_Ne laedite terrain, neque mare, neque arbores, quousque obsignaverimus
servos Dei nostri in frontibus suis._ Rev. vii. 3.
Nusquam immitis agat ventus sua murmura, nusquam
Sylva tremat, crispis sollicitata comis.
Aequa Thetis placide allabens ferat oscula Terrae;
Terra suos Thetidi pandat amica sinus:
Undique pax effusa piis volet aurea pennis,
Frons bona dum signo est quaeque notata suo.
Ah, quid in hoc opus est signis aliunde petendis?
Frons bona sat lacrymis quaeque notata suis.
_On All-Saints' Day._
Let wind with murmurs harsh nowhere be heard;
Nowhere wood tremble, its curl'd tresses stirr'd.
Calm-flowing Sea greet Earth with kisses bland,
Earth unto Sea its bosom kind expand.
Let holy Peace on golden pinions steal,
Till each blest brow is mark'd with its own seal.
Ah, why elsewhere for this, need signs be sought?
To each blest brow tears seal enough have brought. R. WI.