[The following translation exists in the handwriting of Mr. Fermor, of Tusmore, the last of the name, who devised his estates in trust for his

daughter, Maria, wife of Captain John Turner Ramsay. Mr. Fermor prefaces the verses with this statement: "The following translation was made at

the desire of the Rev. Mr. Brown, chaplain to Mr. Caryl, of Lady-holt, a Roman Catholic gentleman, on Mr. Pope, our celebrated poet, making a visit there, who, being requested by Mr. Brown to translate the following hymn or rythmus, composed by St. Francis Xavier, Apostle of the Indies, on the morn. ing after produced what follows." -A copy of the Hymn was sent to the Gentleman's Magazine, by a correspondent from Baltimore, and appears in the number for October, 1791. The correspondent of the magazine says he received it, nearly forty years before, from Mr. Brown, who died some time after, aged about ninety. "This venerable man had lived in England, as domestic chaplain in the family of the Mr. Caryl to whom Mr. Pope inscribes the Rape of the Lock, in the beginning of that poem; and at whose house he spent much of his time in the early and gay part of his life. I was informed by Mr. Brown, that, seeing the poet often amuse the family with verses of gallantry, he took the liberty one day of requesting him to change the subject of his compositions, and to devote his talents to the translating of the Latin hymn."]

THOU HOU art my God, sole object of my love;
Not for the hope of endless joys above;
Not for the fear of endless pains below,
Which they who love thee not must undergo.
For me, and such as me, thou deign'st to bear
An ignominious cross, the nails, the spear:
A thorny crown transpierced thy sacred brow,
While bloody sweats from every member flow.
For me in tortures thou resign'st thy breath,
Embraced me on the cross, and saved me by thy death.
And can these sufferings fail my heart to move?
What but thyself can now deserve my love?
Such as then was, and is, thy love to me,
Such is, and shall be still, my love to thee-
To thee, Redeemer! mercy's sacred spring!
My God, my Father, Maker, and my King!1

1 Oratio à Sancto Xaverio composita.
O Deus! ego amo te:
Nec amo te ut salves me,
Aut quià non amantes te
Æterno punis igne.

Tu, tu, mî Jesu! totum me

Amplexus es in cruce.
Tulisti clavos, lanceam,
Multamque ignominiam;
Innumeros dolores,
Sudores, et angores,

TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF OXFORD,

UPON A PIECE OF NEWS IN MIST, THAT THE REV. MR. W. REFUSED TO WRITE
AGAINST MR. POPE BECAUSE HIS BEST PATRON HAD A
FRIENDSHIP FOR THE SAID MR. P.1

WESLEY, if Wesley 'tis they mean,

They say on Pope would fall,

Would his best patron let his pen
Discharge his inward gall.
What patron this, a doubt must be,
Which none but you can clear,
Or Father Francis cross the sea,
Or else Earl Edward here.

That both were good must be confess'd;
And much to both he owes;
But which to him will be the best
The Lord of Oxford knows.

Ac mortem; et hæc propter me-
Ac pro me peccatore.

Cur igitur non amem te,

O Jesu amantissime!

Non ut in cœlo salves me,
Aut nè æternum damnes me;

Nec præmii ullâ spe :

Sed sicut tu amâsti me,

Sic amo, et amabo te;

Solùm quíà Rex meus es,
Et solùm quià Deus es. Amen.

1 From Nichols's Literary Anecdotes. The "W." alluded to was the Rev. Samuel Wesley, and "Father Francis," the Bishop of Rochester, then in

TRANSLATION OF A PRAYER OF BRUTUS.

[The Rev. Aaron Thompson, of Queen's College, Oxon., translated the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth. He submitted the translation to Pope, 1717, who gave him the following lines, being a translation of a prayer of Brutus] :

GODDESS of woods, tremendous in the chase,

To mountain wolves and all the savage race,
Wide o'er the aërial vault extend thy sway,
And o'er the infernal regions void of day.
On thy third reign look down; disclose our fate,
In what new station shall we fix our seat?
When shall we next thy hallow'd altars raise,
And choirs of virgins celebrate thy praise?

LINES IN EVELYN'S BOOK OF COINS.

TOM Wood of Chiswick, deep divine,

To painter Kent gave all this coin.

'Tis the first coin, I'm bold to say,
That ever churchman gave to lay.

["Wrote in Evelyn's book of coins given by Mr. Wood to Kent: he (Mr. Wood) had objected against the word trio, in Mr. Pope's father's epitaph." The lines, with this explanation, were communicated to Notes and Queries, March 13, 1851, by the Rev. R. Hotchkin, Thimbleby Rectory, from a copy by Mason the poet.]

LINES ON SWIFT'S ANCESTORS.

["Swift put up a plain monument to his grandfather, and also presented a cup to the church of Goodrich, or Gotheridge (Herefordshire). He sent a pencilled elevation of the monument (a simple tablet) to Mrs. Howard, who returned it with the following lines inscribed on the drawing by Pope. The paper is indorsed, in Swift's hand, "Model of a Monument for my grandfather, with Mr. Pope's roguery.' "-Scott's Life of Swift]:

JONATHAN Swift
Had the gift,

By fatherige, motherige,
And by brotherige,

To come from Gotherige,
But now is spoil'd clean
And an Irish dean:

In this church he has put
A stone of two foot,
With a cup and a can, sir,
In respect to his grandsire;
So Ireland change thy tone,
And cry, O hone! O hone!
For England hath its own.

LINES TO LORD BATHURST.

[The following lines were first published by Mr. Mitford, in one of the notes to Gray's Correspondence, 1843. An extract from the poet's printed Correspondence, part of a letter addressed to Lord Bathurst, will illustrate the verses :-" I believe you are by this time immersed in your vast wood; and one may address to you as to a very abstracted person, like Alexander Selkirk, or the self-taught philosopher. I should be very curious to know what sort of contemplations employ you. I remember the latter of those I mentioned gave himself up to a devout exercise of making his head giddy with various circumrotations, to imitate the motions of the celestial bodies. I do not think it at all impossible that Mr. L. may be far advanced in that exercise, by frequent turns towards the several aspects of the heavens, to which you may have been pleased to direct him in search of prospects and new avenues. He will be tractable in time, as birds are tamed by being whirled about: and doubtless come not to despise the meanest shrubs or coppice wood, though naturally he seems more inclined to admire God in his greater works, the tall timber." The "Mr. L." of this letter is evidently the "Lewis" of the verses] :

"A

WOOD!" quoth Lewis, and with that
He laugh'd, and shook his sides of fat.
His tongue, with eye that mark'd his cunning,
Thus fell a-reasoning, not a-running:
"Woods are not to be too prolix-
Collective bodies of straight sticks.
It is, my lord, a mere conundrum
To call things woods for what grows under 'em.
For shrubs, when nothing else at top is,

Can only constitute a coppice.