Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon c½ur D'une langueur Monotone. Slow sobs Of the violins Of autumn Wound my heart With a monotonous languor.
Tum medicinali tantum florebat in arte, posset ut hic nullus Languor hobere locumarchbishop of salerno alfano i
There is no remedy for time misspent; No healing for the waste of idleness, Whose very Languor is a punishment Heavier than active souls can feel or guess.
Perhaps yours is a very remorseful past a foolish, frivolous, disgraceful, frittered past. Well, Christ says, " My servant, be sad," but no Languor; there is work to be done forme yet rise up, be going! Oh, my brethren, Christ takes your wretched remnants of life the feeble pulses of a heart which has spent its best hours not for Him, but for self and for enjoyment, and in His strange love He condescends to accept them.
After the fever of life after wearinesses, sicknesses, fightings and despondings, Languor and fretfulness, struggling and failing, struggling and succeeding after all the changes and chances of this troubled and unhealthy state, at length comes death at length the white throne of God at length the beatific vision.
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