O how quickly, O how fleeting,
Glowing Summer rolled along,
Lilies, Posies, Pinks and Roses;

Nightless days and milkmaid's song.
That which once was frolic haytime,
Now is winter'y morning drear,
What was whylome Nature's daytime,
Seems the evening of the year.
O how quickly, O how fleeting,
Autumn's golden fruits are fled,
Scarce they're tasted but they're wasted
And the bough that bore them dead.
What just now was harvest feasting,
When the Horn of Plenty blew,
Vintage mirth, and merry jesting,
Ccas'd when brumal whirlwinds blew.

O how quickly, O how fleeting,

Will dark Winter's reign pas o'er; Other springs, our senses cheating,

Soon will bloom to bloom no more. What now is, is always waning, Flying Time will no more fly, But the eternal self remaining, Seek its mansion in the sky. Ah while each successive season Steals some friend, till all are gone,

Time is spinning, we are sinning,
Life's pale lamp is burning on.
Cares oppressing, fools caressing,
Toiling till our span is spun;
Hope we find the only blessing
Waiting the eternal Sun.

1

Hail then, Lady Star of Heaven,
Hear thy pilgrim's votive prayer,
Balm of woes whom God has given
To the mourner in despair;
That which once was giddy Pleasure's
Passing time, shall now be thine;
Thee I'll praise in deftest measures,
Virgin, now thine ear incline.

For since changeable and fleeting
Are all worldly pleasures here.
Spring and Summer always cheating,
Autumn waning, Winter near.
Brightest Star, for ever shining,
Round whose feet sweet Angels sing,
Help my soul, to God inclining,

To obtain the eternal Spring.

T. F.

Epithalamium. Salve grado Himeno Ya Hespero en el cielo Enciende fiel consuelo Là vela del amor.

Liega alla Selina

A su caro marido
Roxeante, en el vestido
De carinoso ardor.

Como en las florestas
Temprana y dichosa
Es la sagrada rosa
Pintada por Amor.

O Musas di Helicone
Euterpe y Clio amada
Con vestra voz sagrada
Centais en su honor.

Las dias di verano
Maja y pindada Flora
Pingan la terra abora
Con vario color.

Felex felix marido

A te echa sus brazos

En amorosos lazos

Objeto del amor.

Alla Santa Virgine.

Salve del ciclo sovrana
Bianca stella matutina

Degli angioli regina
Fonte del divin amor.

Salve delle grazie piena

Fra le donne ben stimata
Sposa figliuola nata

Madre vera del signor.

Solazio dei peccatori

Dei smarriti cinosura,
Lume chiaro, luce pura,
E perfetta castità.

Palma della pazienza,

Soave cassia odorata

Cedro dolce bene armata

Dell' eterna carità.

Il serpente già calcato
Sotto i vostri più dolente
Nella testa serbe sempre
L'alta impronta di bontà.

O Maria per me ora
Allegra la mia sorte

E nell'ora della morte

Fa morire in fedelta.

T. F.

Epigram inglese.

Ricco inglese vostra vita
É appunto un festino

Dolce cosa, ma vicino

A quel pranzare è il dormir.

Reflections on the following of a Guar-
dian Angel.

What is life but a garden of crosses?
What the world but a valley of tears?
Our gains are but preludes to losses,
Our hopes are all balanced by fears.
In the flowers of our gardens are breeding
The worms that devour the fruit;

And the flowers of our virtues want weeding
Of the nettles of sin at the root.

In objects of earthly devotion
All smiles are surrounded by scorns
Like

gems on a rough troubled ocean,
Like roses that bloom among thorns.
Then I'll plant me a garden of erosses,
And there on their merits repose,

That since all human pleasure but drosos is, They may help me to Heaven te St Rose,

Anthologia, Bor. et Aust.