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Who leads beneficent a virtuous life,

Who wrongs no virgin, who corrupts no wife;
No robber he, no murderer of mankind,
No mifer, fervant to the fordid mind.
Dare to be juft, my Pamphilus, disdain
The smallest trifle for the greatest gain:
For God is nigh thee, and his purer fight
In acts of goodness only takes delight:
He feeds the labourer for his honeft toil,
And heaps his fubstance as he turns the foil.
To him then humbly pay the rites divine,
And not in garments, but in goodness fhine.
Guiltlefs of confcience thou may'ft fafely fleep,
Tho' thunder bellow thro' the boundless deep.

ANACRE ON, ODE XXXVI,

BUSY Rhetor, hence away
Dictate not to me, I pray;

What care I for all your rules?
Love and Bacchus hate the schools.
Teach me not, then, what to fay,
Teach Anacreon to be gay:
Teach me not then how to think,
Teach Anacreon how to drink.

See the envious hand of time,
Robs Anacreon of his prime !
See the wrinkles knit my brow!
See the filver treffes flow!

Ceafe, then cease your pedant ftrain;
Fit for philofophic brain.

Since, my friend, I'm growing grey,
I'll be merry whilft I may;

Drink and revel it away.

Quickly boy nay fafter pour;
Death, perhaps, is at the door:

Quick then

left I drink no more.

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ADAM, before your feet I lay

This ode upon your wedding day,

The first indeed I ever made,
For writing odes is not my trade;

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My

My head is full of houthold cares,
And neceffary dull affairs;'

B fides that fometimes jealous frumps
Will put me into doleful dumps.
And then no clown beneath the sky
Was e'er more ungallant than I
For you alone I now think fit
To turn a poet and a wit--

For you whofe charms, I know not how,
Have power to fmooth my wrinkled brow,
And make me, though by nature stupid,
As brifk, and as alert, as Cupid.
Thefe obligations to repay,
Wiche'er your happy nuptial day
Shall with the circling years return,
For you my torch fhall brighter burn;
Than when you firft my pow'r ador'd ;
Nor will I call myfelf your lord,
But am (as witness this my hand)
Your humble fervant at command,

Dear child, let Hymen not beguile
You, who are fuch a judge of ftyle,
To think that he these verfes made,
Without an abler penman's aid;
Obferve them well, you'll plainly fee,

That every line was writ by me,

HYMEN.

CUPID.

The ELM and VINE. A FABLE.

Infcribed to a LADY who expressed a great averfion to Marriage.

IN Afop's days, when trees cou'd fpeak,
And talk in Hebrew, Latin, Greek,

"T

An elm and vine, by chance near neighbours,
Tho' feparate, each purfued their labours:
The vine, with native sweetness fraught,
For man prepar'd the chearing draught
Her tendrils curl'd along the plain,
And ruddy clufters fwell'd amain.
The tow'ring elm could little boast,
But leaves a barren fhade at moft;
Save when by woodman's fturdy stroke
Cut down to make a chair, or spoke ;
Yet tho' but fmall his claim to merit,
Not wholly void of fenfe or fpirit,
His neighbour's worth he view'd with fmiles,
And long'd to fhare her ufeful toils.

For,

Care, dreadful in its ceafeless course,
Will fcale with all controuling force
The proudest first-rate's fide:
Nor (fleeter than the driving wind)
Can horfemen leave its fteps behind,
Like Shaftoe tho' they ride..

The man whose prefent moments flow
Serene-with thoughts of future woe,
Will ne'er difturb his breast:

Adversity his foul derides,

Or in a fimile his grief he hides.
None are intirely bleft.

Bute foon forfook the public stage,
Newcastle to a good old.age

Enjoy'd the charms of pow'r :
What fortune now denies to thee,
Before to-morrow's dawn on me
Her lavish hand may fhow'r.

To thee fair wealth her tribute brings,
At thy gay board, from plenty's fprings,
Champaigne and claret flow:

Six prancing fteeds thy chariot bear,
And Gallia's choiceft filks you wear,
Or in embroid❜ry glow.

I only boaft a fmall eftate,

A mufe that, nor fublime, or great,
Jogs on a gentle pace:

A foul, that dares despise a slave,

And views, with fcorn, a tinfel'd knave,

Or in, or out out of place.

H. P.

DIANA. A CANTATA from ROUSSEAU.

TH

HE fun was now defcended to the main,
When chafte Diana, and her virgin train,

Efpied, within the covert of a grove,
The little Cupids and the god of love
All faft afleep-ftretch'd on the moffy ground:
Surpris'd, a while the goddess gaz'd,
Then gently thus her accents rais'd:
"Fell tyrants of each tender breast
Sleep on, and let mankind have reft:
For oh, foon as your eyes unclose,
Adieu to all the world's repofe...

P 2

A

Huh

Hufh-foftly tread, and filence keep;
The wanton gods are all asleep;
Let's break their darts and bows,
So in our turn

We'll make them mourn,

And give the world repose.

'Tis done for fcarce the goddess fpoke,
But lo! their darts and bows are broke;
Their quivers hang in triumph high,
When thus the nymphs exprefs their joy:
Our victory's great,
Our glory's compleat,

No longer shall we be alarm'd;
Then fing and rejoice,

With one heart and voice,
For Cupid at length is difarm'd.
Ye nymphs and ye fwains,
Who dwell on these plains,

And have by fond paffions been harm'd,
Secure of your hearts

Now laugh at his darts,

For Cupid at length is difarm'd.
Rouz'd with the noife, the god in wild affright
Awakes; but oh! what objects fhock his fight!
His dreaded arms in fcatter'd fhivers thrown;
O cruel goddefs-but I fcorn to moan.
Revenge be mine-ftill one unbroken dart
Remains-He faid, and lanc'd it thro' her heart.
Beware how you the god of love provoke;
Ah! what avail a thousand arrows broke,
If one remains to waft

The dire heart-wounding fhaft!

Ah! what avail a thoufand arrows broke
If one remains to waft the fatal stroke!

The ACCEPTABLE SACRIFICE:

A fragment of Menander, tranflated by Francis Fawks, M. A.

WHOE'ER approaches to the Lord of all,

And with his offerings defolates the stall;
Who brings an hundred bulls with garlands dreft,
The purple mantle, or the golden veft,
Or ivory figures richly wrought around,
Or curious images with emeralds crown'd;
And hopes with these God's favour to obtain,
His thoughts are foolish and his hopes are vain.
He, only he may truft his pray'rs will rife,
And heav'n accept his grateful facrifice,

Who

Who leads beneficent a virtuous life,

Who wrongs no virgin, who corrupts no wife;
No robber he, no murderer of mankind,
No mifer, fervant to the fordid mind.
Dare to be just, my Pamphilus, disdain
The smallest tride for the greatest gain :
For God is nigh thee, and his purer fight
In acts of goodness only takes delight:
He feeds the labourer for his honest toil,
And heaps his fubstance as he turns the foil.
To him then humbly pay the rites divine,
And not in garments, but in goodness fhine.
Guiltless of conscience thou may'st safely fleep,
Tho' thunder bellow thro' the boundless deep.

ANACRE ON, ODE XXXVI,

BUSY Rhetor, hence away

Dictate not to me, I pray;

What care I for all your rules?
Love and Bacchus hate the schools.
Teach me not, then, what to say,
Teach Anacreon to be gay:
Teach me not then how to think,
Teach Anacreon how to drink.

See the envious hand of time,

Robs Anacreon of his prime !
See the wrinkles knit my brow!
See the filver treffes flow!

Cease, then cease your pedant strain ;
Fit for philofophic brain.

Since, my friend, I'm growing grey,

I'll be merry whilft I may;

Drink and revel it away.

Quickly boy nay fafter pour;
Death, perhaps, is at the door:
Quick then

left I drink no more.

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