1. O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands: serve the Lord with gladness, and come before his presence
2. Be ye sure that the Lord he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
3. O go your way into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise : be thankful unto him, and speak good of his name:
4. For the Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting: and his truth endureth from generation to generation.
Omnes Terræ jubilate,
Läti Deum adorate,
Cumque cantu festinate
In conspectum Domini.
Dominum scitote Deum
solum
eum ; Deus est qui nos creavit; Sumus illi, quos curavit,
Pecus atque populi.
Ejus ante portam state,
Ejus curias intrate;
Nomen ejus collaudate;
Redditote gratias.
Namque Deus laude dignus,
Semper clemens et benignus,
Serus vindex peccatorum;
Inque sæcla sæculorum
Durat ejus veritas.
FROM THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
How use doth breed a habit in a man !
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns :
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was !
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain ! -
What halloing, and what stir is this to-day ?
These are my mates that make their wills their law,
Have some unhappy passenger in chase :
They love me well, yet I have much to do
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Ως το ξυνηθές έν βροτοίς τίκτει νόμους ύλην έρημον τήνδε και δρυμών σκιάν εγώγε πόλεων μάλλον ευάνδρων φιλώ. ένταυθ άποπτος όμμάτων ήμαι μόνος, αηδόνος τε πενθίμω μελωδία ξύμφωνος άδω κάποδύρομαι πάθη ώ της έμής οικούσα καρδίας μυχους, μη δαρόν ούτω δωμ’ άοίκητον λίπης, μή πως όληται πρεμνόθεν σαθρον γεγώς, και του πριν όντος πάν αιστωθή τεκμαρ. ώ πότνια, ση με κούφισον παρουσία, οίκτειρ' εραστήν Σιλβία δυσδαίμονα. έα. τίνος βοής ήκουσα και ποδών κτύπον; ακόλαστος όχλος των εμών οπαόνων οδοιπόρον τιν' άθλιον διωκάθει. εν τοι φιλούσί μ', αλλ' εμοί, ου ράδιον τούτων βιαίαν έστ' έρητύειν ύβριν,
FROM MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.
So said, he, o'er his sceptre bowing, rose
From the right hand of Glory where he sat;
And the third sacred morn began to shine,
Dawning through heaven. Forth rush'd with whirl-
wind sound
The chariot of Paternal Deity,
Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn,
Itself instinct with spirit, but convoy'd
By four Cherubic shapes; four faces each
Had wondrous; as with stars, their bodies all
And wings were set with eyes; with eyes the wheels
Of beryl, and careering fires between.
Over their heads a crystal firmament,
Whereon a sapphire thronè, inlaid with pure
Amber, and colours of the showery arch.
He, in celestial panoply all arm’d
Of radiant Urim, work divinely wrought,
Ascended; at his right hand Victory
Sat eagle-wing'd; beside him hung his bow,
And quiver with three-bolted thunder stored ;
And from about him fierce effusion roll'd
Of smoke, and bickering flame, and sparkles dire.
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