A Hug'not church once at Montpelier built Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt; Too long it stood beneath Heav'n's angry frown, Worthy when rising to be thunder'd down. Lewis at last, th’avenger of the skies, Commands, and level with the grourd it lies:

The stones dispers'd, their wretched offspring come,
Gather and heap them on their fathers' tomb.
Thus the curs'd house falls on the builder's head,
And tho' beneath the ground their bones are laid
Yet the just vengeance till pursues the guilty dead.

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The answer, by a French Proteftant,

Englithed thus.
A Christian church once at Montpelier stood,
And nobly spoke the builder's zeal for God:
It food the envy of the fierce Tragoon,
But not deserv'd to be destroy'd so foon:
Yer Lewis, the wild tyrant of the age,

5 Tears down the walls, a vistim to his rage. Young faithful hands pile up the facred stones (Dear monument!) o'er their dead fathers' bones; The stones shall move when the dead fathers rise, Start up before the pale destroyer's eyes, And testify his inadress to th'avenging kies. II

Two bappy rivals, Devotion and the Mufe.

1.
Wild as the lightning, various as the moon,
Roves my Pindarick fong;
Ilere she glows like burning noon

Are

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In fiercest flames, and here the plays
Gentle as starbcams on the midnight seas; 5
Now in a smiling angel's form
Anon the rides upon the storm
Loud as the noisy thunder, as a deluge strong.

my thoughts and wishes free,
And know no number nor degree?
Such is the Muse: lo she disdains
The links and chains
Measures and rules of vulgar Atrains, (reigns.
And o'er the laws of Harmony a fov’reign queen the

II. If she roves

15 By fireams or groves, Tuning her pleasures or her pains, My pailion keeps her still in sight, My passion holds an equal flight Thro’ Love's or Nature's wide champaigns. If with bold attempt the fings Of the biggest mortal things, Tott'ring thrones and nations (lain, Or breaks the fleets of warring kings, While thunders roar

25 From shore to shore My foul fits fait upon her wings,

(plain : And sweeps the crimson furge or scours the purple Still I attend her as flie flies Round the broad globe and all beneath the skies. 30 I'olume I'.

M

UI.
But when from the meridian star
Long streaks of glory shine,
And heav'n invites her from afar,
She takes the hint, she knows the fign;
The Mufe ascends her heav'nly car

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And climbs the steepy path and means the throne
Then she leaves my flutt'ring mind [divine.
Clogg'd with clay and unrefin'd
Lengths of distance far behind:
Virtue lags with heavy wheel;

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Faith has wings but cannot rise,
Cannot rise----swift and high
As the wing'd numbers fly,
And faint devotion panting lies
Half way th' ethereal hill.

IV.
O why is piety so weak
And yet the Muse so strong?
When shall these hateful fetters break
'That have confin'd me long?
Inward a glowing heat I feel,

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A spark of heav'nly day,
But earthly vapours damp my zeal,
And heavy flesh drags me the downward way:
Faint are the efforts of my will,
And mortal paflion charnis my soul astray. SS
Shine thou sweet hour of dear release,

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