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XXX.

TO THE MUSE MELPOMENE.

Horace has gained eternal glory by his lyric compofitions.

I'VE made a monument to pass
The permanence of folid brass,
And rais'd to a fublimer height
Than pyramids of royal state,

Which washing rains, or winds that blow
With vehemence, cannot o'erthrow:

Nor will th' innumerable tale

Of

years, or flight of time avail.
For death fhall never have the whole
Of Horace, whofe immortal foul
Shall 'fcape the pow'rs of human bane,
And for new praise his works remain,
As long as priest and filent maid
Shall to the Capitol parade;
Where Aufidus in rapture goes,
And where poor Daunus fcarcely flows,
Once rural king-I fhall be thought

The prince of Roman bards, that brought
To Italy th' Æolian airs,

Advanc'd from want to great affairs.

PROSE INTERPRETATION.

fcanty of water, though of yore the prince of rural fwains, as powerful from a fmall beginning to have first brought the Æolian verfe to accord with Italian meafures. O Melpomene !

F 2

take

Quæfitam mcritis, & mihi Delphicâ

Lauro cinge volens Melpomene comam.

PROSE INTERPRETATIO N.

take upon you the pride acquired by defert, and with the Delphic laurel gladly crown my hair.

QUINTI

Affume, Melpomene, that pride,
Which is to real worth ally'd;
And in good will defcending down,
With Delphic bays my temples crown.

Horatius jam eâ eft ætate, ut à rebus amatoriis & carminibus ludicris alieno effe animo debeat.

INTERMISSA Venus diu,

Rurfus bella moves. Parce, precor, precor.

Non fum qualis eram bonæ

Sub regno Cynara. Define dulcium

Mater fæva Cupidinum,

Circa luftra decem flectere mollibus

Jam durum imperiis. Abi

Quo blandæ juvenum te revocant preces.

PPOSE INTERPRETATION.

Venus! left off for fo long a time, again do you wage war? Prithee, prithee fpare me. I am not fuch as I was under the reign of good Cynara. Ceafe, thou barbarous

mother

Horace is now arrived to that time of day, when he ought to alienate himself from love affairs, and ludicrous verfes.

LEFT alone fo long a season,

What! again new warfare rage?
Spare me, Venus, treafon! treason!
This is not a lover's age.
Now no more my youthful vigour
Good queen Cynara infpires-

Ceafe to use thy gentle rigour,

Parent fierce of fweet defires.

PROSE INTERPRETATION.

mother of the fweet defires, to fubdue to your foft commands one about fifty, now hardened against them. Depart where

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the