Quo sua crimina jure auro derivet avarus,
Aurum animæ pretium qui cupit atque capit?
Lege pari gladium incuset sicarius atrox
Caso homine, et ferrum judicet esse reum.

PAPILIO ET LIMAX.

Qui subito ex imis rerum in fastigia surgit,
Nativas sordes, quicquid agatur, olet.

VOTUM.

O MATUTINI rores, auræque salubres,
O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ,
Graminei colles, et amœnæ in vallibus umbræ !
Fata modò dederint quas olim in rure paterno
Delicias, procul arte procul formidine novi,
Quam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper avebat,
Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam,
Tum demùm exactis non infeliciter annis,
Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi.

W. C.

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME DE LA MOTHE GUYON.

[WHEN Mr. Newton left Olney, he prevailed on Cowper to receive Mr. Bull, of Newport Pagnell. The poet painted a glowing portrait of his new friend-"a dissenter, but a liberal one; a man of letters and of genius; a master of a fine imagination, or rather not master of it; with a tender and delicate sort of melancholy in his disposition, not less agreeable in its way." But nothing is perfect, and "the Bull," as his friend delighted to call him, smoked tobacco. He had not known Cowper a long time, when he put into his hands three volumes of poetry by Madame Guyon, in the hope that it might soothe his troubled spirit. He was, Cowper told Unwin, "her passionate admirer, rode twenty miles to see her picture in the house of a stranger, which stranger politely requested his acceptance of it. It is a striking portrait, too characteristic not to be a strong resem

blance, and were it encompassed with a glory, instead of being dressed in a nun's hood, might pass for the face of an angel." Cowper was greatly pleased with this lady. Her poetry was the only French verse that he ever read with satisfaction, and the neatness of it reminded him of Prior. But he could not be insensible to one prominent defect-a familiarity of speech in spiritual things—"a wonderful fault," he said, "for such a woman to fall into, who spent her life in the contemplation of God's glory, who seems to have been always impressed with a sense of it, and sometimes qute absorbed in the views she had of it." In this point he particularly guarded nis translation, either by suppressing objectionable passages, or by giving to them a more respectful tone of expression. The name of Guyon is familiar to the readers of French ecclesiastical history as the subject of a controversy between Fenelon and Bossuet, pursued on one side, at least, with singular bitterness and pride. Mr. Hallam divides the mystical writers into two classes: the first, believing in the illumination of the soul by an immediate communication of the Deity; the second, seeking a sort of absorption into the Divine Essence through the solemnizing influences of pure contemplation. Among these Madame Guyon had her place. All the care of Cowper failed in correcting the familiarity which he acknowledged; and the metre which he occasionally employed was most unfortunate, as recalling not only the music, but the themes of Shenstone's amatory pastorals. Southey doubted the expediency of this work in Cowper's unquiet frame of mind, and believed the passages on which he brooded most to be those that seemed applicable to his own imaginary condition. He quotes, by way of example, the following stanzas, remarking the extreme freedom of the translation, which bears a personal allusion:-

"Si vous me demandez ce je crois de moi,
Je n'en connois aucune chose;

Jadis je vivois par la foi,

C'est dans la rien que je repose.

"Un neant malheureux, qui ne demande pas
Qu'on lui fasse changer de place;

Etat pire que le trepas,

Et qui n'attend jamais de

grace."

"My claim to life, though sought with earnest care,
No light within me, or without me, shows;

Once I had faith, but now in self-despair
Find my chief cordial, and my best repose.

"My soul is a forgotten thing, she sinks,

Sinks and is lost, without a wish to rise;
Feels an indifference she abhors, and thinks
Her name erased for ever from the skies."

THE LOVE OF GOD THE END OF LIFE.

SINCE life in sorrow must be spent,
So be it-I am well content,
And meekly wait my last remove,
Seeking only growth in love.

No bliss I seek, but to fulfil
In life, in death, thy lovely will;
No succours in my woes I want,
Save what thou art pleased to grant,

Our days are number'd, let us spare
Our anxious hearts a needless care:
"Tis thine to number out our days;
Ours to give them to thy praise.
Love is our only business here,
Love, simple, constant, and sincere;
O blessed days, thy servants see,
Spent, O Lord! in pleasing thee!

LOVE FAITHFUL IN THE ABSENCE OF
THE BELOVED.

In vain ye woo me to your harmless joys,
Ye pleasant bowers, remote from strife and noise;
Your shades, the witnesses of many a vow,
Breathed forth in happier days, are irksome now;
Denied that smile 'twas once my heaven to see,
Such scenes, such pleasures, are all past with me
In vain he leaves me, I shall love him still;
And, though I mourn, Lot murmur at his will;
I have no cause-an object all divine
Might well grow weary of a soul like mine;
Yet pity me, great God! forlorn, alone,
Heartless and hopeless, life and love all gone.

LOVE PURE AND FERVENT.

JEALOUS, and with love o'erflowing
God demands a fervent heart;
Grace and bounty still bestowing,
Calls us to a grateful part.

Oh, then, with supreme affection
His paternal will regard!
If it cost us some dejection,
Every sigh has its reward.

Perfect love has power to soften
Cares that might our peace destroy,
Nay, does more-transforms them often,
Changing sorrow into joy.

Sovereign Love appoints the measure
And the number of our pains;
And is pleased when we find pleasure
In the trials he ordains.

THE ENTIRE SURRENDER. PEACE has unveil'd her smiling face, And woos thy soul to her embrace, Enjoy'd with ease, if thou refrain From earthly love, else sought in vain, She dwells with all who truth prefer, But seeks not them who seek not her. Yield to the Lord, with simple heart, All that thou hast, and all thou art; Renounce all strength but strength divine, And peace shall be for ever thine: Behold the path which I have trod, My path, till I go home to God.

THE PERFECT SACRIFICE.

I PLACE an offering at thy shrine,
From taint and blemish clear,
Simple and pure in its design,
Of all that I hold dear.

I yield thee back thy gifts again,
Thy gifts which most I prize;
Desirous only to retain

The notice of thine eyes.

But if, by thine adored decree,
That blessing be denied;
Resign'd, and unreluctant, see
My every wish subside.

To lay the soul that loves him low,
Becomes the Only-wise:

To hide, beneath a veil of woe,

The children of the skies.

Man, though a worm, would yet be great;
Though feeble, would seem strong;
Assumes an independent state,

By sacrilege and wrong.

Strange the reverse, which, once abased,
The haughty creature proves!

He feels his soul a barren waste,
Nor dares affirm he loves.

Scorn'd by the thoughtless and the vain, ·
To God he presses near;
Superior to the world's disdain,
And happy in its sneer.

Oh welcome, in his heart he says,
Humility and shame!

Farewell the wish for human praise,
The music of a name!

But will not scandal mar the good
That I might else perform?
And can God work it, if he would,
By so despised a worm?

Ah, vainly anxious!—leave the Lord
To rule thee, and dispose;
Sweet is the mandate of his word,
And gracious all he does.

He draws from human littleness
His grandeur and renown;

And generous hearts with joy confess
The triumph all his own.