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Plausus orantum sint aliis Virûm

Tun'd to new joys my hours I pass, Puæsita merces: sat tibi gloriæ,

Sing with the Muse, trip with the lass,
Te urgente, Vates invidende,

And ne'er forget my bliss-inspiring glass,
Virgineos maduisse vultus.

With Horace now dispos'd to laugh,
Worthy the lips of Jove I quaff
Rich Venusine: now lose my soul

In Ovid's sweet nectareal bowl.
WINTER;

If you, Calliope, should deign
A TRANSLATION OF ODE BRUMALIS. Aloud to sound a martial strain,

Your vot'ry straight in rapture hears
By the Reverend Mr. Tattersal, late Fellow of The noble music of the spheres :
Trinity College, Cambridge.

Mounted on wings, see! see! I fly

With Mantua's swan, and range the boundless sky. ALAS! no longer now appear The softer seasons of the year.

With eager joy I oft repair Of Sports and Loves what Muse now sings? To the gay crowded theatre, Away, my lyre;-boy, break the strings.

Where shines the man who treads our stage,

Garrick! the Roscius of the age! Old jopless Winter, who disdains

His voice, mien, manner, look, a life imparts; Your sprightly, flow'ry, attic strains,

'T is he who captivates our eyes,ếour hearts. Wrapt into sable calls for airs Rough, rueful, as the rug he wears,

Vanbrugh,

your leave,—what's lewdly writ

I hate.--I hate th’immoral wit. Pleasure, for ever on the wing,

Immortal Shakspeare I admire, Wild, wanton, restless, fluttering thing,

And kindle at his sacred fire: Airy springs by with sudden speed,

0! what a glory breathes his page, Saifter than Maro's flying steed.

He lives!-he lives thro' ev'ry age

Father of tragedy, he reigns
A5! where is hid the sylvan scene,

Sole monarch o'er theatric plains.
The leafy shade, the vernal green?
In Flora's meads the sweets that grew,

Hence with the sock:--the queen commands:Chers which Nature's pencil drew,

Grac'd with the golden buskin stands: Ciaplets, the bust of Pope might wear,

The stage in majesty improves, Wortby to bloom around Ianthe's hair?

Trembling beneath her, awful as she moves. Gar-mantled Spring away is flown,

What thunder bursts !-it made me startThe silver-tressed Summer's gone,

Thunder beyond the reach of art! And golden Autumn; nought remains

The claps! I heard 'em,-how they roll! But Winter with his iron chains.

The lovely terrour shakes my soul:

Who talks of fiends!-of gaping graves! -
The feather-footed Hours that fly

Othello!-'t is Othello raves!
Say, “ Haman life thus passes by.”
What shall the wise, the prudent? they

What tenderness! --what fierce disdain
Will seize the bounty of to-day,

[pay.

Whirls, boils, and foams through ev'ry vein! And prostrate to the gods their grateful hoinage He swears!_invokes Hell, Earth, air, skies!

See where the glorious madman flies! The man, whom Isis' stream inspires,

He groans,he trembles, falls,--the hero dies! Wixon Pallas owns, and Phæbus fires, Wirom Suada, smiling goddess, deigns To guide in sweet Hyblæan plains,

Shakspeare, excessive joys like these

(I almost said) are cruelties: He Winter's storms, undaunted still, sustains.

Whirlwinds of pleasure tear the panting breast, Black lowring skies ne'er hurt the breast

And the mind aches, too exquisitely blest.
By white rob'd Innocence possest.
Par as ye list, ye winds begin,-

Chang'd is the scene:-methinks 1 rove
Virtue proclaims fair peace within:

In some enchanted cypress grove.
Ethereal pow'r! 't is you that bring

Soft Otway calls!- who can refuse
The balmy Zephyrs, and restore the Spring. The plaintive voice of Otway's Muse?

We'll go, iny fair Ianthe, we will go,
Sbald dangers e'er my friend assail,

Tho' your fond love-inspiring eyes o'erflow Virtue flings round her coat of mail;

Like bubbling springs, more beautiful in woe. Kindly protects thee from all harms, Drest in her native spotless charms.

Sweet is the sympathy of woe;
Thy inind at ease no tumult knows,

Have I not seen (nay felt 'em too)
With all bis rage tho' black November blows. Down stealing Tears, big, silent, slow,

Speak a soft language as they flow,
Dark stormy months I too defy,

Daughters of tender Grief, express November blows, and w bat care I:

Charming Monimnia's deep distress! TOL IV.

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What murmurs of the anxious fair!

Audite, Cæli! num modulaminis What sighs around perfume the air!

Tales triumphos aula refert Jovis Otway, you paint what Nature is,

Stellata? Sphærarumve tales
Beyond the bard of Salamis;

Lucidus & numerosus ordo?
Your Muse can with our passions play,
And steal us from ourselves away.

O lene murmur! cum Venus aurea

Inire somnos, strata rosis, parat, Let others prize, what men bestow,

Melosque poscit; talis aura The lofty name, the laureld brow:

Idalias tremit inter umbras. More charming, sure, thy triumphs are (Who would not wish to win the fair!)

Quæ flamma venis pasta ! potentibus To raise at pleasure, hopes, or fears,

Succumbo victus blanditiis lyræ : To soften virgins into tears.

Succumbo victus voce, vultu, Poet, I envy thee, who thus

Crine nigro, niveoque collo,
Canst conquer them, who conquer us.

Sic prata sævis florea solibus
Oppressa languent. Perte, citò, precor,
Lenimen ægro; ferte rores

Metcafii medicos, sodales!
ODE VERNALIS:

Frustrà: nec unquàm Metcafii manus
AD

Extinguet ignes, docta licèt, meos;

Nec flumen, ah! vestri benignis
AMICUM OXONIENSEM,

Ingenii recreabit undis.
Curas Lyæus jàm mihi discutit
Raptìm; nec aurum (suavitèr insolens)
Vocale de myrto recuso
Vellere liberiore dextrâ.

SPRING;
Et quis vetabit quò minùs audeam

A TRANSLATION OF ODE VERNALIS.
Lusus amico mittere cum joco!
Ridere mens est; terra ridet;

By the Reverend Mr. Tattersal, late Fellow of Trinity Ipsa Venus negat esse tristes,

College, Cambridge.

Care fies the raptures of the bowl, Jucunda veris diva. Quid ampliùs

"T is jolly Bacchus tills my soul; Rugæ juvabunt? Versicoloribus

I feel within the genial fire, En Maius alis raptus afflat

And from yon inyrtle snatch my golden lyre. Lætitiam genialis auræ.

To thee the jocund Muse I send, Amice! (blando hoc nomine te vocem,

With sprightly lay to greet my friend: O Woode?) cum quo sæpè per Isidis

For all things now around look gay,
Errare sylvas, nùncque cantu

Why mayn't I laugh, as well as they?
Nuncque mero licuit morantes.

The fair, the young, my hours beguile,

And Cytherea ever wears a smile,
Duxisse soles in Thetidis toros,
Amice! quæ te gaudia fioreis

Creative goddess of the Spring!
Cingunt coronis? Quæquè molles

No more of Winter's storms I sing,
Nympha caput lepidum remulcet

Ste May in wanton joy appear

Spread his gay wings, and fan the buxom Year. Inter Lacertos? Nùm charitum chorus, Chorusve Pindi tempora dividit ?

My friend (indulge the tender name)
Sunt ambo grati; mense maji

My friend, near Isis' sacred stream,
Quin charites meliùs colantur.

W'ith whom so oft I us'd to rove

Careless, in garden, mead, or grove; Nunc dulce pictis desipere in toro

A glass, a song:- thus you and I

Have bid the golden minutes fly,
Herbis tumenti, vivus ubì tremor
Splendescit undæ; si poëtæ,

Seen many a Sun, with sloping ray,
Siquè aderint, tua cura, musa.

Ling'ring retire, and blest the falling day.

O tell me what soft triumphs now Adsit jocorum grata protervitas,

Wreath blooming garlands round thy brow; Thalia pleno quos tibi depluit

What nymph, for winning beauty known,
Cornu: nec absit Bacchus, uvæ,

Giving you joy, completes her own;
Evohe! purpureus magister. .

Whether the Graces, or the Nine

Divide thy hours, for both are thine? Handalus omnes tendere barbiti

'T is merry May, swains, greet the Graces' shrine, Nervos laboret; nec sileat placens lantha cantu, dùm jocoso

To frolic on the tufted grass,
Tangit ebur geniale plectro.

To view clear waters as they pass,

To mark the shining shivering gleam

The blue-ey'd violet and king-cup gay, That darts, and dances on the stream,

And new blown roses, smiling sweetly red, To court the Muse, toy with the fair,

Outglow'd the blushing infancy of Day, (away. (Pleasures like these, O! may I ever share). While amorous west-winds kist their fragrant souls The season bids: a friend or two,

A rich pavilion rear'd within its height, Ingenious, affable, like you;

The capitals and freezes gold entire, Happy at sudden repartees,

Glist'ning with carbuncles; a various light Whose answers bite, yet biting please,

Wav'd tremulous, and set the eye ou fire. To kindle mirth: and let me join

A silken curtain, drawn on silver wire, Bacchus, the purple sovereign of the vine. And ting'd with colours of the summer sky, May god-like Handel now inspire

Flow'd round, and bade the ruder gales retire.

Four forms attendant at the portals lie, The tuneful pow'rs and fill the choir:

The same Ezekiel saw with keen-prophetic eye. Janthe, charming as she sings, Wake with a nimble touch th' harmonious strings.

Unlike, O much unlike, the strawy shed, Listen, ye Heavens, to strains, above

Where Mary, queen of Heaven, in humbless4 lay, Whate’er the starry court of Jove,

Where ersts the infant God repos'd his head, Lost in melodious raptures, hears

And deign'd to dwell in tenement of clay; Amid the silver-sounding spheres ;

The clouded tabernacle of the day! Where orbs on orbs in concert roll,

The shepherd's dream was mystical, I ween, And music trembles round from pole to pole.

Isaiah on his bosom pour'd a ray,

And painted to his eyes the gentle scene, O melting sound! when sleep unseen

Where lions dandled lambs; O Peace, thy golder Just steals upon the Cyprian queen,

reign! Indulging in th’ Idalian shade, Stretcht on a couch, of roses made,

High-smiling in delight a lady sate, The late soft-warbling, such the air

Young as the dawning Morn, on iv'ry throne; That undulating plays, and lulls th’ immortal fair. Upon her looks the virgin-virtues wait,

The virgin-virtues wait on ber alone!
The flames that feed within my breast!
I faint, I die, with charms opprest;

Her sapphire-eyes with gentle spirit shone:

Fair bounty head was open'd in her face, Her voice, her face, her sweet spinnet,

Of honour and of love the paragon! The neck of iv'ry, and the hair of jet.

A sweet regard and most au.picious grace So languishes, and fades away

Bespoke her lineage high: she was of David's race. The flow'r beneath the blaze of day; Quick, my companions, quick apply

Upon her lap a lovely infant lay, Some cooling, sovereign remedy:

And ken'd the mother by her smiling grace. Metcalf, to sooth a burning pain,

His looks were radiant as the bloom of day, By Pæan taught, may try, but try in vain. And angel-sweetness purpled in his face.

Oh! how the mother did the babe embrace Not Metcalf's' skill, tho known to fame, With tender blandishment and fondling care! Can slake the fury of my flame,

She gaz'd, and gaz'd, ne8 could enough caress Not all bis juices quench; nor yet,

His cheeks, as roses red, as lilies fair, [heir! Dear friend, the flow of your engaging wit. The holy Day-spring hight, Heav'n's everlasting

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Near him a goodly pers'nage mildly shone, THE NATIVITY.

With looks of love, and shedding peace and joy:

Her looks werelove, soft streaming from the throne A COLLEGE EXERCISE. 1736.

Of Grace, and sweetly melted on the boy: "Twas morn! the fields were sprinkled o'er with Her tongue dropp'd honey, which wou'd never cloy. light,

Mercy yclep'd 9. All Nature on her hung, The folds unpent sent out their flocks to feed:

To drink her manna and her smiles enjoy; A shepherd boy, (young Thomalin he hight,')

Young laughing angels “ Mercy, mercy,” sung;

Heav'n echo'd “ With flying fingers deftly tun'd his reed;

Mercy" back, the spheres with Where ancient Isis Javes the Muses' mead,

“ Mercy” rung. (For ever sinile the mead and flow the stream!) He sung the birth of David's holy seed :

Thus if the clouds, enroll'd with deadly food, Tho low his voice, full lofty was his theme;

Forget to thunder in the ethereal tow'rs, Wightly' his senses all were rapt into a dream.

But silently dissolve in kindly mood,

In fostering dews, and balm, and honey-show'rs; Eftsoons3 he spyd a grove, the Season's pride, laugh all the fields for joy and all the bow'rs. All in the centre of a pleasant glade,

The shrubs and herbs fresh odours round them Aling, Where Nature Pourish'd like a virgin-bride; Pop up their smiling heads the little flow'rs, Mantled with green, with hyacinths inlay'd, Warble the birds, exulting on the wing, (sing. And crystal-rills o'er beds of lilies stray'd; And all the wild-wood notes the genial ble »ings

' Dr. T. Metcalf, an eminent physician who 4 Humility. s Formerly, sometime since, died in 1757. c.

6 I think. ? The pattern or model. Named or called. ? Quickly. Immediately.

9 Called or named.

8 Nor.

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High o'er his head was held a starry crown, Sweet-smelling flow'rs the gentle votaries bring, Emblem of royalty and princely might:

Primroses, violets, wet with morning-dew, His priesthood was by golden mitre shown; The sweetest incense of the early spring ; An eagle young, with e'yn most piercing-bright, A humble, yet, I weet, a grateful offering. To prove the prophet drank the distant light.

Jocund to lead the way, with sparkling rays, But strangest was to see a bloody hand Uprear a cross, the cross with blood bedight":

Danc'd a star-errant up the orient sky; Ten thousand angels, flutt'ring in a band,

The new-born splendour streaming o'er the place, Admir'd the mystic sign but cou'd not understand. Seem'd a fixt star unto the wond'ring eye:

Where Jesus lay in bright humility, Now dulcet symphonies, and voices meet, Three seers unwist 9 the captain-glory led, Mellifluous stole upon the shepherd's car, Of awful semblance', but of sable die. Which swelld so high and dy'd away so sweet, Full royally along the lawn they tread, [head. As might have charm'd a seraph from his sphere. And each with circling gold embraved 3 had his Happy the swain that mote? such music hear !

Low, very low on bended knee they greet Eftsoons a joyous fellowship was seen

The virgin-mother, and the son adore,
Of ladies gent 3, and beauties without peer",

The son of love! and kiss his blessed feet;
As they a train of goddesses had been,
In manner of a mask, radiant along the green.

Then ope the vases and present their store,

Gold, frankincense and myrrh; what cou'd they Faith led the van, her mantle dipt in blue, For gold and myrrh a dying king divine *; (more! Steady her ken, and gaining on the skies;

The frankincense, from Arab's spicy shore, Obedient miracles around her flew :

Confess'd the God; for God did in him shine: She pray'd, and Heav'n burst open on her eyes,

Myrrh, frankincense and gold, God-man, were And golden valves rollid back in wond'rous wise:

meetly thine. And now some hill, with all its shaggy load Of trees and flocks, into the ocean hiess :

And last, triumphant on a purple cloud, Now wings of cherubs, flaming all abroad,

Fleecy with gold, a band of angels ride:
Careering on the winds in sight upbear their god. They boldly sweep their lyres, and, hymning loud,

The richest notes of harmony divide;
Next Hope, the gayest daughter of the sky! Scarce Thomalin the rapture cou'd abide:
Her nectar-dewed locks with roses bound; And ever and anon the babe they eye,
An Edlen flourish'd where she cast her eye,

And through the fleshly veil the God descry'd, And Aocks of Sports and Joys, their temples Shrill hallelujahs tremble up the sky: [reply. crown'd,

[ground. Good-willand peace to man,”the choirs in Hear'n Plum'd their bright wings, and thump'd the hollow Grief gladden'd, and forgot to drop a tear

They ended: and all nature soon was chang'd!

O’er diamond-pebbles ran the liquid gold:
At her approach; ne Sorrow mote6 be found,
Ne rueful-looking Drad”, ne pale-ey'd Care;

And side by side the lamb and lion rang'd And 'neath her chariot wheels she crush'd'hell- The flow'ry lawn. The serpent gently rollid black Despair.

His glistering spires, and playful tongue outlolid

To lick the infant-band. Together fed Then Charity full-zon'd, as her beseems, The wolf and kid, together souglit a fold. Her breasts were softer ivory, her hair

The roses blush'd with more celestial red; Play'd with the sunny rays in amber streams, Hell groan'd through all her dens; and grim Death And Aoated wanton on the buxom air;

dropp'd down dead. As Mercy kind, as Hope divinely fair,

Whilom s these scenes the tuneful Twick’nham Her soul was flame, and with prolific rays

swain, The nations warm'd, all-bright withouten glare. Both men and angels, as she passes, gaze, (praise. Then cease, O cease, the antiquated strain;

With Esay's heav'nly pencil taught to glow: But chief the poor, the lame, the blind, the naked, Nor marr6'his song: but reverently go,

The train of Virtues next, a dainty train! And in the temple of his Muses bow.Advance their steps, sweet daughters of delight, Delight and wonder broke the shepherd's dream; Awfully sweet, majestically plain!

Faded the scenes: and, in a goodly row, Celestial Love, as e'yn of seraphs bright,

Rush'd on his eyes the Muses well-lov'd theme, And spotless as their robes of new-spun light. Fair Rhedicyna's tow'rs, and Isis' sacred streanı! Truth, simple as the love-sick village-maid; Health-blooming Temperance, a comely wight 8: Humility, in homely weeds array'd, Aud by her, in a line, an asses-colt she led.

THE BOWER.

Blow, blow, thou summer-breeze, But hark, the jolly pipe, and rural lay!

O gently fan the trees, And see, the shepherd clad in mantle blue,

That form yon fragrant bow'r:
And shepherdess in russet kirtle gay,

Where Sylvia, loveliest maid !
Come dauncing on the shepherd-lord to view, On Nature's carpet laid,
And pay, in decent wise, obeysance due.

Enjoys the ev'uing hour. I Stained or adorned. Tight or must. 9 Unknown, unlook'd for. " Appearance. 3 Gentle or handsome.

4 "ithout equal,

* Commonly painted black; but a vulgar errour. S Hastens. 6 Might.

3 Adorned or made brave, 4 Foretell, ng Fear or terror. 8 Person,

5 Formerly, sometime ago.

2

• Spoil.

Hence, hence, ye objects foul,

If such the rapt'rous moments prove, The beetle, bat, and owl,

O let me give my heart to love!
The hagworm, neute, and toad;
But fairy-elves, unseen,

The business of my future days,
May gambol o'er the green,

My every thought, my every pray'r, And circle her abode.

Shall be employ'd to sing her praise,

Or sent to bounteous Heav'n for her. Breathe, breathe thy incense, May;

If such the rapt'rous moments prove, Ye flow'rs, your homage pay,

O let me give my heart to love.
To one more fair and sweet:
Ye op'ning rose-buds, shade,

Poets shall wonder at my love,
With fragrant twine, her head,

Painters shall crowd her face to see, Ye lilies, kiss her feet.

And when they wou'd the passions move,

Shall copy her, and think of me. Shed, shed thy sweetest beams,

If such the rapt'rous moments prove, In particolour'd streams,

O let me give my heart to love.
Thou fount of heat and light!
No, no, withdraw thy ray,

Old age shall burn as bright as youth, Her eyes effuse a day,

No respite to our bliss be given:
As mild, as warm, as bright.

Then mingled in one flame of truth,

We'll spurn at Earth and soar to Heav'n. Flow, flow, thou crystal-rill,

Since such the rapt'rous moments prove, With tinkling gurgles fill

We both will give our hearts to love. The mazes of the grove: And if thy murmuring stream Javite my love to dream,

O may she dream of love! Sing, sing ye feather'd quires, And melt to soft desires

LOVER'S NIGHT. Her too obdurate breast: Then, in that tender hour,

LULL'D in the arms of him she lovid ru steal into her bow'r,

Ianthe sigh'd the kindest things:
And teach her to be blest.

Her fond surrender be approv'd
With smiles; and thus, enamour'd, sings.

THE

“ How sweet are lover's vows by night,
Lapp'd in a honey-suckle grove!
When Venus sheds her gentle light,
And soothes the yielding soul to love.

THE LOVER.
Since Stella's charms, divinely fair,
First pour'd their lustre on my heart,
Ten thousand pangs my bosom tear,
And every fibre feels the smart.
If such the mournful moments prove,
O who wou'd give his heart to love!

“ Soft as the silent-footed Dews
That steal upon the starlight-hours;
Warm as a love-sick poet's Muse;
And fragrant as the breath of Aow'rs.

“ To hear our vows the Moon grows pale,
And pants Endymion's warmth to prove:
While, emulous, the nightingale,
Thick-warbling trills ber lay of love.

“ The silver-sounding shining spheres,
That animate the glowing skies,
Nor charm so much, as thou, my ears,
Nor bless so much, as thou, my eyes.

I meet my bosom-friends with pain,
Tha' friendship us’d to warm my soul ;
Wine's generous spirit flames in vain,
I find no cordial in the bowl.
If such the mournful moments prove,
O who wou'd give his heart to love!
Tho' Nature's volume open lies,
Which once with wonder I have read,
No glories tremble from the skies,
No beauties o'er the Earth are spread.
If such the mournful moments prove,
O who wou'd give his heart to love!
Er'n Poetry's ambrosial dews
With joy no longer feed my mind,
To Beauty, Music and the Muse,
My soul is dumb and deaf and blind.
Tho' sach the mournful moments prove,
Alas! I give my heart to love.
But should the yielding virgin smile,
Drest in the spotless marriage-robe,
I'd look upon this world as vile,
The master of a richer globe,

“ Thus let me clasp thee to my heart,
Thus sink in softness on thy breast !
No cares shall haunt us; danger, part,
For ever loving, ever blest,

Censorious Envy dares not blame
The passion which thy truth inspires:
Ye Stars, bear witness, that my flame
Is chaste as your eternal tires."

Love saw them (hid among the boughs)
And heard him sing their mutual bliss:
“ Enjoy,” cry'd be, “ Janthe's vows;
But, oh! I envy thee her kiss,"

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