334 Andrew's tide. 



NOV. 29. Sx.SATURNiNUSjbishop and m.A.D. 257. 

 St. Saturninus, martyr. 

 St. Radbold, bishop and confessor, 918. 



Obs. St. Siitiiinitius w.is liishop of Toulouse in P'rance, who was martyred 

 >)y bcini,' tied to a wild l)uli, and the he.ist made to run down a liill, by whicli 

 means iie was Ixilled, in 2.V. 



Sphenogone Sphenogone peWflora fl. 



It has tieen often enquired why Vanes were so frequently made in the form 

 of Cocks ; we believe this form "to be originally a religious emblem, and tlie 

 tail of the Cock being conveniently shaped to catch the wind was used as the 

 fan of the Vane. 



In Brand, liv Ellis, vol. i. we find, Vanrs on the tops of steeples were an- 

 tiently made in the form of a Cock, called from hence Weather Cocks, and put 

 up in'papal times to remind the clergy of watchfulness. 



In summitiite ciucis quae companario vnlgo impouitur, galli lallinacei 

 effiigi solet licura, quae ecclesiarum rectores vigilantiae admoneat. — Du 

 Cnnge, Glossiirii. 



The sujject is alluded to in the following lines : 



Hark I now I hear those evening bells, 

 Wliat doleful tales their music tells, 

 Of comfort past, of hours misspent. 

 Of youth to sensual vices lent ; 

 Of childish joys in days of yore. 

 Of merry plav'iuates now no more ; 

 Of all that IVi's-litt'id chan»e of things 

 Whicli each siu-ccnlin}; scasoo brings. 

 Softly ring on, nu lodinus peal. 

 Your soft persuasive strains I feel. 

 Winch give refreshment to the soul. 

 By carolling- to its proper goal. 

 For tliough each soul entrancing knell 

 Seems some fair image lost to tell. 

 Of love entombed, of friendship dead. 

 Of infant liopes for ever fled ; 

 And calls to mind the early time 

 When first I heard your melting chime. 

 At life's and daylight's infant dawn. 

 When Cocks first blew the trump of morn. 

 And fii'st I sallied forth to play, 



Fi'ee, on a festive holiday. 

 Since which old tinus the silverv head 

 Of fond paternal counsel 's dead ; 

 The girl, that was the evening star 



Of voutliful passion dwells afar ; 

 The' trusty Dog, my father's pride. 

 Is swallowed in Tiine's gulphing tide ; 



And fierce F.rynnis tramples down 



Those childish hopes we now disown. 



Yet still, oh ! soft melodious bells, 



A tale of jov voiir music tells 



To faithful (locks, assembled here 



To drink of lioly water clear. 



For in the duskv cloister damp. 



Where Vigilance hath lit her lamp. 



The white winged angel Hope apjiears. 



And my desponding genius cheers. 



And savs, " Hark ! yet the tuneful bells 



Are sounding still their magic spells. 



That quell all harms, and call the sheep 



The vigils of pure Faith to keep ; 



Ami cheer the soul to hold in view 



For faithful flocks green pastures new; 



'Tis those fair realms, fair Virtue's seat. 



Where kindred souls again will meet; 



The taper steeple points the way. 



The Cock upon the vane doth say. 



Then follow me', not turning round 



To every blast that sweeps the ground ; 



But, by a watchfulness on high, 



Bend to the spirit of the sky." 



Then jingle on, ye mellow bells, 



Of many liopes your music tells. « 



