As thou, to whom the Mufe commends
The best of poets and of friends,
Doft thy committed pledge reftore,
And land him fafely on the fhore;
And fave the better part of me,
From perishing with him at sea,
Sure he, who firft the paffage try'd,
In harden'd oak his heart did hide,
And ribs of iron arm'd his fide;
Or his at leaft, in hollow wood
Who tempted firft the briny flood:
Nor fear'd the winds contending roar,
Nor billows beating on the fhore ;
Nor Hyades portending rain;
Nor all the tyrants of the main.
What form of death could him affright,
Who unconcern'd, with ftedfaft fight,
Could view the furges mounting fteep,
And monsters rolling in the deep!
Could thro' the ranks of ruin go,
With ftorms above, and rocks below!
In vain did Nature's wife command
Divide the waters from the land,
If daring fhips and men prophane
Invade th' inviolable main;

Th' eternal fences over-leap,
And pafs at will the boundless deep.
No toil, no hardship can reftrain
Ambitious man inur'd to pain;

The more confin'd, the more he tries,
And at forbidden quarry flies.

Thus bold Prometheus did afpire,

And ftole from Heav'n the feeds of fire:

A train of ills, a ghaftly crew,
The robber's blazing track purfue;

2

Fierce

Fierce famine with her meagre face,
And fevers of the fiery race,

In fwarms th' offending wretch furround,
All brooding on the blafted ground:
And limping death, lafh'd on by fate,
Comes up to fhorten half our date.
This made not Dedalus beware,
With borrow'd wings to fail in air
To hell Alcides forc'd his way,

:

Plung'd thro' the lake, and fnatch'd the prey.
Nay fcarce the Gods, or heavenly climes,
Are fafe from our audacious crimes;
We reach at Jove's imperial crown.
And pull th' unwilling thunder down.

THE

NINTH ODE of the FIRST BOOK

H OR A CE,

I.

EHOLD yon mountain's hoary height

Again behold the winter's weight
Oppress the lab'ring woods below:
And ftreams, with icy fetters bound,
Benumb'd and crampt to folid ground.

II.

With well-heap'd logs diffolve the cold,
And feed the genial hearth with fires;
Produce the wine, that makes us bold,
And sprightly wit and love inspires :

For what hereafter shall betide,
God, if 'tis worth his care, provide.
III.

Let him alone, with what he made,
To tofs and turn the world below;
At his command the storms invade;
The winds by his commiffion blow;
Till with a nod he bids 'em cease,

And then the calm returns, and all is peace.

;

VI, To

IV.

To-morrow and her works defy,

Lay hold upon the present hour, And fnatch the pleasures paffing by,

To put them out of fortune's pow'r : Nor love, nor love's delights disdain; Whate'er thou get'ft to-day, is gain.

V.

Secure thofe golden early joys,

That youth unfour'd with sorrow bears,
Ere with'ring time the tafte deftroys,
With fickness and unweildy years.
For active sports, for pleafing rest,
This is the time to be poffeft;
The beft is but in season beft.

VI.

Th' appointed hour of promis'd bliss,
The pleafing whisper in the dark,

The half unwilling willing kifs,

The laugh that guides thee to the mark, When the kind nymph would coyness feign, And hides but to be found again;

Thefe, thefe are joys the Gods for youth ordain.

}

THE

Twenty-ninth ODE of the First Book

OF

HOR A CE.

Paraphras'd in Pindaric verfe, and infcribed to the Right Hon. Laurence Earl of Rochefter.

I.

Defended of an ancient line,

That long the Tuscan scepter fway'd,
Make hafte to meet the generous wine,
Whose piercing is for thee delay'd:
The rofy wreath is ready made;

And artful bands prepare

The fragrant Syrian oil, that fhall perfume thy hair. II.

When the wine fparkles from afar,

And the well-natur'd friend cries, Come away; Make hafte, and leave thy bufinefs and thy care: No mortal int'reft can be worth thy flay.

III.

Leave for a while thy coftly country feat i

And, to be great indeed, forget The naufeous pleasures of the great: Make hafte and come:

Come,