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Nor crush a worm, whose useful light Might serve, however small,
To show a stumbling stone by night, And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine Is legible and plain,
'Tis pow'r almighty bids him shine, Nor bids him shine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has it's gem,
And boasts it's splendour too.
NIGRAS inter aves avis est, quæ plurima turres, Antiquas ædes, celsaque Fana colit.
Nil tam sublime est, quod non audace volatu,
Aeriis spernens inferiora, petit.
Quo nemo ascendat, cui non vertigo cerebrum
Corripiat, certè hunc seligit illa locum.
Quo vix à terrâ tu suspicis absque tremore,
Illa metûs expers incolumisque sedet.
Lamina delubri supra fastigia, ventus
Quâ cœli spiret de regione, docet ;
Hanc ea præ reliquis mavult, secura pericli,
Nec curat, nedum cogitat, unde cadat.
Res inde humanas, sed summa per otia, spectat,
Et nihil ad sese, quas videt, esse videt.
Concursus spectat, plateâque negotia in omni,
Omnia pro nugis at sapienter habet.
Clamores, quas infra audit, si forsitan audit,
Pro rebus nihili negligit, et crocitat.
Ille tibi invideat, felix Cornicula, pennas,
Qui sic humanis rebus abesse velit.
TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING.
THERE is a bird, who by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be suppos'd a crow;
A great frequenter of the church,
Where bishoplike he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.
Above the steeple shines a plate,
That turns and turns, to indicate
From what point blows the weather Look up your brains begin to swim, "Tis in the clouds-that pleases him, He chooses it the rather.
Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the rareeshow,
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his ease.
You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.
He sees, that this great roundabout,
The World, with all it's motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law,
It's customs, and it's businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,
And says what says he?-Caw.
Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men ;
And, sick of having seen 'em,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,
And such a head between 'em.
QUI meæ culina Argutulus choraules,
Et hospes es canorus,
Siquando me salutes,
Et ipse te rependam,
Et ipse, quâ valebo,
Et gratus inquilinus;
Nec victitans rapinis,
Ut sorices voraces,
Vulgus domesticorum ;
Sed tutus in camini
Contentus et calore.