The Lord the Creator.
Beneath thy all-directing rod
Both worlds and worms are equal, God.
Thy hand the comet's orbit drew,
And lighted yonder glowworm too.
Thou didst the dome of heaven build up,
And form yon snowdrop's silver cup.
Deus est quodcumqve vides.
Rerum summe parens, tuae bilances
Mundos lege pari librantqve vermes.
Qvae scripsit manus orbitam cometae,
Et lampyridis edidit lucernam.
Caeli tu rutilum lacunar idem
Et lili niveam creas corollam.
The world is grown old, and her pleasures are past;
The world is grown old, and her form may not last;
The world is grown old, and trembles for fear:
For sorrows abound, and judgment is near.
The sun in the heaven is languid and pale,
And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale;
And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear:
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near.
The king on his throne, the bride in her bower,
The children of pleasure, all feel the sad hour:
The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer:
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near.
The world is grown old: but should we complain,
Who have tried her, and know that her promise is vain?
Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here,
And we look for our crown when judgment is near.
"The fathers are in dust, yet live to God:"
So says the Truth; as if the motionless clay
Still held the seeds of life beneath the sod,
Smouldering and struggling till the judgment-day.
And hence we learn with reverence to esteem
Of these frail houses, though the grave confines :
Sophist may urge his cunning tests, and deem
That they are earth;-but they are heavenly shrines.
Consenuit tellus fugitivaqve gaudia ponit;
Consenuit mundi non iam durabilis ordo,
Consenuit, vastoqve omnis terrore tremiscit,
Dum vis iudicio crescit veniente dolorum.
Pallidus attonito langvescit in aethere Titan ;
Vallis habet tenui minuentes ubere fructus;
Horrescunt gentes, depressae corda timore,
Qvod nunc iudicium mundo canente propinqvat.
In solio princeps, sub amoeno tegmine nupta,
Gaudia deponunt: maeret deiecta Voluptas;
Deperiere rosae; marcent Bacchusqve Ceresqve,
Iudicium mundo cum iam canente propinqvet.
Consenuit mundus; qvid nos, pia turba, qveramur,
Gnara diu vitae, nec rebus credula vanis?
Qvis caelum in voto est, non hac in sede morari,
Nobis iudicio dat spes veniente coronam.
Vivit adhuc veterum, qvi sunt in pulvere, patrum
Cara Deo, docuit sic Deus ipse, cohors,
Ceu premerentur humo luctantia semina vitae,
Dum rupto eliceret caespite summa dies.
Has itaqve exuvias, qvamvis sapientia mendax
Mole putet tumuli semper inerte premi,
Debita conservat reverentia; qvaeqve sophistes
Esse lutum fingit, sunt ea templa Dei.
In childhood, when, with eager eyes,
The season-measured year I viewed,
All, garbed in fairy guise,
Pledged constancy of good.
Spring sang of heaven; the summer flowers.
Let me gaze on, and did not fade;
Even suns o'er autumn's bowers
Heard my strong wish, and stayed.
They came and went, the short-lived four;
Yet, as their varying dance they wove,
To my young heart each bore
Its own sure claim of love.
Far different now!-the whirling year
Vainly my dizzy eyes pursue,
And its fair tints appear
All blent in one dusk hue.
Why dwell on rich autumnal lights,
Spring-time, or winter's social ring?
Long days are fireside nights,
Brown autumn is fresh spring.
Then what this world to thee, my heart?
Its gifts nor feed thee nor can bless;
Thou hast no owner's part.
In all its fleetingness.
The flame, the storm, the quaking ground, Earth's joy, earth's terror, nought is thine; Thou must but hear the sound
Of the still voice divine.
O princely lot! O blissful art!
E'en while by sense of change opprest,
Thus to forecast in heart
Heaven's age of fearless rest.
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