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FROM AN ENGRAVING BY HROBINSO, AFTER A DRAWING BY W. HARVEY OF THE

ORIGINAL BY DEVIS

II Instead of a pound or two spending a mint Must serve me at least, I believe, with a hint That, building and building, a man may be driven At last out of doors, and have no house to live in.

To Mary

The twentieth year is well-nigh past ,
Since first our sky was overcast;
Ah, would that this might be the last,

My Mary!
Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
I see thee daily weaker grow;
'Twas my distress that brought thee low,

My Mary!
Thy needles, once a shining store,
For my sake restless heretofore,
Now rust disused and shine no more,

My Mary!

For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil
The same kind office for me still,
Thy sight now seconds not thy will,

My Mary!
But well thou playedst the housewife's part,
And all thy threads with magic art
Have wound themselves about this heart,

My Mary!
Thy indistinct expressions seem
Like language uttered in a dream ;
Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme,

My Mary!
Thy silver locks, once auburn bright,
Are still more lovely in my sight
Than golden beams of orient light,

My Mary!
For, could I view nor them nor thee,
What sight worth seeing could I see?
The sun would rise in vain for me,

My Mary!

Partakers of the sad decline,
Thy hands their little force resign:
Yet, gently prest, press gently mine,

My Mary!
And then I feel that still I hold
A richer store ten thousandfold
Than misers fancy in their gold,

My Mary!
Such feebleness of limbs thou provest,
That now at every step thou movest
Upheld by two, yet still thou lovest,

My Mary!
And still to love, though prest with ill,
In wintry age to feel no chill,
With me is to be lovely still,

My Mary !
But ah ! by constant heed I know,
How oft the sadness that I show
Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,

My Mary!

And should my future lot be cast
With much resemblance of the past,
Thy worn-out heart will break at last,

My Mary!

MONTES GLACIALES

IN OCEANO GERMANICO NATANTES

En, quæ prodigia, ex oris allata rennotis,
Oras adveniunt pavefacta per æquora nostras!
Non equidem priscæ sæclum rediisse videtur
Pyrrhæ, cum Proteus pecus altos visere montes
Et sylvas, egit, sed tempora vix leviora
Adsunt, evulsi quando radicitus alti
In mare descendunt montes, fluctusque pere prant.
Quid vero hoc monstri est magis et mirabile visu ?
Splendentes video, ceu pulchro ex ære vel auro
Conflatos, rutilisque accinctos undique gemmis,
Baccâ cæruleâ, et flammas imitante pyropo.

Ex oriente adsunt, ubi gazas optima tellus
Parturit omnigenas, quibus æva per omnia sumptu
Ingenti finxêre sibi diademata reges ?
Vix hoc crediderim. Non fallunt talia acutos
Mercatorum oculos : prius et quàm littora Gangis
Liquissent, avidis gratissima præda fuissent.
Ortos unde putemus ? An illos Ves’vius atrox
Protulit, ignivomisve ejecit faucibus Ætna?
Luce micant propriâ, Phæbive, per aëra purum
Nunc stimulantis equos, argentea tela retorquent ?
Phæbi luce micant. Ventis et fluctibus altis
Appulsi, et rapidis subter currentibus undis,
Tandem non fallunt oculos. Capita alta videre est
Multâ onerata nive et canis conspersa pruinis.
Cætera sunt glacies. Procul hinc, ubi Bruma ferè omnes
Contristat menses, portenta hæc horrida nobis
Illa strui voluit. Quoties de culmine summo
Clivorum fluerent in littora prona solutæ
Sole nives, propero tendentes in mare cursu,
Illa gelu fixit. Paulatim attollere sese
Mirum cæpit opus; glacieque ab origine rerum
In glaciem aggestå sublimes vertice tandem
Æquavit montes non crescere nescia moles.
Sic immensa diu stetit æternumque stetisset
Congeries, hominum neque vi neque mobilis arte,
Littora ni tandem declivia deseruisset,
Pondere victa suo. Dilabitur. Omnia circum
Antra et saxa gemunt, subito concussa fragore,
Dum ruit in pelagum, tanquam studiosa natandi,
Ingens tota strues. Sic Delos dicitur olim,
Insula, in Ægæo fluitâsse erratica ponto.
Sed non ex glacie Delos; neque torpida Delum
Bruma inter rupes genuit nudum sterilemque;
Sed vestita herbis erat illa, ornataque nunquam
Deciduâ lauro ; et Delum dilexit Apollo. At
Vos, errones horrendi, et caligine digni
Cimmeriâ, Deus idem odit. Natalia vestra,
Nubibus involvens frontem, non ille tueri
Sustinuit. Patrium vos ergo requirite cælum !
Ite! Redite ! Timete moras ; ni leniter austro
Spirante, et nitidas Phæbo jaculante sagittas
Hostili vobis, pereatis gurgite misti !

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