While twice feven birth-days fhare my deftin'd load
Of endless night in Pluto's deep abode.
Stranger, forget not thou the parting rite,
Bid earth above me lie for ever light.
ODE on HEALTH, by ARIPHRON the SiCYONIAN, tranflated.
Health, moft honour'd of celeftial powers,
May I with thee enjoy my future hours!
Nor thou refuse thy folace to afford,
True to my bed, and conftant at my
For all the joys from wealth, or heirs that flow,
Whate'er Imperial diadems beftow;
Whate'er fair objects of defire we prove,
Chas'd and entangled in the toils of love;
Whate'er delights the Gods, on mercy's plan,
Dispense to soften the fatigues of man;
Thefe, thefe all spread and flourish in thine eye,
Sweet Health, thou parent of felicity!
The blooming fpring of pleasure crowns the plain,
And man, without thee, feeks for bliss in vain.
MAXIMS IN LOVE. By LORD L*
ONE without hope, e'er lov'd the brightest fair,
But love can hope when reason would despair.
The tender pair, whom mutual favours bind,
Love keeps united, tho' by Alps disjoin'd:
To paffion ill-return'd fhort bounds are fet-
The lover that's forgotten will forget.
Ye nymphs, be confident, that lover lies,
Whofe tongue declares his love before his eyes.
A maid, unafk'd, may own a well-plac'd flame!
Not loving first, but loving ill's the shame.
Ye fair, whofe prudence, cautious of deceit,
In praise too warmly given, fufpects a cheat,
Without disguise a lover's flattery hear,
Love, when it flatters moft, is moft fincere.
Sweet are those pains which lovers long endures
He is half cur'd who wishes for a cure,
What is ftranger ftill than all,
Be the Tea-fpoon large or small,
Be it batter'd, broken, rough,
Still a Tea-fpoon's just enough.
Order Drops, ye Medic Dunces,
Order Scruples, Drams, and Ounces,
Hill afferts, and ftands it bluff,
That a Tea-fpoon's just enough.
Happy Tea-fpoon, thus to hit
Dr. Hill's unequall'd wit!
A Quibbling EPITAPH, on W. LOWNDES, Efq; Secretary to the Trea fury in the Reign of Queen Anne.
Oways or means, against the tyrant Death
Could raife fupplies to aid thy fund of breath.
O Lowndes! it is enacted, foon or late,
Each branch of nature muft fubmit to fate::
Each member of that house where thou didst ftand,
Intent on credit, with thy bill in hand,
Shall equally this impofition bear,
And in his turn be found deficient here:
But truft in heav'n, where furpluses of joy,
And endless produce, will all cares destroy :
And may't thou there, when thy accounts are past,
Gain a quietus which shall ever last!
Tranflation of an Ancient ROMAN INSCRIPTION.
HOU, to whofe eye these domes of death fucceed,
Here ftay thy fteps, and my infcription read:
Grav'd on the ftone a parent's love complains,
Beneath it lie a daughter's cold remains.
Renown'd for graceful arts in early prime,
I tower'd to glory on the wings of time,
When ah! my fad, my fatal hour drew near,
Denied me life, and ftopp'd my bold career.
Who, form'd and polish'd by the Mufe's hand,
Late in the chorus charm'd the listening band;
Who first at Rome in Grecian scenes could please,
Lo! Fate her ashes to this tomb decrees.
My patron's care, delight, love, praise and pride,
(The body burnt) in filence now fubfide:
To my fond parent fighs and tears I leave,
And youngest, first the stroke of death receive.
While twice feven birth-days fhare my deftin'd load
Of endless night in Pluto's deep abode.
Stranger, forget not thou the parting rite,
Bid earth above me lie for ever light.
ODE on HEALTH, by ARIPHRON the SiCYONIAN, tranflated.
Health, moft honour'd of celestial powers,
May I with thee enjoy my future hours!
Nor thou refuse thy folace to afford,
True to my bed, and conftant at my board.
For all the joys from wealth, or heirs that flow,
Whate'er Imperial diadems bestow;
Whate'er fair objects of defire we prove,
Chas'd and entangled in the toils of love;
Whate'er delights the Gods, on mercy's plan,
Difpenfe to foften the fatigues of man;
Thefe, thefe all spread and flourish in thine eye,
Sweet Health, thou parent of felicity!
The blooming fpring of pleasure crowns the plain,
And man, without thee, feeks for blifs in vain.
MAXIMS IN LOVE. By LORD L
ONE without hope, e'er lov'd the brighteft fair,
But love can hope when reason would despair.
The tender pair, whom mutual favours bind,
Love keeps united, tho' by Alps disjoin'd:
To paffion ill-return'd fhort bounds are set-
The lover that's forgotten will forget.
Ye nymphs, be confident, that lover lies,
Whofe tongue
declares his love before his eyes.
IV.
A maid, unask'd, may own a well-plac'd flame !
Not loving first, but loving ill's the shame.
Ye fair, whofe prudence, cautious of deceit,
In praise too warmly given, fufpects a cheat,
Without disguise a lover's flattery hear,
Love, when it flatters moft, is most fincere.
VI.
Sweet are those pains which lovers long endure;
He is half cur'd who wishes for a cure,
A SONG. Written by Mr. POPE, and never before published
AYS Phoebe, why is gentle love
SA ftranger to that mind,
Which pity and efteem can move,
Which can be just and kind?
Is it because you fear to prove
The ills that love moleft;
The jealous cares, the fighs that move
The captivated breast?
Alas! by fome degree of woe,
We every blifs must gain:
That heart can ne'er a transport know,
That never felt a pain.
SOLITUD E. From the fame.
HAT are the falling rills, the pendant fhades,
The morning bow'rs, the evening colonnades,
But foft receffes for th' uneafy mind,
To figh unheard in, to the paffing wind!
Lo! the ftruck deer, in fome fequefter'd part,
Lies down to die (the arrow in his heart ;)
There hid in fhades, and wafting day by day,
Inly he bleeds, and pants his foul away.
TRANSLATION of REGINER'S EPITAPH,
AYLY I liv'd, as eafe and nature taught,
And spent my little life without a thought;
And am amaz'd that death, that tyrant grim,
Should think of me, who never thought of him.
To mope, to groan, to figh, to fret;
Thefe are thy gifts, O fpleen!
Darknefs and fogs furround thy throne,
Dulnefs, dread pow'r, is all thy own,
Thou cloud compelling queen!
Haplefs, who drags thy fervile chains,
Who ftill fubmits, yet ftill complains
Of thy caprice and whim :
The friendly chat, the focial bowl,
"The feaft of fenfe and flow of foul,"
Command no charms for him,
Seen thro' this intellectual gloom,
The various ills of life affume
A larger, ampler, fize;
Ev'n hope withdraws the chearing ray
That beautifies our wint❜ry day,
And the fair landscape dies.
Then, Memory, thy fhadowy train
Rebellious to thy lawful reign,
Revolt to fpleen, and chance:
Hence motley images combine,
Strange fhapes in quaint diforder join,
And form th' ideal dance.
The pleafing forms of gay delight
On outstretch'd pinions speed their flight,
From thy infectious breath;
See, in their stead, heart-vexing care,
And fear, and doubt, and wan defpair,
And the black fhade of death!
Satan himself fome men adore,
Not that they love, but fear his pow'r ;
So to thy fhrine I bend;
And O thy wayward fpells remove
Far, far from me, and those I love,
Thou peace-corroding friend!
The ODE upon dedicating a Building and erecting a Statue to SHAKESPEARE, at Stratford-upon-Avon. By DAVID GARRICK, Efq;
|