صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Juxta crucem tecum stare,

Te libenter sociare,
In planetu desidero.
Virgo virginum præclara,
Mihi jam non sis amara,
Fac me tecum plangere.

VII.

Fac ut portem Christi mortem

Passionis fac consortem
Et plagas recolere.

Fac me plagis vulnerari,
Cruce hac inebriari,

Ob amorem Filii.

VIII.

Inflammatus et accensus,

Per te Virgo sim defensus,
In die judicii.

Fac me cruce custodiri,
Morte Christi præmuniri,
Confoveri gratia.

IX.

Quando corpus morietur
Fac ut animæ daretur

Paradisi gloria!

In sempiterna secula,

Amen!

Give me beneath the cross to stand

With thee, O Virgin, hand in hand,Let it be so !

Maid of maids, most pure, most holy, Spurn not one who seeks thee lowly, Let me weep with thee.

VII.

Strengthen me Christ's cross to bear; In His bitter passion share;

All His anguish see.

By His wounds let me be wounded, On His cross my hopes be grounded, In His love find power.

VIII.

Kindled into holy fervour,

Be thou Virgin my preserver,
In the judgment hour.

By Christ's cross may I be guarded,
Through His precious death rewarded,
In His grace rejoice.

IX.

At this mortal's last disruption

Let my soul in incorruption

Up to heaven rise!

For ever and ever,

Amen!

A MIDSUMMER DAY'S DREAM OF
DINAS BRAN.

What without mind is matter worth?
Lacking a history and a name,

A mountain's but a mass of earth,
Cities but stones set up in frame.

E'en man, the lord of all, as nil is,
His deeds unwritten or unsung;
What now would be the great Achilles
Had old Dan Homer held his tongue?

He might as well have gone on still
At romps and crôché with the Misses
Lycomedes, and balked the skill

And pedlar schemes of sage Ulysses.

And as with glory, sure I am

It is with learning, and it was well For great lexicographic Sam

To have his satellitic Boswell.

This little streamlet of reflection,
All trickling through my fancy ran,
As from Eglwyseg's proud projection
I contemplated DINAS BRAN:

Spectres of bartizan and bastion crowning

The rugged steep, by nature and by skill Adapted thus, seemed o'er the valley frowning, As if they held it in subjection still.

All looked as if it told, or ought to tell

A tale of elder time-adventure, battle,

High deeds and names, on which may proudly dwell Our memories in this age of peace and prattle.

[ocr errors]

Calling up spirits from the vasty deep"

Of History or Tradition ;-what are there Of such around these mouldering crags that sleep? Where is there story? Echo answers "Where?”

'Twas in a day and hour when red September's Meridian sun in floating solstice lay,

Making the naked crags burn like the embers
Of ruined worlds upon a judgment day.

Above-around-a trembling fervour played,
Like to the accents on a lover's tongue;
And in a doubtful halo thus arrayed,

O'er earth and sky a mystic mantle hung.

Lulled by the dreamy influence of the scene, With eyelids sometimes open, sometimes closing,

I fell into a state somewhat between

An owlet's waking and a weasel's dosing.

And musing what had been the "march of ages' On that embattled but unstoried crag,

I spied one of those modern pilgrimages

A pic-nic up the steep its "slow length drag."

At this reunion there were assisting

Things two and four legg'd of the usual classes, Of which as elements they're found consistingYoung men and maids, old ditto, horses, asses.

These elements, dividing or uniting,

Combined to form one grand harmonious whole, Which I might term a system, were I writing After the new and scientific school.

There was an antiquarian gent, haranguing
Profoundly upon murus-vallum—fosse— :
Here a botanic stripling, fondly hanging,
With well lens'd eye, o'er lichen, fern, and moss.

A geologic, with his hammer chipping
The rocks; a youth poetic spouting Byron ;
An adept into every puddle dipping,

To seek for indications there of iron.

There was a donkey troop, which bore a bevy Of ladies-matrons, damsels, widows, wives; While a bare-footed corps, with batons heavy,

And curses far from light, the squadron drives.

« السابقةمتابعة »