_Arbor Christi jussu arescens._ Marc. xi. 13.
Ille jubet: procul ite mei, mea gloria, rami:
Nulla vocet nostras amplius aura comas.
Ite, nec o pigeat; nam vos neque fulminis ira,
Nec trucis ala Noti verberat: ille jubet.
O vox, o Zephyro vel sic quoque dulcior omni;
Non possum Autumno nobiliore frui.
_The tree dried up by the word of Christ._
He speaks: hence, leaves; my glory hence, away;
Thou Zephyr 'mid my leaves no longer play;
Begone: nor grieve: 'tis not the lightning's wrath,
Nor wing of the storm-wind that smites: HE saith.
O voice, than Zephyr sweeter far to me;
More noble autumn-fruit could never be. G.