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The loves thou never can'st enjoy, resign;
In fires of Hell Typhens glows, Nor rashly lose another life with thine.
Imprison'd by the wrath of Jore; Then will we, eager as our joys, remove
No ease his restless fury knows,
Nor sounds of joy, nor pleasing love.
With mountains of eternal snow ;
STROPHE II. Pleasure farewell, and thou, my dear, adieu !
Angry flames like scarlet glowing.
Fiery to rents ever flowing, PART OF PINDAR'S FIRST PYTHIAN Smoke along the with’ring plain ODE PARAPHRASED.
Ere they rush into the main.
When the sable veil of night
Stretches o'er the shaded sky,
Fires of sulphur gleam with light, This ode is address'd to Hieron king of Sicily, as
Burning rucks disparted fly. is also the first of the Olympics. Pindar takes Sudden, by turns the flashing fames arise, occasion to begin with an encomium on music, Pour down the winds, or tremble up the skies. finely describing its effects upon the passions.
ANTISTROPHE II. We must suppose this art to be one of his hero's
In fair Sicilia's rich domain, more distinguishable excellencies ; as it ap
Where flow'rs and fruits eternal blow, pears from several passages in the ode above.
Where Plenty spreads her peaceful reign, From thepce be expatiates in the praise of
And seas surround, and fountains low, poetry; and inveighs very severely upon those
Bright Religion lifts her eye, who either contemn, or have no taste for that divine science. Their misfortunes and punish
Wand'ring through the kindred-sky.
Hail thou, everlasting Jove, ments are instanc'd by those of Typhæus :
Parent of th’Aonian quire ; whom the poets imagine to be imprisoned by Jupiter under mount Ætna. The digres
Touch my raptur'd soul with love,
Warm me with celestial fire !
Led by new hopes, and borne by gentle galės.
So ere the Muse, disus'd to sing,
Emblazons her fair hero's praise :
(What time she wakes the trenibling string, Wake the string to voice again.
Attemperd to the vocal lays)
Prostrate in humble guise she bends,
While some celestial pow'r descends
To guide her airy flights along :
God the silver bow, give ear;
(Whom Tenedus, and Chrysa fear)
Vosen vant of the song ! Entranc'd in pleasure Jove's dread eagle lies,
Gentle wishes, chaste desires,
Holy Hymen's purer fires :
Lives of innocence and pleasure,
Moral virtue's mystic treasure;
Wisdom, eloquence, and love,
All are blessings from above.
Hence regret, distaste, dispraise,
Guilty nights, uneasy days :
Repining jealousies, calm friendly wrongs,
And fiercer envy, and the strife of tongues.
When Virtue bleeds beneath the laws,
Or ardent nations rise in arms,
Thy courage ev'ry breast alarms,
Kindling with heroic fire
Once again I sweep the lyre.
Fair as summer's evening skies,
Beneath his feet eternal snows were spread,
And airy rocks hang nodding o'er his head,
The savage beasts in circles round him play,
And rapid streams stand list’ning to the lay.
So when the shepherd swaiu with curious eyes Marks the fair nest, and makes the young bis
Sad Philomel, in poplar shades alone, (prize: THE EPISODE OF ORPHEUS AND In vain renews her lamentable moan. EURYDICE,
From night to morn she chants her tender lore, TRANSLATED FROM THE FOURTH GEORGIC OF
And mournful music dies along the grove.
No thoughts of pleasure now his soul employ,
Averse to Venus and the nuptial joy :
Wild as the winds o'er Thracia's plains he roves,
O'er the bleak mountains, and the leafless groves. Her sadden death the mountain-Dryads mourn'd When stung with rage the Bacchanalian train And Rbodope's high brow the dirge return'd: Rush'd to the bard, and stretch'd him on the Bleak Orythya trembled at their woe,
plain; And silver Hebrus inurmur'd in his flow.
(Nor sounds, nor pray’rs their giddy fury move, While to his mournful barp, unseen, alone, And he must cease to live, or learn to love) Despairing Orpheus warbled out his moan. See, from his shoulders in a moment flies With rosy dawn his plaintive lays begun,
His bleeding head, and now, ah now he dies! His plaintive voice sung down the setting Sun. Yet as he dy'd, Eurydice he mourn’d, Now in the frantic bitterness of woe
Eurydice, the treinbling banks return'd; Silent he treads the dreary realms below,
Eurydice, with hollow voice be cry'd, His loss in tender numbers to deplore,
Eurydice, ran murm’ring down the tidea And touch'd the souls who ne'er were touch'd
before. Mov'd with the pleasing harmony of song, The shadowy spectres round the poet throng:
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY Num'rous as birds that o'er the forest play,
HERTFORD, (When evening Phæbus rolls the light away:
UPON THE BIRTH OF LORD BEAUCHAMP. Or when high Jove in wintry seasons pours A sudden deluge from descending show'rs.) Once more inspir'd, I touch the trembling The mother's ghost, the father's rev'rend shade,
string; The blooming hero, and th' uumarry'd maid:
What Muse for Hertford will refuse to sing ? The new-born heir who soon lamented dies, Thine are the fav’rite strains, and may they be And feeds the flames before his parent's eyes;
Sacred to praise, to beauty, and to thee! All whom Cocytus' sable water bounds,
Sudden, methinks, in vision I survey And Styx with thrice three wand'ring streams The glorious triumphs of th' expected day: surrounds.
Fair lovely sights in opening scenes appear,
And ev'ry bosom beats with sounds of joy.
Rise from thy slumbers, gentle infant, rise! Th' unfolding snakes around the furies play, Lift thy fair head, unfold thy radiant eyes, As the pale sisters listen to the lay.
Whose lovely light must other counts adorn, Nor was the poet's moving suit deny’d, And wound the hearts of beauties yet unborn, Agaiu to realms abore he bears his bride,
Subdue the sex, that triumphs in its pride, When (stern decree !) he turns his longing eyes... And humble thuse, who charm the world beside, 'Tis done, she's lost, for ever ever fliese
Descend, ye geutle Nine! descend, and spread Too small the fault, too lasting was the pain,
Laurels and bays around his infant-head.
In soften'd music bid bis accents flow,
The daring patriot, and unshaken friend;
Admir'd, yet humble, modest, though severe, Again the melancholy plains I see, (thee!” Abroad obliging, and at home sincere; Ravish'd from life, from pleasure, and from Good, just, and affable in each degree: She said, and sinking into endless night, Such is the father, such the son shall be! Like exhalations vanish'd from the sight.
These humble strains, indulgent Hertford, In vain he sprung to seize her, wept, or pray'd,
spare ; Swift glides away the visionary shade.
Forgive the Muse, O fairest of the fair! How wilt thou now, unhappy Orpheus, tell First in thy shades (where silver Kennet glides, Thy second loss, and melt the pow'rs of Hell? Fair Marlbro's turrets trembling in his tides: Cold are those lips that blest thy soul before, Where Peace and Plenty hold their gentle reign, And her fair eyes must roll on thine no more. And lavish Nature decks the fruitful plain: Sev'n tedious moons despairing, wild he stood, Where the fam'd mountain lifts its walks on high And told his woes to Strymon's freezing food. As varying prospects open on the eye)
To love's soft theme I tun'd the warbling lyre, The dapper elfins theyr queint festes bedight
Wyth mickle plesaunce on a mushroom lite:
In acorne cuppes they quaffen daint liquere, 30th, 1725.
And rowle belgardes, and delfie daunce yfere;
And sowns aeriall adowne the grene woode flote.
OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRFISG OF A GRASSHOPPER
Happy insect! ever blest
With a more than mortal rest, Around the pomp in mourning weeds array'd,
Rosy dews the leaves among, Weeps the pale father, and the trembling maid:
Humble joys, and gentle song! The screaming infants at the portals stand,
Wretched poet! ever curst, And clasp, and stop the slow-proceeding band.
With a life of lives the worst, Each parting face a settled horrour wears,
Sad despondence, restless fears,
Endless jealousies and tears.
In the burning summer, thou
Meditating chearful play,
Mindless of the piercing ray;
Ever weep and ever die. Now touch'd with sorrows, hide their tearful
Proud to gratify thy will, eyes,
Ready Nature waits thee still: And all the hero melts away and dies.
Balmy wines to thee she pours, So the pale sailor lanching from the shore,
Weeping through the dewy flow'rs: Leaves the dear prospects that must charm no
Rich as those by Hebe giv'n
To the thirsty sons of Heav'n. Here shrieks of anguish pierce his pitying ears
Yet alas, we both agree, There strangely wild, a floating world appears Miserable thou like me! Swift the fair vessel wings her watry flight,
Each alike in youth rehearses
Gentle strains, and tender verses;
Ever wand'ring far from home;
(Such as aged Winter brings Breathe the last sigh, and wave tbe circling hand.
l'rembling on his icy wings) You now, fair ancient Truth! conduct along
Both alike at last we die;
Thou art staru'd, and so am I !
THE STORY OF ARETH USA,
TRANSLATED FROM THE 5TH BOOK OF OVID'S
Connection to the former.
The poet describes Ceres wandering over the
world in great aflliction, to search after her
daughter Proserpina, who was then lost. At UPON A SET OF TEA-DRINKERS.
last Arethusa (a river of Sicily) informs the So fairy elves their morning-table spread
goddess that her daughter was stolen away by O’er a white mushroom's hospitable head :
Pluto, and carried down into Hell. Now it In acorn cups the merry goblins quaff,
was ordained by fate, that Prosperine should The pearly dews, they sing, they love, they laugh;
return again, if she tasted not of any fruit in Melodious music trembles through the sky,
the other world. But temptations were strong, And airy sounds along the green-wood die.
and the woman could pot resist eating six of
she should reside but lalf the year with Pluto,
and pass the rest with her mother. Upon these
terms Сeres is very well pacified, and in com, DIVEF SIFYED IN AUNCIENT MBTR E.
plaisance desires Arethusa to relate her lise, So, yf deepe clerkes in tymes of yore saine trew,
and for what reasons she was changed into a Or poets egne, perdie, muught sothly vew,
IMITATED AND ENLARGED,
“ The god soon saw me floating o'er the plain, Husaid in suspence the gath’ring waters stood,
And straight resum'd his warry form againWhen thus began the parent of the food;
Instant, Diana smote the trembling ground; What time emerging from the wave, she prest
Down rush iny waters with a murm'ring sound; Her verdant tresses dropping on her breast. “Of all the nymphs Achaia boasts,” (she said) Thence darkling thro’ th' infernal regions stray,
And in the Delian plains review the day.”
Quum dormiret Amor, rapuit clam pulchra
pharetram Weary I wander'd by a silver flood: fwood,
Cælia, surreptâ flevit Amor pharetra. The gentle waters scarce were seen to glide,
“ Noli (Cypris ait) sic fere Cupido ; pharetram And a calm silence still'd the sleeping tide;
Pulchra tibi rapuit Cælia, restituet, High o'er the banks a grove of watry trees
Non opus est illi calamis, non ignibus : urit Spread its dark shade that trembled to the breeze. (My vest suspended on the boughs) I lave
Vuce, manu, gressu, pectore, fronte, oculis.”
FROM THE SPOR IS OF CUPID, WRITTEN BY ANS "My lovely nymph, my Arethusa stay, Alpheüs calls;" it said, or seem'd to say— "Naked and swift I few, (my clothes behind)
As fast beside a murm'ring stream, Fear strung my nerves, and shame enrag'd my miod :
In blissful visions Cupid lay, So wing'd with hunger the fierce eagle fies,
Chloë, as she softly came, To drive the trembling turtles through the skies:
Snatch'd his go!den shafts away. So wing'd with fear the trembling turtles spring, From place to place in sad surprize When the fierce eagle shoots upon the wing. The little angry godhead Aew:
'Swift-bounding froin the god, I now survey Trembling his ruddy eyes Where breezy Psophis and Cyllene lay.
Hung the pearly drops of dew,
So on the rose (in blooming May,
When purple Phæbus rises bright)
Liquid gems of silver lay, O'er hills and vales with furious haste I flew :
Pierc'd with glitt'ring streams of light, O'er hills and vales the god behind me drew. Fair Venus with a tender languish Now hor'ring o'er, bis length’ning shadow bends, Smiling, thus her son addrest, (His length'ning shadow the low Sun extends) As he murmur'd out bis anguish And sudden now, his sounding steps drew near; Trembling on her soowy breast : At least I seemn'd his sounding steps to hear.
“ Peace, gentle infant, I implore, Now sinking, in short sobs I gasp'd for breath,
Nor lavish precious tears in vain; Just in the jaws of violence and death.
Chloë, when the jest is o'er, Ah,Cynthia help!'('twas thus in thought I pray'd)
Brings the useless shafts again, "Ah, help a ravish'd, miserable maid !! The virgin-pow'r consenting to my pray'r,
“ Can Chloë need the shafts of love, Diffus'd around a veil of clouded air:
Young, blooming, witty, plump, and fair? Lost in the gloom he wanders o'er the plain,
Charms and raptures round her more,
Murm'ring sighs, and deep despair,
Ev'ry motion of her eye
Murders more than Cupid's bow."
TO A YOUNG LADY,
WITH MR. FENTON'S MISCELLANY. Pale swoons, and sickly fears succeed oy turns: Cold creeps my blood, its pulses beat no more: These various strains, where ev'ry talent charms, Big drops of sweat ascend from ev'ry pore; Where humour pleases, or where passion warms: Adown my locks the pearly dews distill, (Strains ! where the tender and sublime conspire, And each full eye pours forth a gushing rill; A Sappho's sweetness, and a Homer's fire Now all at once my melting limbs decay, Attend their doom, and wait with glad surprise la one clear stream dissolving fast away." Th' impartial justice of Cleora's eyes
"Tis hard to say, what mysteries of fate, 'Tis yours, like these, with curious toil to trace What turns of furtune 07-goud writers wait. The pow'rs of language, harmony, and grace, The party-slave will wound 'en as he cau, How nature's self with living lustre shines; And damns the merit, if he lates the man. How judgment strengthens, and how art refines; Nay, ev'n the bards with wit and laurels crown'd, How to grow bold with conscious sense of fame, Bless'd in each strain, id ev'ry art renown'd, And force a pleasure wbich te dare not blame: Misled by pride, and taught to sin by pow'r, To charm us more thro' negligence than pains, Still search around for those they may derour; And give ev'n life and action to the strains : Like savage monarchs on a guilty throne, Led by some law, wbose pow'rful impulse guides Who crush all might that can invade their own. Each happy stroke, and in the soul presides :
Others who hate, yet want the soul to dare, Some fairer image of perfection, gir'n So ruin bards-as beaus deceive the fair: T'inspire mankind, itself deriv'd from Hearin. On the pleas'd ear their soft deceits employ; O ever worthy, ever crown'd with praise ; Smiling they wound, and praise but to destruy. Blest in thy life, and blest in all thy lays! These are th' unhappy crimes of modern days, Add that the sisters ev'ry ihought refine: Aud can the best of poets hope for praise ? Or er'n thy life be faultless as thy line;
How small a part of human blessings share Yet envy still with fiercer rage pursues, The wise, the good, the noble, or the fair ! Obscures the virtue, and defames the Muse. Short is the date unhappy wit can boast, A soul like thine, in pains, in grief resign'd, A blaze of glory in a moment lost,
Views with vain scorn the malice of mankind: Fortune, still envious of the great man's praise, Not critics, but their planets prove unjust : Curses the coxcomb with a length of days. And are they blam'd who sin because they most! So (Hector dead) amid the female quire,
Yet sure not so must all peruse thy lays; Unmanly Paris tun'd the silver lyre,
I cannot rival--and yet dare to praise. Attend ye Britons! in so just a cause
A thousand charms at once my thoughts engage, Tis sure a scandal, to withhold applause ; Sappho's soft sweetness, Pindar's warmer rage, Nor let posterity reviling say,
Staljus' free vigour, Virgil's studious care, Thus unregarded Fenton pass'd away!
And Homer's force, and Ovid's easier air. Yet if the Muse may faith or merit claim,
So seems some picture, where exact design, (A Muse too just to bribe with venal fame) And curious pains, and strength and sweetness Soon shalt thou shine “in inajesty avow'd ;
(tous, As thy own goddess breaking thro' a cloud.”'
Where the free thonght its pleasing grace bes. Fame, like a nation-debt, tho' long delay'd, And each warm stroke with living colour glows: With mighty int'rest must at last be paid. Soft without weakness, without labour fair;
Like Vinci's strokes, thy verses we behold; Wrought up at once with happiness and care ! Correctly graceful, and with labour bold.
How blest the man that from the world remores At Sappho's woes we breathe a tender sigh,
To joys that Mordaunt, or his Pope approves; And the soft sorrow steals from ev'ry eye. Whose taste exact each author can explore, Here Spenser's thoughts in solemn numbers roll, And live the present and past ages o’er: Here lofty Milton seems to lift the soul.
Who free from pride, from penitence, or strife, There sprightly Chaucer charms our hours away Move calmly forward to the verge of life. With stories quaint, and gentle roundelay. Such be my days, and such my fortunes be, Muse! at that name each thought of pride To live by reason, and to write by thee! recall,
Nor deem this verse, tho' humble, thy disgrace; Ah, think how soun the wise and glorious fall! All are vot born the glory of their race : What though the sisters ev'ry grace impart, Yet all are born t'adore the great man's name, To smooth thy verse, and captivate the heart : And trace liis footsteps in the paths to fame. What though your charms, my fair Cleora ! shine The Muse, who now this early homage pays, Pright as your eyes, and as your sex divine : First learn'd from thee to animate ber lays: Yer shall the verses, and the charms decay, A Muse as yet unhonour'd, but upstain'd, The boast of youth, the blessing of a day! Who prais'd no vices, no preferment gain'd; Not Chaucer's beauties could survive the rage Unbiass'd or to censure or commend, Of wasting envy, and devouring age:
Who kvows no envy, and who grieves no frierd; One mingled heap of ruin now we see:
Perhaps too fond to make those virtues known, Thus Chaucer is, and Fenton thus shall be ! And fix her fame immortal on thy own.
TO MR. POPE.
THE SIXTH THEBAID OF STATITS. To move the springs of nature as we please,
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH ; wrth NOTES To think with spirit, but to write with ease: With living words to warm the conscious heart, Thebajdos, lætam fecit eum Statius urbem,
Curritur ad vocem jucundam, & carmen amicæ
Promisitque diem : tantâ dulcedine captos
ARGUMENT TO THE WHOLE TUEBAID. . Epistle to Southerne.
OEDIPUs the son of Laius, king of Thebes, was