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12 His voice, O Father, still upholds Each impious sect in turn, And men from his impassion'd words Pernicious errors learn."

"Rise, daughter, rise," the saint replied, "Take courage from thy fears; The child will not be lost for whom A mother sheds such tears."

For Austin unbaptized it was That weeping mother pray'd, And on Saint Austin's breast at last Her dying head was laid.

 

sun had risen, the air was sweet, And brightly shone the morning dew, And cheerful sounds and busy feet Pass'd the lone meadows through; While rolling like a flowery sea, In waves of gay and spiry bloom, The hay-fields rippled merrily, In beauty and perfume.

I saw the early mowers pass At morn along that pleasant dell, And rank on rank the shining grass Around them quickly fell. I look'd, and far and wide at noon The morning's fallen flowers were spread; And all, as rose the evening moon, Beneath the scythe were dead.

