II.

SILVARUM videor notos audire susurros,

Carminibus nostræ murmura mista lyræ—

Nec procul et flavi vox Gretæ fertur ad aures,
Hæc audire diu me mea fata vetant.

Jam patrias sedes et dulcia linquimus arva,

Cogimur invitam deproperare fugam :

Hinc prius Auroræ quam fax micet ire necesse est, Ceu Lemures, trepidos quos fugat orta dies.

Mox ea tecta ruent majoribus edita nostris,

Mox vetus e muris rapta tabella cadet :

Tam dilecta diu domus et tam culta premetur, Et finem obscurum nacta erit ante diem. Nulla dabit numeros Lalage, nec rursus amatum

Hæc lustra accipient jam referentque melos:

Sed tamen in seros olim memorabitur annos,

Quæ fuerit priscis causa doloris heris.

II. continued.

The lady paused, and then again
Resumed the lay in loftier strain.

Let our halls and towers decay,
Be our name and line forgot,

Lands and manors pass away—

We but share our monarch's lot.

If no more our annals show

Battles won and banners taken,

Still in death, defeat, and woe,

Our's be loyalty unshaken.

Constant still in danger's hour,

Princes owned our fathers' aid:

Lands and manors, wealth and power
Well their loyalty repaid.
Perish wealth, and power, and pride!

Mortal boons by mortals given,

But let Constancy abide,

Constancy's the gift of Heaven.

SIR W. SCOTT.

II.-continued.

Hæc effata silet virgo, paullumque moratur,

Deinde eadem cantu nobiliore refert. Atria victa situ languescant, squaleat aula, Nomina depereant, et domus alta cadat :

Limina quin nobis et agri rapiantur aviti—

Quod patimur, rex est passus et ipse, malum. Si neque jam nostros inscripta sit ulla triumphos Pagina, nec nostra rapta tropæa manu, Per clades maneat mortemque, per omne periclum Fidus et in fido pectore Regis amor.

Rex olim multus dubio in discrimine rerum

Nostrorum patrum sollicitabat opem.

Prædia, divitiæ, summique dabantur honores,
Quæ tantam possent æquiparare fidem.

Divitiæ pereant et opes, rapiantur honores !

Quot brevis ipse homini dat, breve munus, homo.

At secura fides longos intacta per annos

Floreat hæc homini dona dat ipse Deus.

III.

HADST thou but lived, though stripped of power,

A watchman on the lonely tower;

Thy thrilling trump had roused the land,

When fraud or danger were at hand;

By thee, as by the beacon-light,

Our pilots had kept course aright;

As some proud column, though alone,

Thy strength had propped the tottering throne.

Now is the stately column broke,

The beacon-light is quenched in smoke,

The trumpet's silver sound is still,

The warder silent on the hill!

SIR W. SCOTT.

III.

Si tibi sors dederat vitam vel honore relicto,

Si vigil in sola turre superstes eras;

Tu mala monstrares, tuba ceu prænuntia belli,

Esset et indiciis fraus manifesta tuis.

Te non e specula fulgeret certior ignis,
Iret et ad portum te duce tuta ratis.

Instar enim vastæ, quamvis stet sola, columnæ

Vis tua labentes sola levasset opes.

Heu! celsam oppressit strages infausta columnam ! Heu! fumo speculæ fax adoperta perit!

Non ciet argutum tuba, quem dabat ante, canorem,

Conticuit, summa qui stetit arce, vigil.