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Why words fo flowing, thoughts fo free,

Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of thee? Thee, dreft in Fancy's airy beam,

Abfent I follow thro' th' extended Dream; Now, now I feize, I clafp thy charms,

And now you burst (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.

LIBER

O DE IX.

IV

L

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
Ceaeque, et Alcaei minaces

Stefichorique graves Camenae :
Nec, fi quid olim lufit Anacreon,
Delevit aetas: fpirat adhuc amor,
Vivuntque commiffi calores
Aeoliae fidibus puellae.

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

Part of the NINTH ODE

Of the FOURTH BOOK.

L

A FRAGMEN T.

EST you should think that verse shall die, Which founds the Silver Thames along, Taught on the wings of Truth to fly

Above the reach of vulgar fong;

Tho' daring Milton fits fublime,
In Spencer native Muses play;
Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay-

Sages and Chiefs long fince had birth

Ere Cæfar was, or Newton nam'd;

Those rais'd new Empires o'er the Earth,

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

Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's pride!
They had no Poet, and they dy'd.

In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled!
They had no Poet, and are dead.

MISCELLANIES.

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