He, with a hundred Arts refin'd,

Shall ftretch thy conquefts over half the kind: To him each Rival fhall fubmit,

Make but his Riches equal to his Wit. Then fhall thy Form the Marble grace,

(Thy Grecian Form) and Chloe lend the Face: His Houfe, embofom'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 fmiling Loves, and young Defires; There, ev'ry Grace and Muse shall throng, Exalt the dance, or animate the fong; There Youths and Nymphs, in confort gay, Shall hail the rifing, close the parting day.

With me, alas! thofe joys are o'er ;

For me the vernal garlands bloom no more, Adieu; fond hope of mutual fire,

The ftill-believing, ftill renew'd defire;

Namque et nobilis, et decens,

Et pro folicitis non tacitus reis,

Et centum puer artium,

Late figna feret militiae tuae..

Et, quandoque potentior

Largis muneribus riferit aemuli,

Albanos prope te lacus

Ponet marmoream fub trabe citrea

Illic plurima naribus

Duces thura; lyraque et Berecynthiae

Delectabere tibia

Mixtis carminibus, non fine fiftula.

Illic bis pueri die

Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum Laudantes, pede candido

In morem Salium ter quatient humum.

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 nonfenfe, at one glance of thee? Thee, preft in Fancy's airy beam,

Abfent I follow thro' th' extended Dream; Now, now I cease, I clasp thy charms,

And now you burft (ah cruel!) from my arms;

And swiftly shoot along the Mall,

Or foftly glide by the Canal,

Now shown by Cynthia's filver ray,

And now, on rolling waters fnatch'd away.

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 lacrymo 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.

Part of the NINTH ODE of

LEST

the FOURTH BOOK.

A FRAGMENT.

EST you fhould think that verfe fhall die,
Which founds the Silver Thames along,

Taught on the wings of Truth to fly.

Above the reach of vulgar song :

Tho' daring Milton fits fublime,
In Spenfer native Mufes play;
Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
Nor penfive Cowley's moral lay-

Sages and Chiefs long fince had birth
Ere Cæfar was, or Newton nam'd;
These rais'd new Empires o'er the Earth,

And Thofe, new Heav'ns and Syftems fram'd.

N E forte credas Interitura, quae

Longe fonantem natus ad Aufidum Non ante vulgatas per artes

Verba loquor focianda chordis:

Non, fi priores Maeonius tenet
Sedes Homerus, Pindaricae latent
Ceacque, et Alcaei minaces
Stefichorique graves Camenae:

Nec, fi quid olim lufit Anacreon,
Delevit aetas: fpirat adhuc amor,
Vivuntque commiffi calores
Acoliac fidibus puellae.

Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's pride!
They had no Poet, and they died.
In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled!
They had no Poet, and are dead.

Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi; fed omnes illacrymabiles
Urguentur ignotique longa
Nocte, carent quia vate facro.