Of the FOURTH BOOK of

HORA C E.

A

TO VENUS.

GAIN? new Tumults in my breast ;
Ah spare me, Venus! let me, let me rest!
I am not now, alas! the man

As in the gentle Reign of My Queen Anne.
Ah found no more thy foft alarms,
Nor circle fober fifty with thy Charms.
Mother too fierce of dear Defires!

Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires.
To Number five direct your Doves,

There spread round M** y all your blooming Loves;
Noble and young, who ftrikes the heart

With every sprightly, every decent part;
Equal, the injur'd to defend,

To charm the Mistress, or to fix the Friend.

NTERMISSA Venus diu

INT

Rurfus bella moves? parce precor, precor!
Non fum qualis eram, bona

Sub regno Cynara: Define, dulcium

Mater fava Cupidinum,

Circa luftra decem fle&ere mollibus

Jam durum imperiis: abi

Quo blanda juvenum te revocant preces.
Tempeftiviùs in domo

Paulli, purpureis ales oloribus,

He,

ODE I. BOOK IV, &c.

He, with a hundred Arts refin'd,

Shall firetch thy conquefts over half the kind:

To him each Rival shall submit,

Make but his Riches equal to his Wit.

Then shall thy Form the Marble grace,
(Thy Græcian Form, and Chloe lend the Face
His House, embosom'd in the Grove,
Sacred to focial life and focial love,

Shall glitter o'er the pendent green,
Where Thames reflects the vifionary scene:
Thither, the filver-founding Lyres
Shall call the smiling Loves, and young Defires;
There, every Grace and Mufe fhall throng,
Exalt the dance, or animate the song;

There Youths and Nymphs, in confort gay,
Shall hail the rifing, close the parting day.
With me, alas! those joys are o'er ;
For me, the vernal garlands bloom no more.

Come fabere Maximi,

Si torrere jecur quæris idoneum.
Namque & nobilis & decens,
Et pro folicitis non tacitus reis,
Et centum puer artium,
Latè figna feret militiæ tuæ.
Et quandoque potentior
Largis muneribus riferit æmuli,

Albanos prope te lacus

Ponet marmoream, fub trabe citrea.

Illic plurima naribus

Duces thura; lyræque & Berecynthia
Delectabere tibia

Miftis carminibus, non fine fiftulâ.

G

97

Adieu !

Adieu! fond hope of mutual fire, The ftill-believing, still-renew'd defire ; Adieu! the heart-expanding bowl, And all the kind Deceivers of the foul!

But why? ah tell me, ah too dear!

Steals down my cheek th' involuntary Tear?
Why words fo flowing, thoughts fo free,
Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of thee?
Thee, dreft in Fancy's airy beam,

Abfent I follow thro' th' extended Dream;
Now, now I feize, I clafp thy charms,
And now you burst, (ah cruel!) from my arms,
And swiftly fhoot along the Mall,

Or foftly glide by the Canal,

Now shown by Cynthia's filver ray, And now, on rolling waters fnatch'd away.

Illic bis pueri die

Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum
Laudantes, pede candido

In morem Salium ter quatient humum.
Me nec femina, nec puer
Jam, nec fpes animi credula mutui,

Nec certare juvat mero :

Nec vincire novis tempora floribus.

Sed cur, heu! Ligurine, cur

Manat rara meas lacryma per genas ?
Cur facunda parum decoro

Inter verba cadit lingua filentio ?

Nocturnis te ego fomniis

Jam captum teneo: jam volucrem fequor

Te, per gramina Martii

Campi, te per aquas, dure, volubiles.

**

THE

SIXTH SATIRE

OF THE

SECOND BOOK

O F

HORACE.

The first Part imitated in the Year 1714, by Dr. Swift; the latter Part now firft added.