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Plausus ovantum sint aliis Virâm Quæsita merces: sat tibi gloriæ, Te urgente, Vates invidende, Virgineos maduisse vultus.

WINTER;

A TRANSLATION OF ODE BRUMALIS.

By the Reverend Mr. Tattersal, late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.

ALAS! no longer now appear
The softer seasons of the year.

Of Sports and Loves what Muse now sings?
Away, my lyre;-boy, break the strings.

Old joyless Winter, who disdains
Your sprightly, flow'ry, attic strains,
Wrapt into sable calls for airs
Rough, rueful, as the rug he wears,

Pleasure, for ever on the wing,

Wild, wanton, restless, fluttering thing,
Airy springs by with sudden speed,
Swifter than Maro's flying steed.

Ab! where is hid the sylvan scene,
The leafy shade, the vernal green?
In Flora's meads the sweets that grew,
Colours which Nature's pencil drew,
Chaplets, the bust of Pope might wear,
Worthy to bloom around Ianthe's hair?

Gay-mantled Spring away is flown,
The silver-tressed Summer's gone,
And golden Autumn; nought remains
But Winter with his iron chains.

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What thunder bursts!-it made me start-
Thunder beyond the reach of art!
The claps! I heard 'em,-how they roll!
The lovely terrour shakes my soul:
Who talks of fiends!-of gaping graves!-
Othello! 't is Othello raves!

What tenderness!-what fierce disdain

Whirls, boils, and foams through ev'ry vein!
He swears!-invokes Hell, Earth, air, skies!
See where the glorious madman flies!
He groans, he trembles,-falls,--the hero dies!

Shakspeare, excessive joys like these (I almost said) are cruelties:

Whirlwinds of pleasure tear the panting breast, And the mind aches, too exquisitely blest.

Chang'd is the scene:-methinks I rove
In some enchanted cypress grove.
Soft Otway calls!-who can refuse
The plaintive voice of Otway's Muse?
We'll go, my fair Ianthe, we will go,
Tho' your fond love-inspiring eyes o'erflow
Like bubbling springs, more beautiful in woe.

Sweet is the sympathy of woe;
Have I not seen (nay felt 'em too)
Down stealing Tears, big, silent, slow,
Speak a soft language as they flow,
Daughters of tender Grief, express
Charming Monimia's deep distress!

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Audite, Cœli! num modulaminis Tales triumphos aula refert Jovis Stellata? Sphærarumve tales Lucidus & numerosus ordo?

O lene murmur! cum Venus aurea Inire somnos, strata rosis, parat, Melosque poscit; talis aura

Idalias tremit inter umbras.

Quæ flamma venis pasta! potentibus
Succumbo victus blanditiis lyræ:
Succumbo victus voce, vultu,

Crine nigro, niveoque collo,

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

Metcafii medicos, sodales!

Frustrà: nec unquàm Metcafii manus Extinguet ignes, docta licèt, meos; Nec flumen, ah! vestri benignis Ingenii recreabit undis.

SPRING;

A TRANSLATION OF ODE VERNALIS.

By the Reverend Mr. Tattersal, late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.

CARE flies the raptures of the bowl,

"T is jolly Bacchus fills my soul;

I feel within the genial fire,

And from yon nyrtle snatch my golden lyre.

To thee the jocund Muse I send, With sprightly lay to greet my friend: For all things now around look gay, Why mayn't I laugh, as well as they? The fair, the young, my hours beguile, And Cytherea ever wears a smile,

Creative goddess of the Spring! No more of Winter's storms I sing, See May in wanton joy appear

Spread his gay wings, and fan the buxom Year.

My friend (indulge the tender name)
My friend, near Isis' sacred stream,
With whom so oft I us'd to rove
Careless, in garden, mead, or grove;
A glass, a song:-thus you and I
Have bid the golden minutes fly,
Seen many a Suu, with sloping ray,
Ling'ring retire, and blest the falling day.

O tell me what soft triumphs now
Wreath blooming garlands round thy brow;
What nymph, for winning beauty known,
Giving you joy, completes her own;
Whether the Graces, or the Nine
Divide thy hours, for both are thine?

'Tis merry May, swains, greet the Graces' shrine.

To frolic on the tufted grass, To view clear waters as they pass,

To mark the shining shivering gleam
That darts, and dances on the stream,
To court the Muse, toy with the fair,
(Pleasures like these, O! may I ever share).

The season bids: a friend or two,
Ingenious, affable, like you;
Happy at sudden repartees,

Whose answers bite, yet biting please,
To kindle mirth: and let me join

Bacchus, the purple sovereign of the vine.

May god-like Handel now inspire The tuneful pow'rs and fill the choir: Janthe, charming as she sings,

Wake with a nimble touch th' harmonious strings.

Listen, ye Heavens, to strains, above
Whate'er the starry court of Jove,
Lost in melodious raptures, hears
Amid the silver-sounding spheres ;
Where orbs on orbs in concert roll,

And music trembles round from pole to pole.

O melting sound! when sleep unseen Just steals upon the Cyprian queen, Indulging in th' Idalian shade,

Stretcht on a couch, of roses made,

The lute soft-warbling, such the air

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High-smiling in delight a lady sate,

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 flames that feed within my breast!

I faint, I die, with charms opprest;
Her voice, her face, her sweet spinnet,
The neck of iv'ry, and the hair of jet.

So languishes, and fades away
The flow'r beneath the blaze of day;
Quick, my companions, quick apply
Some cooling, sovereign remedy:
Metcalf, to sooth a burning pain,

By Pæan taught, may try, but try in vain.

Not Metcalf's' skill, tho' known to fame, Can slake the fury of my flame, Not all his juices quench; nor yet, Dear friend, the flow of your engaging wit.

THE NATIVITY.

A COLLEGE EXERCISE. 1736.

TWAS morn! the fields were sprinkled o'er with light,

The folds unpent sent out their flocks to feed:
A shepherd boy, (young Thomalin he hight,')
With flying fingers deftly tun'd his reed;
Where ancient Isis laves the Muses' mead,
(For ever smile the mead and flow the stream!)
He sung the birth of David's holy seed:
Tho' low his voice, full lofty was his theme;
Wightly his senses all were rapt into a dream.
Eftsoons he spy'd a grove, the Season's pride,
All in the centre of a pleasant glade,
Where Nature flourish'd like a virgin-bride;
Mantled with green, with hyacinths inlay'd,
And crystal-rills o'er beds of lilies stray'd;

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The virgin-virtues wait on her alone!
Her sapphire-eyes with gentle spirit shone:
Fair bounty head was open'd in her face,

Of honour and of love the paragon7!

A sweet regard and most auspicious grace Bespoke her lineage high: she was of David's race.

Upon her lap a lovely infant lay, And ken'd the mother by her smiling grace. His looks were radiant as the bloom of day, And angel-sweetness purpled in his face. Oh! how the mother did the babe embrace With tender blandishment and fondling care! She gaz'd, and gaz'd, ne8 could enough caress His cheeks, as roses red, as lilies fair, [heir! The holy Day-spring hight, Heav'n's everlasting

Near him a goodly pers'nage mildly shone, With looks of love, and shedding peace and joy: Her looks were love, soft streaming from the throne Of Grace, and sweetly melted on the boy: Her tongue dropp'd honey, which wou'd never cloy. Mercy yclep'd 9. All Nature on her hung, To drink her manna and her smiles enjoy; Young laughing angels "Mercy, mercy," sung; Heav'n echo'd " Mercy" back, the spheres with Mercy" rung.

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Thus if the clouds, enroll'd with deadly food, Forget to thunder in the ethereal tow'rs, But silently dissolve in kindly mood, In fostering dews, and balm, and honey-show'rs; Laugh all the fields for joy and all the bow'rs. The shrubs and herbs fresh odours round them fling, Pop up their smiling heads, the little flow'rs, Warble the birds, exulting on the wing, And all the wild-wood notes the genial ble sings

4 Humility. 61 think. 8 Nor.

[sing.

5 Formerly, sometime since.

7 The pattern or model.

9 Called or named.

High o'er his head was held a starry crown, Emblem of royalty and princely might: His priesthood was by golden mitre shown; An eagle young, with e'yn most piercing-bright, To prove the prophet drank the distant light. But strangest was to see a bloody hand Uprear a cross, the cross with blood bedight': Ten thousand angels, flutt'ring in a band, Admir'd the mystic sign but cou'd not understand.

Now dulcet symphonies, and voices meet, Mellifluous stole upon the shepherd's ear, Which swell'd so high and dy'd away so sweet, As might have charm'd a seraph from his sphere. Happy the swain that mote2 such music hear! Eftsoons a joyous fellowship was seen Of ladies gent 3, and beauties without peer4, As they a train of goddesses had been, In manner of a mask, radiant along the green. Faith led the van, her mantle dipt in blue, Steady her ken, and gaining on the skies; Obedient miracles around her flew: She pray'd, and Heav'n burst open on her eyes, And golden valves roll'd back in wond'rous wise: And now some hill, with all its shaggy load Of trees and flocks, unto the ocean hies5: Now wings of cherubs, flaming all abroad,

Careering on the winds in sight upbear their god.

Next Hope, the gayest daughter of the sky! Her nectar-dewed locks with roses bound; An Eden flourish'd where she cast her eye, And flocks of Sports and Joys, their temples crown'd, [ground. Plum'd their bright wings, and thump'd the hollow Grief gladden'd, and forgot to drop a tear At her approach; ne Sorrow mote6 be found, Ne rueful-looking Drad7, ne pale-ey'd Care; And 'neath her chariot wheels she crush'd'hellblack Despair.

Then Charity full-zon'd, as her beseems, Her breasts were softer ivory, her hair Play'd with the sunny rays in amber streams, And floated wanton on the buxom air; As Mercy kind, as Hope divinely fair. Her soul was flame, and with prolific rays The nations warm'd, all-bright withouten glare. Both men and angels, as she passes, gaze, [praise. But chief the poor, the lame, the blind, the naked,

The train of Virtues next, a dainty train! Advance their steps, sweet daughters of delight, Awfully sweet, majestically plain! Celestial Love, as e'yn of seraphs bright, And spotless as their robes of new-spun light. Truth, simple as the love-sick village-maid; Health-blooming Temperance, a comely wight": Humility, in homely weeds array'd,

And by her, in a line, an asses-colt she led.

But hark, the jolly pipe, and rural lay!
And see, the shepherd clad in mantle blue,
And shepherdess in russet kirtle gay,
Come dauncing on the shepherd-lord to view,
And pay, in decent wise, obeysance due.

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Sweet-smelling flow'rs the gentle votaries bring,
Primroses, violets, wet with morning-dew,
The sweetest incense of the early spring;
A humble, yet, I weet, a grateful offering.

Jocund to lead the way, with sparkling rays,
Danc'd a star-errant up the orient sky;
The new-born splendour streaming o'er the place,
Where Jesus lay in bright humility,
Seem'd a fixt star unto the wond'ring eye:
Three seers unwist 9 the captain-glory led,
Of awful semblance', but of sable die2.
Full royally along the lawn they tread,
And each with circling gold embraved3 had his

[head.

Low, very low on bended knee they greet The virgin-mother, and the son adore, The son of love! and kiss his blessed feet; Then ope the vases and present their store, Gold, frankincense and myrrh; what cou'd they For gold and myrrh a dying king divine 4; [more! The frankincense, from Arab's spicy shore, Confess'd the God; for God did in him shine: Myrrh, frankincense and gold, God-man, were meetly thine.

And last, triumphant on a purple cloud, Fleecy with gold, a band of angels ride: They boldly sweep their lyres, and, hymning loud, The richest notes of harmony divide; Scarce Thomalin the rapture cou'd abide: And ever and anon the babe they eye, And through the fleshly veil the God descry'd, Shrill hallelujahs tremble up the sky: [reply. "Good-willand peace to man," the choirs in Heav'n

They ended: and all nature soon was chang'd! O'er diamond-pebbles ran the liquid gold: And side by side the lamb and lion rang'd The flow'ry lawn. The serpent gently roll'd His glistering spires, and playful tongue outloll'd To lick the infant-hand. Together fed The wolf and kid, together sought a fold. The roses blush'd with more celestial red; Hell groan'd through all her dens; and grim Death dropp'd down dead.

Whilom 5 these scenes the tuneful Twick'nham

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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!

I meet my bosom-friends with pain,
Tho' 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' such 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.

If such the rapt'rous moments prove,
O let me give my heart to love!

The business of my future days,
My every thought, my every pray'r,
Shall be employ'd to sing her praise,
Or sent to bounteous Heav'n for her.
If such the rapt'rous moments prove,
O let me give my heart to love.

Poets shall wonder at my love,
Painters shall crowd her face to see,
And when they wou'd the passions move,
Shall copy her, and think of me.
If such the rapt'rous moments prove,
O let me give my heart to love.

Old age shall burn as bright as youth,
No respite to our bliss be given:
Then mingled in one flame of truth,
We'll spurn at Earth and soar to Heav'n.
Since such the rapt'rous moments prove,
We both will give our hearts to love.

THE

LOVER'S NIGHT.

LULL'D in the arms of him she lov'd lanthe sigh'd the kindest things: Her fond surrender he approv'd

With smiles; and thus, enamour'd, sings.

"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.

"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 flow'rs.

"To hear our vows the Moon grows pale,
And pants Endymion's warmth to prove:
While, emulous, the nightingale,
Thick-warbling trills her 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.

"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 fires."

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

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