Beneath that shadow they delight to crowd; To turn to shades by that shade not allow'd. From Peter's shadow what may we not hope, Now all thy glory it sustains, O Pope! G. XX. _Tetigit linguam ejus, &c. ... et loquebatur ... et praecepit illis ne cui dicerent: illi vero eo magis praedicabant._ Marc. vii. 33, 36. Christe, jubes muta ora loqui; muta ora loquuntur: Sana tacere jubes ora; nec illa tacent. Si digito tunc usus eras, muta ora resolvens; Nonne opus est tota nunc tibi, Christe, manu? _The dumbe healed, and the people enjoyned silence._ Christ bids the dumbe tongue speake; it speakes: the sound Hee charges to be quiet; it runs round. If in the first He us'd His finger's touch, His hand's whole strength here could not be too much. CR. ANOTHER VERSION. Christ, the mute lips Thou bidst to speak; and lo, Straightway words flow: Thou mute wouldst have the speaking lips; but they Thee disobey. If, then, a single finger Thou didst use Mute tongues to loose, Thy whole hand now we need; for old and young Have ceaseless tongue. G. XXI. _Sacerdos quidam descendens eadem via vidit, et praeteriit._ Luc. x. 32. Spectasne, ah, placidisque oculis mea vulnera tractas? O dolor! ô nostris vulnera vulneribus! Pax oris quam torva tui est! quam triste serenum! Tranquillus miserum qui videt, ipse facit. _And a certaine priest comming that way looked on him, and passed by._ Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by, Handling and turning them with an unwounded eye? The calm that cools thine eye does shipwrack mine; for O, Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so. CR. ANOTHER RENDERING. Dost look upon my wounds, serene-faced Priest? Thy placid eyes give wounds more deep and sore. O, thy calm stare avert! pass on, at least: They who see woe unmov'd cause it, and more. G. ANOTHER VERSION. Canst look, and by with look so tranquil pass, Nor heed my wounds? O, wounds on wounds, alas! O peace, too grim! on it set little store: Who looks unmov'd on misery makes it more. A. XXII. _Leprosi ingrati._ Luc. xvii. Dum linquunt Christum, ah morbus! sanantur euntes: Ipse etiam morbus sic medicina fuit. At sani Christum, mens ah male-sana! relinquunt: Ipsa etiam morbus sic medicina fuit. _The ungrateful lepers._ Whilst leaving Christ--ah, fell disease!-- They're healèd as they go: Their malady their medicine is, Because He will'd it so. But healèd now--ah, mind diseas'd!-- They from the Lord depart: Their healing their disease is now, Bred in an ingrate heart. G. XXIII. _Ne soliciti estote tu crastinum._ Matt. vi. 34.