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Awhile he throned her on the snowy hills
O'ercanopied with glare of northern dawn Where Hecla's front its liquid fire distils.
Anon, he twined her on the oaky lawn Of Albion's coast a seldom-fading bower, Corruptions mildews hence! it scurns the axe of Power.
many a fane
Then far in west he built her
To the hoarse sound of Civil Discords song, And proudly pointed to her future reign,
When swarthy tribes their sugar-isles among Should lisp her praise, and gathering whirlwinds bear Her deed-inspiring name to Gallia's troubled ear.
A COLLOQUIAL POEM.
Jacob! I do not love to see thy nose
Is he obstinate ?
Just what his gracious masters please to take ;
Again. Thou say'st
Jacob, thou can’st but make a monster of him,
The last charge he lives
And there ! that breeze
Tbe PIOUS PAINTER.
The story of the Pious Painter is related in the Pia Hilaria of Gazæus, but the Catholic Poet has omitted the conclusion. This is to be found in the Fabliaux of Le Grand.
THE FIRST PART.
There once was a Painter in Catholic days,
Like Job who eschewed all evil. Still on his Madonnas the curious may gaze With applause and with pleasure, but chiefly his praise
And delight was in painting the Devil,
They were Angels, compared to the Devils he drew,
Who besieged poor St. Anthony's cell ; Such burning hot eyes, such a damnable hue ! You could even smell brimstone their breath was so blue,
He painted the Devil so well.