Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table crumbs Attract his slender feet. The foodless wilds The hare, Though timorous of heart, and hard beset By death in various forms, dark snares and dogs, earth, With looks of dumb despair; then, sad dispersed, Dig for the wither'd herbs through heaps of snow. THOMPSON. (Ridentes transversa tuens) it passibus æquis, Quaque sit admirans, rostro petit et tremit alas. Jamque levi pede, rebus ubi se assuevit, in ipsa Frusta legit mensa, Furvum genus aspera mittunt (Defit enim cibus) arva. Lepus, cui pectus inaudax, Quam plaga quamque canes et plurima mortis imago, Quamque premit cunctis homo durior, ipsa propin quat (Vim dedit esuries) hortos. Videt æthera tristem Balantum pecus, arva videt splendentia, muto Spem positam fassum obtutu. Tum tristiter imo E nive marcentes effossum spargitur herbas. R "LEAVES HAVE THEIR TIME TO FALL." LEAVES have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set: but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings at the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer: But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth! The banquet has its hour, The feverish hour of mirth and song and wine: There comes a day for grief's overwhelming shower, A time for softer tears: but all are thine. "Debemur morti nos nostraque." KAP. 1, 53, FRONDES est ubi decidant, Marcescantque rosæ flatu Aquilonio : Horis astra cadunt suis; Sed, Mors, cuncta tibi tempora vindicas. Curis nata virum dies; Vesper colloquiis dulcibus ad focum; Somnis nox magis, et preci: Sed nil, Terrigenum maxima, non tibi. Festis hora epulis datur, (Fervens hora jocis, carminibus, mero;) Fusis altera lacrymis Aut fletu tacito: quæque tamen tua. |