Ah, teach me, heav'n, fome language to perfuade,
Some other vows to bind the faithless maid;
O love ail-eloquent, you only know
To touch the foul with elegies of woe!
If treach'ry fail, by force I urge my right,
Sheath'd in rough armour, formidably bright:
So Paris fnatch'd his Spartan bride away,
A half denying, half confenting prey;
I too refolvewhate'er the dangers be,
For death is nothing when compar'd to thee,
Were you lefs fair, I then might guiltless prove,
And moderate the fury of my love.

But ah! thofe charms for ever must inspire,
Each look, each motion fets my foul on fire.
Heavn's with what pleasing ecftafies of pain
Trembling i gaze, and watch thy glance in vain.
How can I praife thofe golden curls that deck
Each glowing cheek, or wave around thy neck:
Thy fwelling arms, and forehead rifing fair,
Thy modeft fweetness, and attractive air;
Adjoin to these a negligence of grace,

A winning accent, and enchanting face.
Dear matchiefs charms! I ceafe to name the rest,
Nor wonder thou that love inflames my breast.

Since all alike to Hymen's altars bend,

Ah, blefs at once the lover, and the friend!
Let envy rage, and int'reft difapprove,
Envy and int'reft muft fubmit to love.
By pray'rs and vows Hefione was won
To Thare the joys of hollile Telamon.
Soft gen'rous pity touch'd the captive dame
Who warm'd Achilles with a lover's flame.
To blefs the wretched, fhows a foul divine-
Be ever angry-but be ever mine.
Yet can no pray'rs thy firm refentment move?
Wretch that I was fo ill to fix my love!
See, at thy feet defpairing wild I roul,
Grief fwells my heart, and anguifh racks my foul,
There fix my doom; relentlefs to my fighs,
And lifted hands, and fupplicating eyes.
Then wilt thou fay (for pity fure must move
A virgin's breaft) how patient is his love!
"Ev'u my heart trembles, as his tears I fee;
"The youth who ferves fo well, is worthy me."
Still must I then in fad diftruction moan?
My caufe unheeded, and my grief unknown.
Ah, noAcontius cannot write in vain;
Sure ev'ry wretch has licenfe to complain!
But if you triumph in a lover's woe,
Remember till Diana is your foe!
Diana liften'd to the vows you made,
And trembled at the change her eyes furvey'd.
Ah, think, repent, while yet the time is giv'n,
Fierce is the vengeance of neglected heav'n!
By Dian's hand the Phrygian matron fell,
Sent with her race, an early fhade to hell.
Chang'd to a fag, Acteon pour'd away,
In the fame morn the chafer and the prey.
Alth a rag'd with more than female hate,
And huri'd into the flames the brand of fate.
Like thefe offenfive, punifh'd too like these
Heav'n blas thy joy's, and he 'ghtens the difcafe.
Nor think Cydippe (as my fears forefce)
A thought anworthy of thyfelf, or me!
Think not I trade this feemin truth, to prove
Thy fern dudain, a pious fraud in love;

Rather than fo, I yet abjure thy charms,
And yield thee fcornful, to another's arms!
Alas, for this pale fickness haunts thy bed,
And shooting aches feem to tear thy head;
A fudden vengeance waits thy guilty loves;
Abfent is Hymen, Dian difapproves.
Think then, repent-recall the parting breath
O'er thy lips hov'ring in the hour of death.
See, on thy checks the fading purple dies,
And fhades of darkness fettle on thy eyes.
But whence, ye pow'rs, or wherefore rofe thre
Still muft I mourn in abfence, or defpair; [pray'?'
Forc'd, if the dies, the promise to refign
Ev'n if the lives, I must not call her mine!

Like fome pale ghost around thy houfe I,
Now burn in rage, and now relent with love;
A thousand needlefs meffages I make,
A thousand mournful fpeeches give, and take.
O that my skill the fov'reign virtues h
Of ev'ry herb that drinks the early der,
Then might I hear thy moans, thy fiche,
Nor were it fure a crime to gaze on the
Perhaps ev'n now, (as f ar forefees too will
The wretch I curfe, deteft, avoid like bell,
Befide thee breathes a love-dejected figh,
And marks the filent glances of thy eye.
Some faint excufe he raises,, to detain
Thy fwelling arm, and prefs the beating veit:
Now o'er thy neck his glowing fingers rove,
Too great a pleasure for fo mean a love!
Villain beware! the facred nymph refign
Avoid, deteft her, dread whate'er is mine;
Elsewhere a lover's preference I give,
But ceafe to rival here, or ceafe to live.
The vows you claim by right of human laws,
At best but serve to vindicate my cause.
To thee alone by duty is fhe kind;
Can parents alienate a daughter's mind?
Firft weigh the crime, the vengeange next epi
The father promis'd, but the daughter fwort
That merely vain on human faith relies;
But this obtefts the fanction of the fkies.

Here cease my woes ah, whither r A woman's triumph, and a rival's fcorn? = Vain are my vows, unheeded is my pray', The featt'ring winds have loft 'em all in ar Yet think Cydippe, e'er thy lover dies! Banish that wretch for ever from thy eyes; Scorn, envy, cenfures are conferr'd on me, And pain, and death is all he brings to thee Gods! may fome vengeance crimes like the And fnatch his life, to mediate for thy own

Nor think to please avenging Cynthia's co With ftreams of blood in holy facrifice: Heav'n claims the real, not the formal part, A troubled fpirit, and repenting heart. For cafe, and health the patient oft requires The piercing fleel, and burns alive in fires; Not fo with you-ah, but confirm the vou One look; one promife can reflore thee now; Again thy fmiles eternal joys beflow, And thy eyes fparkle, and thy blushes glow.

Suppofe from me for ever you remove, Once must you fall a facrifice to love; And then, ah, then will angry Cynthia cole Thy wakeful eyes, or cafe a matron's throes' Yet wilt thou ever find a caufe for fhame? No fure a mother cannot, must not bar.

Tell her the vow, the place, the facred day
I gaz'd on thee, and gaz'd my heart away:
Then will fhe furely fay (if e'er she knew
But half that tender love I feel for you)
"Ah, think Cydippe, and his confort be;
"The youth who pleas'd Diana, pleases me!
Yet if fhe afks (as women oft require)
Tell her my life, my nation, and my fire:
Not void of youthfnl vanities I came,
Nor yet inglorious in the world of fame;
From ancient race I drew my gen'rous blood,
Where Cea's ifle o'erlooks the watery flood:
Add, that I study ev'ry art to please,
Bleft in my genius, born lo live at eafe.
Wit, merit, learning cannot fail to move,
And all thofe dearer bleffings loft in love!
Ah! had you never fworn, 'twere hard to choose
A love like mine and will you now refuse?

In midnight dreams when wakeful fancy keeps
Its deareft thoughts, and ev'n in flumber weeps,
Diana's felf thele mournful ftrains infpir'd,
And Cupid when I wak'd, my genius fir'd.
Methinks, ev'n now, his piercing arrows move
My tender breast, and spread the pains of love.
Like me beware, unhappy as thou art!
Direct at thee Diana aims her dart

To drink the blood that feeds thy faithless heart.
The loves thou never can't enjoy, refign;
Nor rafhly lose another life with thine,
Then will we, eager as our joys, remove
To Dian's fhrine, the patronefs of love!
High o'er her head in triumph fhall be plac'd
The golden fruit, with this infcription grac'd;
"Ye hapless lovers, hence, for ever know
"Acontius gain'd the nymph who caus'd his woe!"
Here ceafe my hand-I tremble, left each line
Should wound a foul fo griev'd, fo touch'd as thine.
No more my thoughts th' ungrateful toil purfue;
Pleasure farewell, and thou, my dear, adieu!

thence he expatiates in the praife of poetry; and inveighs very feverely upon those who either contemn, or have no tafte for that divine fcience. Their misfortunes and punishments are inftanced by thofe of Typhoeus: whom the poets immagine to be imprisoned by Jupiter under mount Etna. The digreffions in this Ode are the most inartificial and surprising of any in the whole author. We are once more in the hero's native country; every thing opens agreeably to the eye, and the poem proceeds af ter Pindar's ufual manner.

STROPHE I.
GENTLE lyre, begin the ftrain;
Wake the ftring to voice again.

Verfe, gentle verfe from heav'n defcending came,
Curft by the wicked, hateful to the vain:
Tyrants and flaves profane its facred name,
Deaf to the tender lay, or vocal strain.---
In fires of hell Typhoeus glows,
Imprifon'd by the wrath of Jove;
No eafe his reftlefs fury knows,
Nor founds of joy, nor pleafing love,
Where, glitt'ring faintly on the eye,
Sicilian Etna props the sky

With mountains of eternal fnow;
He darts his fiery eyes in vain,

And heaves, and roars, and bites his chain
In impotence of woe.

STROPHE II.

Angry flames like fcarlet glowing
Fiery torrents ever flowing,
Smoke along the with'ring plain
Ere they rush into the main.
When the fable veil of night
Stretches o'er the fhaded fky,
Fires of fulphur gleam with light,
Burning rocks difparted fly.

Sudden, by turns the flashing flames arife,
Pour down the winds, or tremble up the skies.
ANTISTROPHE II.

In fair Sicilia's rich domain,
Where flow'rs and fruits eternal blow,
Where plenty fpreads her peaceful reign,
And feas furround, and fountains flow,
Bright religion lifts her eye,
Wand'ring through the kindred-ky.
Hail thou, everlasting Jove,
Parent of th' Aonian quire;
Touch my raptur'd foul with love,
Warm we with celeftial fire!
EPODE II.

The pious mariner when firft he sweeps
The foaming billows, and exalts his fails,
Propitiates ev'ry pow'r that rules the deeps,
Led by new hopes, and borne by gentle gales.
So e'er the mufe difus'd to fing,
Emblazons her fair hero's praife:
(What time the wakes the trembling string,
Attemper'd to the vocal lays;
Protrate in humble guite the bends,
While fome celestial pow'r defcends

To guide her airy flights along; God of the filver bow, give ear; (Whom Tenedos, and Chryfa fear) Obfervant of the fong!

L

STROPE III.
Gentle wishes, chafte defires,
Holy Hymen's purer fires:
Lives of innocence and pleafure,
Moral virtue's myftic treafure;
Wisdom, eloquence, and love,
All are bleflings from above.
Hence regret, diftafte, difpraife,
Guilty nights, uneafy days:

Repining jealoufies, calm friendly wrongs,
And fiercer envy, and the strife of tongues.
ANTISTROPHE III.

When virtue bleeds beneath the laws,
Or ardent nations rife in arms,
Thy mercies judge the doubtful caufe,
Thy courage cv'ry beat alarms.
Kindling with heroic fire
Once again I fweep the lyre.
Fair as fummer's evening fkies,
Ends thy life ferene, and glorious;
Happy hero, great and wife,
O'er thy foes, and felf victorious.

THE EPISODE OF ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE,

Tranflated from the fourth Georgic of Virgil.

At chorus æqualis Dryadum

[fore.

HER fudden death the Mountain-Dryads mourn'd,
And Rhodope's high brow the dirge return'd:
Bleak Orythya trembled at their woe,
And filver Hebrus murmur'd in his flow.
While to his mournful harp, unfeen, alone,
Despairing Orpheus warbled out his moan.
With roty dawn his plaintive lays begun,
His plaintive voice fung down the fetting fun.
Now in the frantic bitterness of woe
Silent he treads the dreary realms below,
His lofs in tender numbers to deplore,
And touch the fouls who ne'er were touch'd be-
Mov'd with the pleafing harmony of fong,
The fhadowy fpectres 'round the poet throng:
Num'rous as birds that o'er the foreft play,
(When evening Phoebus rouls the light away:
Or when high Jove in wintery feafons pours
A fudden deluge from defcending show'rs.)
The mother's ghoft, the father's rev'rend fhade,
The blooming hero, and th' unmarry'd maid:
The new-born heir who foon lamented dies,
And feeds the flames before his parent's eyes;
All whom Cocytus' fable water bounds,
And Styx with thrice three wand'ring ftreams fur-
rounds.

See, the dread regions tremble and admire!
Ev'n Pain unmov'd ftands heark'ning to the lyre.
Intent, Ixion ftares, nor feems to feel
The rapid motions of the whirling wheel.
Th' unfolding fnakes around the furies play,
As the pale fifters liften to the lay.

Nor was the poet's moving fuit deny'd, Again to realms above he bears his bride.

When (ftern decree!) he turns his longing cys
'Tis done, fae's loft, for ever ever dies--
Too inall the fault, too latting was the pain,
Could love but judge, or hell relent again!
Amaz'd he stands, and by the glimpie of day
Juft fees th' unbedy'd shadow flit away
When thus the cry'd---ah, too unthoughtful spoufe
Thus for one look to violate thy vows!
Fate bears me back, again to hell I fly,
Eternal darknels fwims before my eye:
Again the melancholy plains I fee,
Ravish'd from life, from pleasure, and from thee!
She faid, and finking into endie's night,
Like exhalations vanith'd from the light:
In vain he sprung to feize her, wept, or pray'd,
Swift glides away the vifionary fhade.

How wilt thou now, unhappy Orpheus, tell Thy fecond lofs, and melt the pow'rs of hell? Gold are thofe lips that bleft thy foul before, And her fair eyes muft roll on thine no more. Sev'n tedious moons defpairing, wild he food, And told his woes to Strymon's freezing flood. Beneath his feet eternal fnows were fpread, And airy rocks hang nodding o'er his head, The favage beafts in circles round him play, And rapid streams stand lift'ning to the lay.

So when the shepherd-fwain with curious res Marks the fair neft, and makes the young his part: Sad Philomel, in poplar fhades alone, In vain renews her lamentable moan. From night to morn the chaunts her tender lots And mournful mufic dies along the grove.

No thoughts of pleasure now his foul empley, A verfe to Venus and the nuptial joy: Wild as the winds o'er Thracia's plains he rover. O'er the bleak mountains, and the leaflets groves When ftung with rage the Bacchanalian train Rush'd to the bard, and firetch'd him on the plan (Nor founds, nor pray'rs their giddy fory move, And he muft ceafe to live, or learn to love) See, from his fhoulders in a moment flies His bleeding head, and now, ah now he dies! Yet as he dy'd, Eurydice he mourn'd, Eurydice, the trembling banks return'd; Eurydice, with hollow voice he cry'd, Eurydice ran murmuring down the tide.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY

HERTFORD,

UPON THE BIRTH OF LORD BEAUCHAMP ONCE more infpir'd, I touch the trembling thing What mute for Hertford will refuse to fing? Thine are the favourite ftrains, and may they be Sacred to praife, to beauty, and to thee!

Sudden, methinks, in vifion I furvey
The glorious triumphs of th' expected day:
Fair lovely lights in opening fcenes appear,
And airy music trembles on my ear;
Surrounding eyes devour the beauteour boy,
And ev'ry bofom beats with founds of joy.

Rife from thy dumbers, gentie infant, rik Lift thy fair head, unfold thy radiant eyes, Whole lovely light must other courts adern, And wound the hearts of beauties yet unbor Subdue the sex, that triumphs in its pride, And humble thofe, who charm the world befits

Defcend ye gentle nine defcend, and spread Laurels and bays around his infant-head. Bid noble paffions in his bofom roll, And beams of fancy dawn upon his foul; In forten'd mufic bid his accents flow, Piercing, and gentle as defcending fnow; Bid him be all that can his birth commend: The daring patriot, and unfhaken friend : Admir'd, yet humble, modeft, though fevere, Abroad obliging, and, at home fincere ; Good, juft, and affable in each degree: Such is the father, fuch the fon fhall be!

Thefe humble strains, indulgent Hertford, spare; Forgive the mufe, O fairest of the fair! Firft in thy fades (where filver Kennet glides, Fair Marlbro's turrets trembling in his tides: Where peace and plenty hold their gentle reign, And lavish nature decks the fruitful plain : Where the fam'd mountain lifts its walks on high, As varying profpects open on the eye) To love's foft theme I tun'd the warbling lyre, And borrow'd from thy eyes poetic fire.

AROUND the pomp in mourning weeds array'd,
Weeps the pale father, and the trembling maid:
The icreaming infants at the portals ftand,
And clafp, and ftop the flow-proceeding band.
Each parting face a fettled horror wears,

Each low-held fhield receives a flood of tears.
Some with a kifs (fad fign of future harms)
Round the clos'd beaver glue their clasping arms,
Hang on the spear, detain 'em as they go,
With lifted eyes, and eloquence of woe,
Thofe warlike chiefs, whom dread Bellona fteel'd,
And arm'd with fouls unknowing once to yield,
Now touch'd with forrows, hide their tearful eyes,
And all the hero melts away and dies.

So the pale failor, launching from the shore,
Leaves the dear profpects that must charm no more:
Here fhricks of anguith pierce his pitying ears---
There ftrangely wild, a floating world appears---
Swift the fair veffel wings her watery flight,
And in a mift deceives the aching fight:
The native train in fad diftraction weep,
Now beat their breasts, now tremble o'er the deep,
Curfe ev'ry gale that wafts the fleet from land,
Breathe the last figh, and wave the circling hand.
You now, fair ancient truth' conduct along
Th' advent'rous bard, and animate his fong:
Each godlike man in proper lights difplay,
And open all the war in dread array.
You too, bright miftrefs of th' Aonian quire,
Divine Calliope! refume the lyre:

The lives and deaths of mighty chiefs recite,
The wafte of nations, and the rage of fight.
VOL. IX.

A SIMILE,

UPON A SET OF TEA-DRINKERS.

So fairy elves their morning-table spread
O'er a white mushroom's hofpitable head:
In acorn cups the merry goblins quaff
The pearly dews, they fing, they love, they laugh;
Melodious mufic trembles through the sky,
And airy founds along the green-wood die.

THE SAME,

DIVERSIFIED IN ANCIENT METRE.

So, yf deepe clerkes in tymes of yore faine trew,
Or poets eyne, perdie, mought fothly vew,
The dapper Elfins thyr queint feftes bedight
Wyth mickle plefaunce on a mushrome lite:
In acorne cuppes thy quaffen daint liquere,
And rowle belgardes, and deffie daunce yfere;
Ful everidele they makin mufike fote,
And fowns aeriall adowne the grene woode flote.

A SOLILOQUY,

OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASS HOPPER.

HAPPY infect ever bleft
With a more than mortal reft,
Rofy dews the leaves among,
Humble joys and gentle fong!
Wretched poet! ever curs'd,
With a life of lives the worst,
Sad defpondence, restless fears,
Endless jealoufies and tears.

In the burning fummer, thou
Warbleft on the verdant bough,
Meditating cheerful play,
Mindless of the piercing ray;
Scorch'd in Cupid's fervors, I
Ever weep, and ever die.

Proud to gratify thy will, Ready nature waits thee ftill: Balmy wines to thee the pours, Weeping through the dewy flow'rsa Rich as thofe by Hebe giv'n To the thirty fons of heav'n. Yet alas! we both agree, Miferable thou like me! Each alike in youth rehearses Gentle strains, and tender verses; Ever wand'ring far from home; Mindlefs of the days to come, (Such as aged winter brings Trembling on his icy wings). Both alike at last we die; Thou art ftarv'd, and fo am I !

THE STORY OF ARETHUSA.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

Connection to the former

The poet defcribes Ceres wandering over the world in great affliction, to fearch after her

3 G

daughter Proferpina, who was then loft. At laft Arethusa (a river of Sicily) informs the goddess that her daughter was stolen away by Pluto, and carried down into hell. Now it was ordained by fate, that Proferpine fhould return again, if she tafted not of any fruit in the other world. But temptations were strong, and the woman could not refift eating fix or feven kernels of a pomegranate. However, to mitigate the fentence, Jupiter decreed that she should refide but half the year with Pluto, and pass the reft with her mother. Upon thefe terms Ceres is very well pacified, and in complaifance defires Arethufa to relate her life, and for what reafons he was changed into a river. Husa'D in fufpenfe the gath'ring waters ftood, When thus began the parent of the flood: What time emerging from the wave, fhe preft Her verdant treffes drooping on her breast.

Of all the nymphs Achaia boafts (the faid),
Was Arethula once the fairest maid.
None lov'd fo well, to fpread in early dawn
The trembling meshes o'er the dewy lawn:
Though drets and beauty fcarce deferv'd my care,
Yet ev'ry tongue confefs'd me to be fair.

The charms which others ftrive for, I refign,
And think it ev'n a crime to find them mine!
It chanc'd one morn, returning from the wood
Weary I wander'd by a filver flood:

The gentle waters scarce were seen to glide,
And a calm filence ftili d the flee ping tide;
High o'er the banks a grove of watery trees
Spread its dark fhade, that trembled to the breeze
(My veft fufpended on the boughs) I lave
My chilly feet, then plunge beneath the wave;
A ruddy light my blushing limbs difpread,
And the clear itream half glows with rofy-red.
When from beneath in awiul murmurs broke
A hollow voice, and thus portentous fpoke:
My lovely nymph, my Arethufa itay,
"Alpheus calls; it faid, or feem'd to fay".

Naked and twift I flew (my clothes behind), Fear ftrung my nerves, and shame enrag'd my mind. So wing'd with hunger the fierce eagle flies, To drive the trembling turtles through the skies. So wing'd with fear the trembling turtles fpring, When the fierce eagle fhoots upon the wing.

Swift bounding from the god, I now furvey
Where breezy I fophis and Cyllene lay:
Elis' fair ftructure open'd on my eyes;
And waving Erymanthus cools the fkies,
At length unequal for the rapid chafe
Tremt le my limbs, the god maintains the race:
O'er hills and viles with furious hafte 1 flew;
O'er hills and vales the god behind me drew.
Now hov'ring o'er, his lengthening fhadow bends,
(His length'ning fhadow the low iun extends)
And fudden now, his founding steps drew near;
At least I feem'd his founding fteps to hear.
Now finking, in fhort fobs I gafp'd for breath,
Juft in the jaws of violence and death.

Ah, Cynthia help! ('twas thus in thought I pray'd)
Ah, help a raviíl'a, miferable maid!
The virgin-pow'r confenting to my pray'r,
Tiffus'd around a veil of clouded air:
Lot in the gloom he wanders o'er the plain,
And Arethula calls, but calls in vain

In misty fteams th' impervious vapours tile,
Perplex his gueffes, and deceive his eyes.

What fears I felt as thus enclos'd I ftood, What chilling horrors trembled through my base So pants the fawn in filence and defpair, When the grim wolf runs howling through the a So fits the lev'ret, when the hound puriues His trembling prey, and winds the tainted dew

Sudden my cheek with flashing colour burns, Pale fwoons, and fickly fears fucceed by turas Cold creeps my blood, its pulies beat no more: Big drops of fweat afcend from every pore; Adown my locks the pearly dews diftill, And each full eye pours forth a gushing rå; Now all at once my melting limbs decay, In one clear stream diffolving faft away.

The god foon faw me floating o'er the p And ftrait refum'd his watery form aganInstant, Diana, smote the trembling grant: Down rush my waters with a murm'; Thence darkling through th' infernalet, And in the Delian plains review the tr

ANGERIANUS DE CÆLIA,
(EPIG. 40.)

QUUM dormiret Amor, rapuit clam pulchra p

retram

Cælia, furreptâ flevit Amor pharetra. Noli (Cypris ait) fic flere Cupido; pharetram Pulchra tibi rapuit Cælia, reftituit. Non opus eft illi calamis, non ignibus: urit Voce, manu, greffu, pectore, fronte, oculs

CUPID MISTAKEN.

FROM THE SPORTS OF CUPID, WRITTEN I ANGERIANUS.

Imitated and enlarged.

As faft befide a murmuring ftream,
In blissful vifions Cupid lay,
Chloe, as the foftly came,

Snatch'd his golden fhafts away.
From place to place in fad surprise
The little angry godhead flew :
Trembling in his ruddy eyes

Hung the pearly drops of dew. So on the rose (in blooming May, When purple Phoebus rifes bright) Liquid gems of filver lay,

Pierc'd with glitt'ring streams of light. Fair Venus with a tender languish Smiling, thus her fon addreft,

As he murmur'd out his anguish
Trembling on her fnowy breaft:
Peace, gentle infant, I implore,
Nor lavish precious tears in vain;
Chloe, when the jest is o'er,

Brings the ufelefs thafts again.

Can Chloe reed the fhafts of love,

Young blooming, witty, plump and far.