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“ I have a thousand thanks to give

My Lord alone knows how to tive." No sooner said, but from the Hall

210 Rulh Chaplain, Butler, Dogs and all : “ A Rat, a Rat! clap to the door The Cat comes bouncing on the floor. O for the heart of Homer's Mice, Or Gods to save them in a trice !

215 (It was by Providence they think, For your damn’d Stucco has no chink.) “ An't please your Honour, quoth the Peasant, “ This fame Deffert is not so pleasant : “Give me again my hollow Tree,

220 “ A Crust of Bread, and Liberty !


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NTERMISSA, Venus, diu

Rursus bella moves ? parce precor, precor. Non fum qualis eram bonae

Sub regno Cynarae. desine, dulcium Mater faeva Cupidinum,

Circa lustra decem fectere mollibus Jam durum imperiis: abi

Quo blandae juvenum te revocant preces. Tempestiviús in domum

Paulli, purpureis ales oloribus, Comiffabere Maximi;

Si torrere jecur quaeris idoneum. Namque et nobilis, et decens,

Et pro solicitis non tacitus reis, Et centum puer artium,

Late figna feret militiae tuae. Et, quandoque potentior

Largi muneribus riserit aemuli,








GAIN? new Tumults in my breast?

Ah spare me, Venus ! let me, let me reft!
I am not now, alas! the man

As in the gentle Reign of My Queen Anne.
Ah sound no more thy soft alarms,

Nor circle sober fifty with thy Charms:
Mother too fierce of dear Desires !

Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires.
To Number five direct your Doves,

There spread round MURRAY all your blooming

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Noble and young, who strikes the heart

With ev'ry sprightly, ev'ry decent part;
Equal, the injur'd to defend,

To charm the Mistress, or to fix the Friend.
He, with a hundred Arts refin'd,

Shall stretch thy conquests over half the kind :
To him each Rival shall fubmit,

Make but his Riches equal to his Wit.

* This, and the unfinished imitation of the ninch Ode of the fourth Book which follows, few as happy a vein for the Odes of Horace as for the Epiitles, VOL. VI.



Albanos prope te lacus

Ponet marmoream sub trabe citrea. Illic plurima naribus

Duces thura s lyræque et Berecynthize 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. Sed cur, heu ! Ligurine, cur

Manat rara meas lacryma 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.

Then shall thy Form the Marble grace,

(Thy Grecian Form) and Chloe lend the Face : His House, emborom'd in the Grove,

Sacred to social life and social love,
Shall glitter o'er the pendent green,

Where Thames reflects the visionary scene :
Thither, the filver-sounding lyres
Shall call the smiling Loves, and young

Defires; There, ev'ry Grace and Mufe shall throng,

Exalt the dance, or animate the fong;
There Youths and Nymphs, in consort gay,

Shall, hail the rising, close the parting day.
With me, alas ! those joys are o'er ;
For me, the vernal garlands bloom no more.

Adieu ! fond hope of mutual fire,

The still believing, fill-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? Why words fo Aowing, thoughts fo free,

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

Absent I follow thro' th' extended Dream; Now, now I feize, I clasp thy charms,

And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms; And swiftly shoot along the Mall,

Or softly glide by the Cand,
Now shown by Cynthia's filver ray,

And now, on rolling waters snatch'd away.


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