THE

JOVIAL PRIEST'S CONFESSION.

THERE is already an imitation by Mr. Huddesford of the following reverend piece of wit ; and one of the passages in it beats any thing in the present version. It is the beginning of the last stanza,

Mysterious and prophetic truths

I never could unfold 'em,
Without a flagon of good wine,

And a slice of cold ham.

The translation here offered to the reader is intended to be a more literal picture of the original, and to retain more of its intermixture of a grave and churchman-like style. The original itself is subjoined, as a thing too good not to be repeated, and not common enough to be easily found. It is preserved in the Remains of the learned Camden, who says, in his pleasant way, that "Walter de Mapes, Archdeacon of Oxford, who, in the time of King Henry the Second, filled England with his merriments, confessed his love to good liquor in this manner;"

I DEVISE to end my days-in a tavern drinking,

May some Christian hold for me--the glass when I am shrinking;

Mihi est propositum in tabernâ mori,

Vinum sit appositum morientis ori:

That the Cherubim may cry when they see me sinking, God be merciful to a soul-of this gentleman's way of thinking.

A glass of wine amazingly-enlighteneth one's inter

nals;

'Tis wings bedewed with nectar-that fly up to su

pernals;

Bottles cracked in taverns-have much the sweeter

kernels,

Than the sups allowed to us-in the college journals.

Ut dicant, cum venerint, Angelorum chori,

Deus sit propitius huic potatori.

Poculis accenditur animi lucerna ;

Cor imbutum nectare volat ad superna;

Mihi sapit dulcius vinum in taberna,

Quam quod aqua miscuit præsulis pincerna.

R

Every one by nature hath--a mould which he was cast in ; I happen to be one of those-who never could write

fasting;

By a single little boy--I should be surpass'd in

Writing so

I'd just as lief--be buried, tomb'd and grass'd in.

Every one by nature hath-a gift too, a dotation:

I, when I make verses,-do get the inspiration
Of the very best of wine-that comes into the nation :

It maketh sermons to abound-for edification.

Suum cuique proprium dat natura munus,
Ego nunquam potui scribere jejunus :
Me jejunum vincere posset puer unus :
Sitim et jejunium odi tanquam funus.

Uni cuique proprium dat natura donum,
Ego versus faciens, vinum bibo bonum,
Et quod habent melius dolia cauponum ;
Tale vinum generat copiam sermonum.

Just as liquor floweth good-floweth forth my lay so; But I must moreover eat-or I could not say so; Nought it availeth inwardly-should I write all day so; But with God's grace after meat-I beat Ovidius Naso.

Neither is there given to me--prophetic animation, Unless when I have eat and drank-yea, ev'n to satu

ration;

Then in my upper story-hath Bacchus domination,

And Phoebus rusheth into me, and beggareth all

Nihil

possum scribere, nisi sumpto cibo; Nihil valet penitus, quod jejunus scribo Nasonem post calices carmine præibo.

Mihi nunquam spiritus prophetiæ datur,
Nisi tunc cum fuerit venter bene satur;
Cum in arce cerebri Bacchus dominatur,
In me Phœbus irruit, ac miranda fatur.

SONG OF FAIRIES ROBBING AN ORCHARD.

FROM SOME LATIN VERSES IN THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMA OF "AMYNTAS,

OR THE IMPOSSIBLE DOWRY."

WE the Fairies, blithe and antic,

Of dimensions not gigantic,

Though the moonshine mostly keep us,

Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.

Nos beata Fauni proles,

Quibus non est magna moles,

Quamvis Lunam incolamus,

Hortos sæpe frequentamus.