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But when their life, in its decline,
I'd advise them, when they spy
ODE, FROM CATULLUS.
ACME AND SEPTIMIUS. Whilst on Septimius' panting breast (Meaning nothing less than rest) Acrne lean'd her loving head, Thus the pleas'd Septimius said:
My dearest Acme, if I be Once alive, and love not thee With a passion far above All that e'er was called love; In a Libyan desert may I become some lion's prey ; Let him, Acme, let him tear My breast, when Acme is not there."
The god of love, who stood to hear him,
In a deep vision's intellectual scene,
Th’ uncomfortable shade
Of the black yew's unlucky green
The melancholy Cowley lay.
That art can never imitate;
feet. She touch'd him with her harp, and rais'd him fror
the ground; The shaken strings melodiously resound.
“Art thou return'd at last," said she,
“To this forsaken place and me?
And Winter marches on so fast ?
Had to their dearest children done,
show, Would'st into courts and cities from me go; Would'st see the world abroad, and have a share In all the follies and the tumults there : Thou wouldst, forsooth, be something in a state, And business thou would'st find, and would'st
Business! the frivolous pretence
Business! the grave impertinence;
“My little life, my all!" (said she)
This good omen thus from Heaven Like a happy signal given, Their loves and lives (all four) embrace, And hand in hand run all the race. To poor Septimius (who did now Nothing else but Acme grow) Acme's bosom was alone The whole world's imperial throne; And to faithful Acme's mind Septimius was all human-kind.
“Go, renegado! cast up thy account,
And see to what amount
Thy foolish gains by quitting me: The sale of knowledge, fame, and liberty, The fruits of thy unlearn'd apostasy. Thou thought'st, if once the public storm were
If the gods would please to be But advis'd for once by me,
AD thy remaining life should sunshine be; The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,
Make all my art and labor fruitless now;
Where once such fairies dance, no grass doch ever And thou, with all the noble company,
Art got at last to shore.
"When my new mind had no infusion known, All march'd up to possess the promis'd land, Thou gar'st so deep a tincture of thine own, Thom, still alone, alas! dost gaping stand
That ever since I vainly try Cpon the naked beach, upon the barren sand!
To wash away th' inherent dye :
Long work perhaps may spoil thy colors quite, - As a fair morning of the blessed spring,
But never will reduce the native white: After a tedious stormy night,
To all the ports of honor and of gain, Such was the glorious entry of our king;
I often steer my course in vain ;
By making them so oft to be
Whoever this world's happiness would see,
Must as entirely cast off thee, And upon all the quicken'd ground
As they who only Heaven desire
Do from the world retire.
Myself a demi-votary to make.
Thus, with Sapphira and her husband's fate, The men whom through long wanderings he had led) (A fault which I, like them, am taught too late,
That he would give them ev'n a Heaven of For all that I gave up I nothing gain, brass :
And perish for the part which I retain They look'd up to that Heaven in vain, That bounteous Heaven, which God did not re- "Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse! strain
The court, and better king, t'accuse : Upon the most unjust to shine and rain
The heaven under which I live is fair,
The fertile soil will a full harvest bear: The Rachel, for which twice seven years and more Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou
Thou didst with faith and labor serve, Mak’st me sit still and sing, when I should plow And didst (if faith and labor can) deserve, When I but think how many a tedious year Though she contracted was to thee,
Our patient sovereign did attend Given to another thou didst see,
His long misfortunes' fatal end; Given to another, who had store
How cheerfully, and how exempt from fear, Of fairer and of richer wives before,
On the Great Sovereign's will he did depend; And not a Leah left, thy recompense to be! I ought to be accurst, if I refuse Go on; twice seven years more thy fortune try; To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse! Twice seven years more God in his bounty may Kings have long hands, they say; and, though I be Give thee, to fling away
So distant, they may reach at length to me. Into the court's deceitful lottery :
However, of all the princes, thou But think how likely 'tis that thou,
Should'st not reproach rewards for being small or With the dull work of thy unwieldly plow,
slow; Should'st in a hard and barren season thrive, Thou! who rewardest but with popular breath, Should'st even able be to live;
And that too after death."
HYMN TO LIGHT.
From the old Negro's darksome womb!
Which, when it saw the lovely child,
Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile,
The melancholy Cowley said
The ills which thou thyself hast made ?
And my abused soul didst bear
Thy golden Indies in the air ;
My ravish'd freedom to regain;
There is a sort of stubborn weeds,
No wholesome herb can near them thrive,
|Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know,
But ever ebb and ever fluw!
Thou golden shower of a true Jove!
Hail, active Nature's watchful life and healtn
Her joy, her ornament, and wealth!
Hail to thy husband, Heat, and thee!
Say, from what golden quivers of the sky The ghosts, and monster-spirits, that did presume Do all thy winged arrows fly?
A body's privilege to assume,
Vanish again invisibly,
| All the world's bravery, that delights our eyes, "Tis, I believe, this archery to show,
Is but thy several liveries;
Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st,
Thy nimble pencil paints this landscape as thor Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bow.
Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st;
A crown of studded gold thou bear'st;
The virgin-lilies, in their white,
Thou in the Moon's bright chariot, proud and gay, The violet, Spring's little infant, stands
Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands
On the fair tulip thou dost doat; Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal |Thou cloth'st it in a gay and party-color'd coal spring.
With flame condens'd thou do'st thy jewels fix, Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above And solid colors in it mix: The Sun's gilt tents for ever move,
Flora herself envies to see And still, as thou in pomp dost go,
Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she The shining pageants of the world attend thy show.
Ah, goddess! would thou could'st thy hand withhold
And be less liberal to gold!
Did'st thou less value to it give,
of how much care, alas! might'st thou poor man And with those living spangles gild
relieve! (O greatness without pride!) the bushes of the
To me the Sun is more delightful far, field.
And all fair days much fairer are. Night, and her ugly subjects, thou dost fright,
But few, ah! wondrous few, there be, And Sleep, the lazy owl of night;
Who do not gold prefer, 0 goddess ! ev'n to thee Asham'd, and fearful to appear, They screen their horrid shapes with the black Through the soft ways of Heaven, and air, and sea hemisphere.
Which open all their pores to thee,
Like a clear river thou dost glide, With them there hastes, and wildly takes th'alarm,
And with thy living stream through the close chan
nels slide. Of painted dreams a busy swarm:
At the first opening of thine eye
But, where firm bodies thy free course oppose,
Gently thy source the land o'erflows; The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts,
Takes there possession, and does make Creep, conscious, to their secret rests :
Of colors mingled light, a thick and standing lake Nature to thee does reverence pay, Il omens and ill sights removes out of thy way.
But the vast ocean of unbounded day,
In th' empyrean Heaven does stay. At thy appearance, Grief itself is said
Thy rivers, lakes, and springs, below, To shake his wings, and rouse his head :
From thence took first their rise, thither at last
must flow. And cloudy Care has often took A gentle beamy smile, reflected from thy look.
At thy appearance, Fear itself grows bold;
Hore! whose weak being ruin'd is, To the cheek color comes, and firmness to the Alike, if it succeed, and if it miss ; knee.
Whom good or ill does equally confound,
And both the horns of Fate's dilemma wound : Ev'n Lust, the master of a harden'd face,
Vain shadow! which does vanish quite, Blushes, if thou be'st in the place,
Both at full noon and perfect night! To Darkness' curtains he retires;
The stars have not a possibility In sympathizing night he rolls his smoky fires.
of blessing thee;
If things then from their end we happy call, When, goddess ! thou lift'st up thy waken'd head, "Tis hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
Out of the morning's purple bed,
Hope! thou bold taster of delight, (quite. And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. Who, whilst thou should'st but taste, devour'st is
Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor,
Fruition more deceitful is By clogging it with legacies before!
Than thou canst be, when thou dost miss ; The joys which we entire should wed, Men leave thee by obtaining, and straight flee Come deflower'd virgins to our bed;
Some other way again to thee; Good fortunes without gain imported be,
And that's a pleasant country, without doubt Such mighty custom's paid to thee.
To which all soon return that travel out.
CLAUDIAN'S OLD MAN OF VERONA.
DE SENE VERONENSI, QUI SUBURBIUM NUNQUAM Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far, That still or short or wide thine arrows are!
Felix, qui patriis, &c.
Happy the man, who his whole time doth bound But must drop presently in tears!
Within th' inclosure of his little ground. When thy false beams o'er Reason's light prevail,
Happy the man, whom the same humble place By ignes fatui for north-stars we sail.
(Th' hereditary cottage of his race)
From his first rising infancy has known, Brother of Fear, more gayly clad!
And by degrees sees gently bending down,
Could ever into foolish wanderings get.
He never heard the shrill alarms of war,
The change of seasons is his calendar.
Autumn by fuits, and spring by flowers, he knows
He measures time by land-marks, and has found Hore! of all ills that men endure,
For the whole day the dial of his ground. The only cheap and universal cure!
| A neighboring wood, born with himself, he sees, Thon captive's freedom, and thou sick man's health! And loves his old contemporary trees. Thou loser's victory, and thou beggar's wealth!
hi" He 'as only heard of near Verona's name, Thou manna, which from Heaven we eat,
And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame. To every taste a several meat!
Does with a like concernment notice take Thou strong retreat! thou sure-entail'd estate,
of the Red-sea, and of Benacus' lake. Which nought has power to alienate!
|Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys, Thou pleasant, honest flatterer! for none
And sees a long posterity of boys. Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone!
About the gpacious world let others roam,
The voyage, life, is longest made at home.
Well, then; I now do plainly see And art a blessing still in hand!
This busy world and I shall ne'er agree; Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain,
The very honey of all earthly joy We certain are to gain,
Does of all meats the soonest cloy ; Whether she her bargain break or else fulfil;
And they, methinks, deserve my pity, Thou only good, not worse for ending ill!
Who for it can endure the stings, Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee
| The crowd, and buzz, and murmurings, The joys of Heaven and Earth divided be!
of this great hive, the city. Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate,
Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave, Thy portion yet in movables is great.
May I a small house and large garden have! Happiness itself's all one
And a few friends, and many books, both true, In thee, or in possession!
Both wise, and both delightful too! Only the future's thine, the present his !
And, since love ne'er will from me flee, Thine's the more hard and noble bliss :
A mistress moderately fair, Best apprehender of our joys! which hast
And good as guardian-angels are, So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast !
Only belov'd, and loving me! Hope! thou sad lovers' only friend!
Oh, fountains ! when in you shall I Thou Way, that may'st dispute it with the End! Myself, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy? For love, I fear,'s a fruit that does delight Oh fields ! oh woods! when, when shall I be made The taste itself less than the smell and sight.
The happy tenant of your shade ?
Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood; Where all the riches lie, that she
Has coin'd and stamp'd for good.
Pride and ambition here Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter,
And nought but Echo flatter.
The gods, when they descended, hither From Heaven did always choose their way; And therefore we may boldly say,
That 'tis the way too thither.
How happy here should I,
In deserts solitude.
I should have then this only fearLest men, when they my pleasures see, Should hither throng to live like me,
And so make a city here.
Though so exalted she
And I so lowly be, Tell her, such different notes make all thy har
mony. Hark! how the strings awake: And, though the moying hand approach not near,
Themselves with awful fear,
Now all thy forces try,
Now all thy charms apply, Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye.
Weak Lyre! thy virtue sure
To cure, but not to wound,
Too weak too wilt thou prove
My passion to remove, Physic to other ills, thou’rt nourishment to love.
FROM THE DAVIDEIS. AWAKE, awake, my Lyre! And tell thy silent master's humble tale
In sounds that may prevail ; Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire :
Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre!
In sounds that will prevail ;
All thy vain mirth lay by,
Bid thy strings silent lie, Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre; and let thy master