 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
44
CATHEMERINON.
“Per Quinquennia jam decem ni fallor, fuimus!” &c.
Have flown (scarce less) since I
Drank the sweet vital air, the solar beam,—
And was my life a dream,
A blank and useless void, unmarked by good?
Since first a child, I stood
Beneath the master's chastening rod, or when
Mixing, a man, with men,
I took the youthful toga, and the boon
Of boundless freedom—soon
Ah! sullying soon, the modest cheek of youth,
Its innocence and truth.
Then mixing in the forum, and the war
Of words;—made worse appear
The better reason, arguing for a lie,
The pleader's sophistry.
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O'er many a goodly city, sway
I held of Prefect, tempering the law discreet,
Evil and good to meet.
Till now advanced, so did the Prince's eye
My weak deserts descry,
Second in rank I stood by Cæsar's throne.—
Ah! me! for life had flown
Swiftly the while, and silent;—Of the speed
Of time not taking heed,
Or how far back the lengthening annals date
Of Salias' Consulate,
Stamp of my birth!—These scattered locks declare
How many a season fair,
Fresh with the vernal rose, the summer bloom
I've seen;—anon the tomb
Shall level all my glory—all shall be
Erewhile alike to me.
Therefore, mature in wisdom, now be heard
My monitory word.
“The world thou lovest, surely thou shalt lose;”
Unwisely didst thou choose.
But let the sinful soul i' the dying day,
Its follies past away,
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With song and praise proclaim.
The Lord Jehovah—let thine anger strike
The Heretic alike
And Heathen superstition—let thy voice
With tidings glad rejoice
Through Rome; and the brute gods and idols be
Scattered in dust.—A cry
Lift up to heaven; hymning with harp and psalms
The robes, the waving palms,
The wreath of glory round the Apostles' brows,
And her—the Virgin spouse.
So rapt my soul in penitence and praise,
Gladly my mortal days
Would I shake off—and when my dying tongue
And falt'ring speech have sung,
E'en to its latest accents—then in Heaven
May I be found—forgiven.
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