25.2 LYRIC POEMS. Deaeritilla polos,esdeserit iste theatrum, Et tereti sacrum volvit in ease caput. " Sic, sic, inquit, abit noster comm- ilia vitae ; Terra vale, cmlùm plaudei tyranne ferì. Englished. On Saint Ardalio, who from a Stage- player became a Chri ,atian, and suf- fered Martyrdom: 1 ARDALIO jeers, and in bis comic strains The mysteries of our bleeding God profanes, While his loud laughter shakes the painted sgenes. S Heaven heard, and straight around the smoking throne, The kindlinglightning in thick flashes shone, [pose And vengeful thundermarmur'd to be 5 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." 4 Grace leaves the skies, and be the stage forsakes, He bows his head down to the martyr- ing axe, [speaks And as he bows, this gentle farewell 5 " So goes the comedy of life away ; Vain earth, adieu: heaven will ap- plaud to -day ; Strike courteous tyrant, and conclude the play." When the Protestant Church at Mont- pelier was demolished by the French King's order, the Protestants laid the stonesup in their burying-place, wherein a Jesuit made a Latin Epi- gram. Englished thus. A HUG'NOT church, once at Montpe- lier built, Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt' Toolong it stood beneath heav'n's angry. frown, [down, Worthy when rising to be thunder'd Lewis, at last, th' avenger of the skies, Commands, and level with the ground it lies: 'The stones dispers'd, their wretched offspring come, Gather, and heap them on their father's tomb, Thus the eurs'd house falls on the builder's head : And tho' beneath the ground their bones are laid, Yet the just vengeance still pursues the guilty dead. The Answer by a French Protestant. Englished thus: A CHRISTIAN church once at Mont- pelier stood, [God. And nobly spoke thé builder's zeal for It stood the envy ofthe fiercedragon, But not deserv'dto be destroy'd so soon: Yet Lewis, the wild tyrant of the age, Tears down the walls, a victim to his rage. [stones Youngfaithful hands pileup the sacred (Dear monument!) oer their dead fa- ther's bones ; The stones shall move when the dead fathers rise, Start up before the pale destroyer's eyes, And testify hismadness to th' aven- ging skies. Ties Happy Rivals, Devotion and the Muse. t WILD as the lightning, variousas the moon, Roves my Pindaric song : Ilere she glows like - burning noon In fiercest flames, and here she plays' Gentle as star beams on the midnight seas: Now in a smiling angel's form, Anon she rides upon the storm, Loud as the noisy thunder, as a de- luge strong; Are 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 strains, And o'er the laws of harmony, a soe reign queen she reigns. 2 If she roves By streams or groves Tuning her pleasures or her pains, My passion keeps her still in sight, My passion holds an equal flight Thro' love's, qr nature's wide cam- paigns. If with bold attempt she sings. Of the biggest mortal things, Tott'ring thrones and nations slain; Or breaks the fleets of warring kings, While thunders roar From shore to. shore, My soul sits fast upo her wings, And sweeps the imson surge, or scours the pur a plain ; Still I attend h as she flies, Round the bro d globe, and all be- neath the s ies. 3 But when from the meridian star Long streaks of glory shine, And heaven invites her from afar, She takes the hint she knows the sign, The music ascends her heav'nlycar, And climbs the steepy path and meansthe throne divine. Then she leaves my flutt'ring mind Clogg'd with clay, and rinrefin'd,
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