LIBER IV.. ODE 1. AD VENERE M. INTERMISSA, Venus, diu Rurfus bella moves? parce precor, precor. Non fum qualis eram bonae Sub regno Cynarae. define, dulcium Mater faeva Cupidinum, Circa luftra decem flectere mollibus Jam durum imperiis: abi Quo blandae juventum te revocant preces. Tempeftivius in domum Paulli, purpureis ales oloribus, Comiffabere Maximi; Si torrere jecur quaeris idoneum. Namque et nobilis, et decens, Et pro folicitis non tacitus reis, воок A ODE 1. TO VENU S. IV *. 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 soft alarms, Nor circle fober Fifty with thy Charms. Mother too fierce of dear Defires! Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires. your Doves, To Number five direct There spread round MURRAY all your bloom. ing Loves; Noble and young, who strikes the heart To charm the Mistress, or to fix the Friend. NOTES. This, and the unfinished imitation of the ninth Ode of the fourth Book which follows, fhew as happy a vein for managing the Odes of Horace as the Epiftles. Et centum puer artium, Late figna feret militiae tuae. Et, quandoque potentior Largis muneribus riferit aemuli, Albanos 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. Me nec femina, nec puer Jam, nec fpes animi credula mutui, Nec certare juvat mero, Nec vincire novis tempora floribus. He, with a hundred Arts refin'd, Shall stretch thy conquests 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 Grecian 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 visionary scene : Thither, the filver-founding lyres Shall call the smiling 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 still-believing, ftill-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? 、 |