Still various, and unconstant ftill, 1 can enjoy her while fhe's kind; But when the dances in the wind, And fhakes the wings, and will not stay, The little or the much fhe gave, is quietly refign'd: Content with poverty, my foul I arm; 85 And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm. X. What is't to me, Who never fail in her unfaithful fea, If ftorms arife, and clouds grow black; 90 If the mast split, and threaten wreck ? Then let the greedy merchant fear For his ill-gotten gain; And pray to gods that will not hear, While the debating winds and billows bear For me, fecure from Fortune's blows, In my small pinnace I can fail, Contemning all the blustering roar; 95 100 3 And running with a merry gale, With friendly ftars my safety seek, Within fome little winding creek; And fee the storm afhore. THE SECOND EPODE OF HORACE. HOW happy in his low degree, Liv'd men in better Nor drums difturb his morning fleep, Nor fears the dangers of the deep. The clamours of contentious law, And court and ftate, he wifely fhuns, Nor brib'd with hopes, nor dar'd with awe, To fervile falutations runs ; But either to the clafping vine Does the fupporting poplar wed, Or with his pruning-hook disjoin 5 10 15 20 Unbearing branches from their head, He views his herds in vales afar, Or, in the now declining year, When bounteous Autumn rears his head, And cluftring grapes with purple spread. Maintains the confort of the fong; The golden fleep prolong. But when the blaft of winter blows, And hoary froft inverts the Into the naked woods he goes, year, And feeks the tufky boar to rear, With well-mouth'd hounds and pointed spear! Or fpreads his fubtle nets from fight, With twinkling glaffes, to betray The larks that in the meshes light, Or makes the fearful hare his prey. Amidft his harmless eafy joys No anxious care invades his health, Nor love his peace of mind deftroys, Nor wicked avarice of wealth. But if a chafte and pleafing wife, Will fire for winter nights provide, And then produce her dairy store, And unbought dainties of the Not oyfters of the Lucrine lake My fober appetite would wish, Nor turbot, or the foreign fish That rolling tempefts overtake, poor; And hither waft the coftly difh. 50 55 60 65 70 75 |