Rex Redux.[120]

Ille redit, redit. Hoc populi bona murmura volvunt; Publicus hoc, audin'? plausus ad astra refert: Hoc omni sedet in vultu commune serenum; Omnibus hinc una est laetitiae facies. Rex noster, lux nostra redit; redeuntis ad ora Arridet totis Anglia laeta genis: Quisque suos oculos oculis accendit ab istis; Atque novum sacro sumit ab ore diem. Forte roges tanto quae digna pericula plausu Evadat Carolus, quae mala quosve metus: Anne pererrati male fida volumina ponti Ausa illum terris pene negare suis: Hospitis an nimii rursus sibi conscia tellus Vix bene speratum reddat Ibera caput. Nil horum; nec enim male fida volumina ponti Aut sacrum tellus vidit Ibera caput. Verus amor tamen haec sibi falsa pericula fingit-- Falsa peric'la solet fingere verus amor; At Carolo qui falsa timet, nec vera timeret-- Vera peric'la solet temnere verus amor; Illi falsa timens, sibi vera pericula temnens, Non solum est fidus, sed quoque fortis amor. Interea nostri satis ille est causa triumphi: Et satis, ah, nostri causa doloris erat. Causa doloris erat Carolus, sospes licet esset; Anglia quod saltem dicere posset, abest. Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi: Dicere quod saltem possumus: Ille redit.

TRANSLATION.

THE RETURN OF THE KING.

'The King returns!' the people cry; And shouts of greeting scale the sky. The news sits in each look serene; In each a common joy is seen. Our King! our light! she laughs once more, Glad Anglia, as he gains her shore. Each at the King's eyes lights his eyes; Sees new day with his face arise. You'll ask, what fears beset his way, What ills, what dangers,--we're so gay: If 'gainst his bark, that sail'd for home, The faithless billows dar'd to foam; Or if, so seldom blest, you plann'd To keep him still, Iberian land. Nor waves have wrong'd his saintly head, Nor green Iberia felt his tread. Yet think such fancies true love will-- True love, that feigns false perils still: Us such fears vex, whose hearts are stout-- True perils still true love will scout: Thus fear false perils, scorn the true, Will trusty love and brave in you. O fitly we kept cloudy brow, Because of him, as laughter now. When we could say, 'Our King's not here,' We griev'd for him, no danger near: Now our hearts can no least joy lack, When we say, laughing, 'He's come back.' A.

AD PRINCIPEM NONDUM NATUM,