O come; whatever fears Thy standards carry, Or sorrows summon us, Lord, do not tarry. Come, Lord; though labouring heaven whirl from its place, And its perplexèd paths no more can trace; Though sympathising earth astonied reel, And nature jarrèd cease its round to wheel. Come, Lord; though sun refuse with rosy beam To rise, and sickly drives a doubtful team. Come, Lord; though moon look more aghast at night Than when her cheeks with panic fear are white; Though ominous comets through the dolorous air Hurtle, and round their brow dread fire-wreaths wear; Though spite of struggling sun Night's sudden sway Impious and lawless seize the accustom'd day; Mistimèd Day, mindless of eastern glow, Through moanings of forsaken Night should go. Come, Lord; though father Ocean roars and lowers, That his mov'd mountain-bars own other powers. Come, Lord; whate'er Fear dares, e'en let it dare; Let Fates do what they will, be Thou but there. Come, Lord; with whate'er recompense of ill, Whate'er Thy coming cost, O come, Lord, still. Thee and Thine eyes, O what 'twill be to see! Thee to enjoy e'en so, what will that be! Let come what will, do Thou, Lord, only come. R. WI. CIRCUMCISIO. Ah ferus, ah culter, qui tam bona lilia primus In tam crudeles jussit abire rosas; Virgineum hoc qui primus ebur violavit ab ostro, Inque sui instituit muricis ingenium. Scilicet hinc olim quicunque cucurrerit amnis, Ex hoc purpurei germine fontis erit. Scilicet hunc mortis primum puer accipit unguem, Injiciunt hodie fata, furorque manus. Ecce illi sanguis fundi jam coepit; et ecce Qui fundi possit, vix bene sanguis erat; Excitat e dolio vix dum bene musta recenti, Atque rudes furias in nova membra vocat. Improbus, ut nimias jam nunc accingitur iras, Armaque non molli sollicitanda manu; Improbus, ut teneras audet jam ludere mortes, Et vitae ad modulum, quid puerile mori; Improbus, ut tragici impatiens praeludia fati Ornat, et in socco jam negat ire suo: Scilicet his pedibus manus haec meditata cothurnos? Haec cum blanditiis mens meditata minas? Haec tam dura brevem decuere crepundia dextram? Dextra giganteis haec satis apta genis? Sic cunis miscere cruces? cumque ubere matris Commisisse neces et scelus et furias? Quo ridet patri, hoc tacite quoque respicit hastam, Quoque oculo matrem mulcet, in arma redit. Dii superi, furit his oculis! hoc asper in ore est! Dat Marti vultus, quos sibi mallet Amor. Deliciae irarum! torvi, tenera agmina, risus! Blande furor! terror dulcis! amande metus! Praecocis in paenas pueri lascivia tristis! Cruda rudimenta! et torva tyrocinia! Jam parcum breviusque brevi pro corpore vulnus, Proque brevi brevior vulnere sanguis eat: Olim, cum nervi vitaeque ferocior haustus