XVI.

When to our prayers and sighs soft murmur'd

nigh,

Her drowsy, torpid soul could scarce attend, Press'd to her dying lips in agony,

Like a last faithful friend;

XVII.

To light the gloom of that so drear abyss, To raise to God her hopes, her fears allay, Blest comforter, whose image still I kiss, Reply!-what didst thou say?

XVIII.

Thou, thou know'st how to die! Thy holy tears, In that dread night when thou didst pray

forlorn,

Fell, where the olive grove its mount uprears, From evening till the morn.

XVI.

Quand des chants, des sanglots, la confuse harmonie
N'éveille déjà plus notre esprit endormi
Aux lèvres du mourant collé dans l'agonie
Comme un dernier ami;

XVII.

Pour éclaircir l'horreur de cet étroit passage,
Pour relever vers Dieu son regard abattu,
Divin consolateur, dont nous baisons l'image,
Réponds! Que lui dis-tu ?

XVIII.

Tu sais, tu sais mourir! et tes larmes divines
Dans cette nuit terrible où tu prias en vain,
De l'olivier sacré baignèrent les racines

Du soir jusqu'au matin.

XIX.

Thine eye has fathom'd death's great mystery: Thy weeping mother, nature wrapt in gloom, And friends on earth like ours were left by thee, Thy body to the tomb.

XX.

By thine own death, grant me the grace divine On this same cross to breathe my latest sigh: When comes my hour, O Lord, remember thine, Thou knowest how to die!

XXI.

I'll seek the place where her expiring kiss Breath'd on thy feet the irrevocable sigh; Her soul will come to lead my soul to bliss With God eternally.

XIX.

De la croix où ton œil sonda ce grand mystère,
Tu vis ta mère en pleurs et la nature en deuil;
Tu laissas comme nous tes amis sur la terre,
Et ton corps au cercueil!

XX.

Au nom de cette mort, que ma faiblesse obtienne
De rendre sur ton sein ce douleureux soupir:
Quand mon heure viendra, souviens toi de la tienne,
O toi qui sais mourir !

XXI.

Je chercherai la place où sa bouche expirante
Exala sur tes pieds l'irrévocable adieu;
Et son âme viendra guider mon âme errante
Au sein du même Dieu.

XXII.

Oh grant, then grant,that near my couch of pain,
As calm as if an angel wept my doom,
Some mourning figure may receive again
This ever-blest heirloom.

XXIII.

Assist her, Thou; console her fleeting days; And, pledge of hope and love till all is done, From him who goes before to him who stays, Pass on and ever on!

XXIV.

Until that day when, through death's realm dismay'd,

A voice from heaven seven times shall sound

divine,

And wake at once all sleeping 'neath the shade Of thine Eternal Sign!

ORIGINAL TRANSLATION.

XXII.

O puisse, puisse alors sur ma funèbre couche,
Triste et calme à la fois, comme un ange éploré,
Une figure en deuil recueillir sur ma bouche
L'héritage sacré !

XXIII.

Soutiens ses derniers pas, charme sa dernière heure;
Et gage consacré d'espérance et d'amour,
De celui qui s'éloigne à celui qui demeure,
Passe ainsi tour à tour!

XXIV.

Jusqu'au jour où des morts perçant la voûte sombre,
Une voix dans le ciel les appellant sept fois,
Ensemble éveillera ceux qui dorment à l'ombre
De l'éternelle croix !

ON TALK.

"If any offend not in words," says St. James, "he is a perfect man." Be heedful, then, never to let slip an indecent word: for although you may do so without any evil intention, yet those who hear you may not so receive it. An indecent word, falling upon a weak heart, spreads like a drop of oil on silk; and sometimes so engages it, that it fills it with a thousand immodest fancies. duce this evil, the tongue which uttered it is not the less guilty: it did its worst, and no thanks to it if the hearer was proof against it. And let no one tell me that he spoke without thinking: for our Lord, who knows the thoughts of all, has said that "Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh." Those who have modesty and chastity in their hearts, always make use of decent, becoming, and proper language. As for filthy and obscene things,the Apostle will not allow them to be even named; assuring us that "Nothing so much corrupts good manners as wicked discourse."

And even should it not pro

If these indecent words are said slily and affectedly, and in double-entendres, they are infinitely more hurtful: as the more sharp a spear is, the further it enters. And those who think it the part of a gentleman and of a man of the

world, to use such language in conversation, neither know the habits of really good society, nor the objects for which language is given: those who converse should be like bees drawing honey from the sweetest and fairest flowers, and not like wasps, battening upon rottenness. If any one should venture to address any improper word to you, shew that you dislike it, either by turning away, or by any other method which your prudence may teach you.

One of the worst dispositions that any one can encourage is that of a scoffer. God hates this vice extremely, and has heretofore strangely punished it. Nothing is so contrary to the love of God, and much more to the devotedness to God, as scorn and contempt of another. Now, derision and scoffing always spring from this scorn: therefore, is it so great a sin that divines are right in thinking it the very worst kind of injury that words can do to another; because other injuries may be accompanied by some esteem of him whom we harm, but scoffing and ridicule is always accompanied with contempt.

As to light, jesting words, that are uttered in good humour and modest gladness of heart, they may fairly be spoken in conversation when the frivolities of human imperfections furnish subjects of bantering and friendly talk. We must only be careful not to pass from this goodhumoured banter to unfriendly scoffing. Scoff