X.

Yonder feats and fields of light

Let thy ravish'd thought explore;
Wifhing, panting for thy flight!
Half an angel; man no more.

TRANSLATIONS from HORACE.

By Mr. MARRIOTT, of Trinity-Hall, Cambridge.

Book I. Ode XVII.

Invitation to his Mistress.

FT Faunus leaves Arcadia's plain,

And to the Sabine hill retreats :

He guards my flocks from rushing rain,
From piercing winds, and fcorching heats.

Where lurks the thyme, or fhrubs appear,
My wanton kids fecurely play;

My goats no pois'nous ferpent fear,

Safe wand'ring through the woodland way.

No hoftile wolf the fold invades ;
Uftica's pendent rocks rebound

My fong and all the fylvan fhades,

By Echo taught, return the found.

The gods my verfe propitious hear,
My head from every danger shield:
you, o'erflows the bounteous year,
And Plenty's horn hath heap'd my field.

For

Refponfive to the Teian ftring,

Within the fun-defended vale,
Here, foftly warbling you shall fing
Each tender, tuneful, am'rous tale.

No rival, here, fhall burft the bands

That wreathe my charmer's beauteous hair,

Nor feize her weakly ftruggling hands;
But Love and Horace guard the fair.

Book

B

Book II. Ode VI. Imitated.

EVIL, that with your friend would roam,

Far from your England's happier home, Should e'er the Fates that friend detain

In gayer France, or graver Spain;

Know, all my wish is to retreat,
When age fhall quench my youthful heat,
In Kentifh fhades fweet peace to find,
And leave the fons of care behind.

But fhould this pleafing hope be vain,
May I fair Windfor's feat attain,
Where Leddon's gentle waters glide,
And flocks adorn its flowery fide.

Sweet groves, I love your filent fhades,
Your ruffet lawns, and op'ning glades.
With fam'd Italia's plains may vie
Your fertile fields, and healthful sky.

Here, let our eve of life be spent ;
Here, friend fhall live with friend content:
Here, in cold earth my limbs be laid;

And here thy generous tear be paid.

Book II. Ode XII. Tranflated.

HE wars of Numantia and Hannibal dire,

THE

On land, or on ocean the fighting, Mæcenas, ne'er fuited my peaceable lyre,

In subjects much softer delighting.

You love not of centaurs embattled to hear,
Nor of giants, a tale of fuch wonder,
Who shook all the skies, made Jupiter fear,
'Till drove by Alcides and thunder.

In profe, my good patron, more nobly you write,
As your topic than these is much better,
How Cæfar with glory can govern and fight,
And lead haughty kings in his fetter.

Alone my gay Mufe of Licinia would fing,
The conftant, good-natur'd, and pretty,
So graceful to dance with the maids in a ring,
So fparkling, fo merry, and witty.

While you play with her hair that is carelessly curl'd,
While this way, now that way fhe twitches,
Of your teazing fo kindly complaining, no world
Could bribe for one lock with its riches.

Thus

Thus bleft with the nymph, how transporting the joy!

Who whimsical, wanton, amuses; Who pleasingly forward, or prettily coy,

Oft fnatches the kifs fhe refuses.

To a LADY making a Pin-Basket.

By the Same.

HILE objects of a parent's care,
With joy your fond attention share,
Madam, accept th' auspicious strain;

Nor rife your beauteous work in vain.

Oft be your fecond race furvey'd,

And oft a new pin-basket made.

When marriage was in all its glory,
So poets, madam, tell the story,
Ere Plutus damp'd love's purer flame,
Or Smithfield bargains had a name,
In heav'n a blooming youth and bride
At Hymen's altars were ally'd;
When Cupid had his Pfyché won,
And, all her deftin'd labours done,