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“ Tollatis una voce Deum, gravi Qui liberavit servitio suos,

Sternente quo fastus superbos,

Barbaricæ cecidere turmæ.

“Nuper viator deseruit vias, Furum latebras insidiantium :

Tectisque pastores relictis

Contiguos petiere murcs

“ Urbisque tutæ præsidium : neque Siti laborantem ad latices gregem

Deduxit assuetos colonus,

Tela feri metuens latronis.

“ Sed barbarorum vim temerariam Jehova noster vindice dextera

Dejecit. Effusas Megiddæ

Propter aquas iniit duellum “Gens impiorum : sed superûm cohors Non auspicntos contudit impetus :

Pugnare de summo vel ipsa

Sidera sustinuere cælo.

“Rivusque (mirum) Kisoneus, Deo Jubente, ripis prosiluit suis,

Auctisque contorquens fugatas

Vorticibus rapuit catervas.

“O digna summa laude, per omnia Vivet superstes sæcla tuum decus, Jaëla ter felix, perennis

Gloria posterioris ævi.

“ Te barbarus te poscit aquam, siti Urgente, ductor: tuque coagula

Fers lactis, haud invita præbens

Munera, magnificaque lance

“Cibos reponis. Victima debitus Fatis, pericli nec sibi conscius,

Securus impendentis ictus,

Carpit humi requiem laborum.

" At mota sacri Numinis impetu, Plusquam et virili robore prædita,

Jaēla, tu casus iniquos

Isacidum miserata prensas

· Clavum, fabrili non sine malleo, Clavum trabalem : dux animam tuis

Exhalat ingentem sub armis,

Fæmineæ monumenta dextræ.

“En quà, fenestra prospiciens, moras Mater quadrigarum increpat anxia :

Quid, nate, quid nobis superbum

Pollicitus reditum moraris ?'

“Respondet astans turba satellitum, Respondet et mox ipsa sibi : Refert

Ex hoste congestas duelli

Exuvias, spoliis onustus, “Tardatque ovantem præda : tuas manus Captiva, victor, jam sequitur rotas :

Nectunt triumphanti corollas

Assyriæ ad citharam puellæ. “ Absint timores. Torquibus aureis Incinctus heros, progenies mea,

Gemmisque resplendens et ostro, et

Pictus acu chlamydem redibit.' “ IIæc illa, veri nescia ; nescia Quanto superbos proruat impetu

Vindex rebellantûm, at suorum

Spes simul et columen, Jehova.

GULTELMUS LONSDALE HETHERINGTON. SHAKESPEARE.

RICHARD II.

ACT V., SCENE II.

DUKE OF YORK AND HIS DUCHESS.

York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke ! Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried God save thee, Bolingbroke ! You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage ; and that all the walls, With painted imag’ry, had said at once, Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke! Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus,—I thank you, countrymen : And thus still doing, thus he passed along.

Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! -where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes

of

men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Even 80, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him ;

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ΕΒ. επείθ' ο κλεινός ταγός, ώσπερ είπομεν,

έφεδρος εν αμπυκτηρσιν εμβριμωμένου
ίππου, δοκούντος ειδέναι το δεσπότου
λίαν υπέρφρον λημα, σεμνός εισοράν
βραδυστόλος τ' ήλαυνε, του παντός λεω
επιρροθούντος, ίλεων έχους Θεόν,
Βολίμβροχή ώστε θυρίδας εξαυδάν τις αν
εδόξασ' αυτάς: βλέμμασιν λίχνοις τόσοι
νέοι τε και γέροντες υψόθεν δόμων
εις αυτόν ηκόντιζον όμμάτων βολάς:
και πάντα τείχη ποικίλαις γεγραμμένα
μορφαίς αν είποις τήνδ αφιέναι βοήν,
Θεός σε σώζοι, χαίρε, χαίρε, δέσποτα
οδ αύ, προς αλλότ' άλλον έγκλίνων δέμας,
ίππου κάτωθε της υπέρφρονος δέρης
ένευε, κράτα γυμνός, ώδ άει λέγων,
χάριν, πολίται, μυρίαν υμίν έχω

και ταυτό ποιών εις οδόν πορεύεται.
ΔΕΣ. oίμου Ριχάρδου που τότ' ήν ο δυστάλας;
ΕΒ. ως εν θεάτρους, ηνίκ αν σκηνήν λίπη

υποκριτής τις δεξιός, πάντες σχολή
τον εισίοντα διάδοχον κεχηνότες
βλέπουσ', έφολκούς τους λόγους ηγούμενοι,
ως και Ρίχαρδον, δυσμενεστέρως μεν ούν,
υπέβλεπεν στυγνοίσι πας τις όμμασιν

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home :
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, -
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,-
That bad not God, for some strong purpose, steeld
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events ;
To whose high will, we bound our calm contents.

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