XVIII.

Obtulit eis pecunias. Act. viii. 18.

Quorsum hos hic nummos profers? quorsum, impie Si

mon?

Non ille hic Judas, sed tibi Petrus adest.
Vis emisse Deum potius, precor, hoc age, Simon,
Si potes, ipse prius daemona vende tuum.

He offered them money.

Money! what wouldst thou, impious? Look and see,

'Tis Peter, not Iscariot, speaks to thee.

Wouldst thou buy God? Nay, Simon, change thy tone,

And try to sell that demon of thine own.

CL.

XIX.

Umbra S. Petri medetur aegrotis. Act. v. 15.

Conveniunt alacres, sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras,
Atque umbras fieri, creditis? umbra vetat.
O Petri umbra potens, quae non miracula praestat?
Nunc quoque, Papa, tuum sustinet illa decus.

The shadow of St. Peter heals the sick.

Beneath that shadow they delight to crowd;
To turn to shades by that shade not allow'd.
From Peter's shadow what may we not hope,
Now all thy glory it sustains, O Pope!

G.

XXI.

Sacerdos quidam descendens eadem via vidit, et praeteriit.
Luc. x. 32.

Spectasne, ah, placidisque oculis mea vulnera tractas?
O dolor! ô nostris vulnera vulneribus!

Pax oris quam torva tui est! quam triste serenum !
Tranquillus miserum qui videt, ipse facit.

And a certaine priest comming that way looked on him, and passed by.

Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by,

Handling and turning them with an unwounded eye? The calm that cools thine eye does shipwrack mine;

for O,

Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so. CR.

ANOTHER RENDERING.

Dost look upon my wounds, serene-faced Priest?

Thy placid eyes give wounds more deep and sore.

O, thy calm stare avert! pass on, at least :

They who see woe unmov'd cause it, and more. G.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Canst look, and by with look so tranquil pass,

Nor heed my wounds? O, wounds on wounds, alas ! O peace, too grim! on it set little store:

Who looks unmov'd on misery makes it more.

VOL. II.

A.

h

XXII.

Leprosi ingrati. Luc. xvii.

Dum linquunt Christum, al morbus! sanantur euntes:
Ipse etiam morbus sic medicina fuit.

At sani Christum, mens ah male-sana! relinquunt:
Ipsa etiam morbus sic medicina fuit.

The ungrateful lepers.

Whilst leaving Christ-ah, fell disease!--
They're healed as they go:

Their malady their medicine is,

Because He will'd it so.

But healed now-ah, mind diseas'd!—
They from the Lord depart:

Their healing their disease is now,

Bred in an ingrate heart.

G.

XXIII.

Ne soliciti estote tu crastinum. Matt. vi. 34.

I, miser, inque tuas rape non tua tempora curas :
Et nondum natis perge perire malis.
Mi querulis satis una dies, satis angitur horis :
Una dies lacrymis mi satis nda suis.
Non mihi venturos vacat expectare dolores :
Nolo ego, nolo hodie crastinus esse miser.

Be ye not fretted about to-morrow.

Go, wretched mortal, antedate the day,
Fill thee with care;

Work thyself mis'ries, in a perverse way,
Before they're there.

Enough for me the day's cares in the day,
The passing hour;

Enough the tears that daily, yea or nay,
In sorrow low'r.

I have no leisure thus to antedate

The coming woe,

Nor to-day darken with to-morrow's fate;

And so I go.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Wretch, to thy woes add not

to-morrow morn;

And haste not thou to

groan with ills unborn.

Each day's laments, each

hour's griefs, me suffice;

Each morn, noon, eve, with

rueful weeping eyes.

No leisure is to look for

griefs to be:

Stir not to-day to-morrow's

G.