GO, LOVELY ROSE.

Go, lovely rose !

Tell her that wastes her time and me,

That now she knows,

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

I, FORMOSA meæ dic rosa Lydiæ,

Quæ nunc et miserum me terit, et suum

Tempus, colligat ex hôc,

Illam quòd tibi comparo,

Quàm sit judicio pulchra et amabilis,
Prædulcisque meo; dic, rosa, virgini,

Quæ spectanda juventâ,

Et formâ, et facie, tamen

E visu refugit, si vacuis virûm
Desertisque fores edita tu locis,

Illaudata pêrisses.

Parvi gratia penditur

Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.

Then die; that she

The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee:

How small a part of time they share,

That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

WALLER.

Yet though thou fade,

From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise;

And teach the maid,

That goodness time's rude hand defies;

That virtue lives when beauty dies.

KIRKE WHITE.

Semota ex oculis; dic age, prodeat

In lucem, neque se sic vetet appeti,

Sic laudata rubescat.

Tum demum morere; ut tuâ

Illa in morte legat, quàm spatium breve Raris usque eadem lex dedit omnibus, Si quid suavius unquam,

Si quid sit speciosius.

Sed nympham e foliis dulcis odor tuis

Post mortem doceat, tempus ut invidum Spernit, vivaque floret

Virtus, cum periit decor.

March 11th, 1844.

EPITAPH IN WISBEACH CHURCHYARD.

BENEATH a sleeping infant lies;

To earth his body lent

Hereafter shall more glorious rise,

But not more innocent.

And when the Arch-angel's trump shall blow, And souls to bodies join,

Thousands shall wish their lives below

Had been as short as thine.