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Their top-debauches were at best precisn, The fond philosophers for gain
An unimprov'd simplicity of vice.

Will Icave unturn'd no stone;
But this blest age has found a fairer road, But though they toil with endless pain,
And left the paths their ancestors have trod.

They never find their own.
Nay, we could tcar (our taste so very nice is)
Their old cast-fashions sooner than their vices.

by the same rock the chymists drowa, Whoring till now a common trade has been,

And find no friendly hold,

But melt their ready specie down,
But masquerades refine upon the sin :
An higher Taste to wickedness impart,

In hopes of fancy'd gold.
And second Nature with the helps of art.

What is the mad projector's care? New ways and means to pleasure we devise,

In hopes elate and swelling,
Since pleasure looks the lovelier in disguise. He builds bis castles in the air,
The stealth and frolic give a smarter gust,

Yet wants an house to dwell in.
Add wit to vice, and eloqucnce to lust.
In vain the modish evil to redress,

At court the poor dependants fail,

And damn their fruitless toil,
At once conspire the pulpit and the press :
Our priests and poets preach and write in vain;

When complimented thence to jail,

And ruin'd with a smile.
All satire's lost both sacred and profane.
So many various changes to impart,

How to philosophers will sound
Would tire an Ovid's or a Proteus' art;

So strange a truth display'd ?
Where lost in one promiscuous wbim we see, “There's not a substance to be found,
Sex, age, condition, quality, degree.

But every where a shade."
Where the facetious crowd themselves lay down,
And take up every person but their own.
Fools, dukes, rakes, cardinals, fops, Indian queens,
Belles in tye-wigs, and lords in harlequins;

TO CELIA PLAYING ON A LUTE.
I'roops of right-honourable porters come, (room:
And garter'd sma!l-coal-merchants crowd the

AN ODR. Valets adorn'd with coronets appear,

While Calia's hands fly swiftly o'er, Lacqueys of state, and footmen with a star :

And strike this soft machine,
Sailors of quality with judges mix,

Her touch awakes the springs, and life
And chinney-sweepers drive their coach and six.
Statesmen so us'd at court the mask to wear,

Of harmony within.
With less, disguise assume the vizor here.

Sweetly they sink into the strings, Officious Heydegger deceives our eyes,

The quivering strings rebound, For his own person is his best disguise :

Each stroke obsequiously obey,
And half the reigning toasts of equal grace,

And tremble into sound.
Trust to the natural vizor of the face.
Idiots turn conjurers, and courtiers clowns ;

Oh! had you blest the years of old ;

His lute had Ovid strung,
And sultans drop their handkerchiefs to nuos.
Starch'd quakers glare in furbelows and silk;

And dwelt on yours, the charming theme

Of his immortal song, Beaux deal in sprats, and dutchesses cry milk.

But guard thy fancy, Muse, nor stain thy pen Your's, with Arion's wondrous harp,
With the lewd joys of this fantastic scene;

The bard had hung on high;
Where sexes blend in one confus'd intrigue, And on the new-born star bestow'd
Where the girls ravish, and the men grow big : The honours of the sky.
Nor credit what the idle world has said,
Of lawyers forc'd, and judges brought to bed :

The radiant spheres had ceas'd their tunes,
Or that to belles their brothers breathe their vows,

And danc'd in silence on, Or husbands through mistake gallant a spouse.

Pleas'd the new harmony to hear, Such dire disasters, and a numerous throng

More heavenly than their own. Of like enormities, require the song :

Of old to raise one shade from Hell, But the chaste Muse, with blushes corer'd o'er,

To Orpheus was it given : Retires confus'd, and will reveal no more.

But every tune of yours calls down

An angel froin his Heaven.

OV A SHADOLE.

TO THE UNKNOWN

AN ODE.
How are deluded human kind

By empty shows betray'd ?
In all tincir hopes and schemes they find

A nothing or a shade.
The prospects of a truncheon cast

The soldier on the wars ;
Dismist with shatter'd limbs at last,

Brats, poverty, and scars.

AUTHOR OF THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES,
Tule theme in other works, for every part,
Supplies materials to the builder's art :
To build from matter, is sublimely great,
But gods and poets only can create ;
And such are you ; their privilege you claim,
To show your wonders, but conceal your name.

Like some establish'd king, without control,
į You take a general progress through the spul ;

Survey each part, examine every side,

The Muse Alcides shall resound; Where she's secure, and where unfortify'd.

The twins of Leda shall succeed ; In faithful lines her history declare,

This for the standing fight renown'd, And trace the causes of her civil war;

And that for managing the steed, Your pen no partial prejudices sway,

Whose star shines innocently still ; But truth decides, and virtue wins the day. (pass,

The clouds disperse, the tcmpests cease, Through what gay fields and flowery scenes we

The waves obedient to their will, Where fancy sports, and fiction leads the chase ?

Sink down, and hush their rage to peace. Where life, as through her various acts she tends, Like other comedies, in marriage ends.

Next shall I Numa's pious reign, What Muse but yours so justly could display Or thine, O Romulus, relate : Th' embattled passions marshald in array ? Or Rome by Brutus freed again, Bid the rang'd appetites in order move,

Or haughty Cato's glorious fate?
Give lust a figure, and a shape to love?

Or dwell on noble Paulus' fame?
To airy notions solid forms dispense,
And inake our thoughts the images of sense?

Too lavish of the patriot's blood ?
Discover all the rational inachine, (within?

Or Regulus' immortal name,
And show the movements, springs, and wheels

Too obstinately just and good ?
But Hymen waves his torch, all discords ceasc; | These with Camillus brave and bold,
All parley, drop their arins, and sue for peace. And other chiefs of matchless might,
Soon as the signal flames, they quit the fight, Rome's virtuous poverty of old,
For all at first but differ'd to unite.

Severely season'd to the fight.
From every part the lines in order move,
And sweetly centre in the point of love.

Like trees, Marcellus' glory grows,
Let blockheads to the musty schools repair,

With an insensible advance ; And poach for morals and the passions there,

The Julian star, like Cynthia, glows, Where Virtue, like a dwari in giant's arms,

Who leads the planetary dance. Cumber'd with words, and manacled in terms, The Fates, ( sire of human race, Serves to amuse the philosophic fool,

Entrust great Cæsar to thy care, By method dry, and regularly dull.

Give him to hold thy second place, Who sees thy lipes so visibly express

And reign thy sole vicegerent here.
The soul herself in such a pleasing dress,

And whether India he shall tame,
May from thy labours be convinc'd and taught,
How Spencer would have sung, and Plato thought. Or mighty Parthia dreads his name,

Or to his chains the Seres doom ;

And bows her haughty neck to Rome.
While on our groves thy bolts are hur!'d,

And thy loud car shakes Heaven above,
THB TWELFTH ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK He shall with justice awe the world,
OF HORACE,

To none infcrior but to Jove.

TRANSLATED,

What man, what hero will you raise,

By the shrill pipe, or deeper lyre? What god, o Clio, will you praise,

And teach the echoes to admire ? Amidst the shades of Helicon,

Cold Hæmus' tops, or Pindus' head, Whence the glad forests hasten d down,

And danc'd as tuneful Orpheus play'd. Taught by the Muse, he stopp'd the fall

Of rapid foods, and charm'd the wind; The listening oaks obey'd the call,

And left their wondering hills behind. Whom should I first record, but Jove,

Whose sway extends o'er sea and land, The king of men and gods above,

Who holds the seasons in command ? To rival Jove, shall none aspire,

None shall to equal glory rise ; But Pallas claims beneath her sire,

The second honours of the skies. To thee, O Bacchus, great in war,

To Dian will I strike the string, Of Phæbus wounding from afar,

In numbers like his own I'll sing.

TIE TWEVTY-SECOND ODE OF THE

FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.
The man unsully'd with a crime,

Disdains the pangs of fear,
He scorns to dip the poison'd shaft,

Or poise the glittering spear.
Nor with the loaded quiver goes

To take the dreadful field :
His solid virtue is his helm,

And innocence his shield.
In vain the fam'd Hydaspes' tides

Obstruct and bar the road,
He smiles on danger, and enjoys

The roarings of the food.
All climes are native, and forgets

'Th' extremes of heats and frosts,
The Scythian Caucasus grows warm,

And cool the Libyan coasts.
For while I wander'd through the woods,

And rang'd the lonely grove,
Lost and bewilder'd in the songs

And pleasing cares of love ;

TRANSLATED.

A wolf beheld me from afar,

A bare downright old-fashion'd English feast, Of monstrous bulk and might;

Such as true Britons only can digest; But, naked as I was, he fed

Such as your homely fathers us'd to love, And trembled at the sight.

Who only came to hear and to improve :) A beast so huge, nor Daunia's grore,

Humbly content and pleas'd with what was drest, Nor Afric ever view'd ,

When Otway, Lee, and Shakespeare rang'd the Though nurst by her, the lion reigns

feast.
The monarch of the wood.
Expose me in those horrid climes,
Where not a gentle breeze

PSALM VIII.
Revives the vegetable race,

Or cheers the drooping trces : Where on the world's remotest verge

O KING eternal and divine ! Th' unactive seasons lie,

The world is thine alone : And not one genial ray unbinds

Above the stars thy glories shine, The rigour of the sky :

Above the heavens thy throne. On that unhabitable shore,

How far extends thy mighty name! Expose me all alone,

Where'er the Sun can roll, Where I may view without a shade,

That Sun thy wonders shall proclaim,
The culminating Sun.

Thy deeds from pole to pole.
Beneath th' equator, or the pole,
In safety could I rove,

The infant's tongue shall speak thy power,
And in a thousand different climes

And vindicate thy laws; Could live for her I love.

The tongue that never spoke before,

Shall labour in thy cause.
For when I lift my thoughts and eyes,

And view the heavens around,
A PROLOGUE FOR THE STROLLERS, Yon stretching waste of azure skies,

With stars and planets crown'd;
Genteels, of old pert prologues led the way,
To guide, defend, and usher in the play,

Who in their dance attend the Moon,
As powder'd footmen run before the coach,

The empress of the night, And thunder at the door my lord's approach.

And pour around her silver throne, But though they speak your entertainment near,

Their tributary light: Most prologues speed like other bills of fare

Lord! what is mortal man? that he Seldom the languid stomach they excite,

Thy kind regard should share? And oftner pall, than raise the appetite.

What is his son, who claims from thee
As for the play-'tis hardly worth our care,

And challenges thy care?
The prologue craves your inercy for the player;
That is, your money-for by Jove I swear, Next to the blest angelic kind,
White gloves and lodging are confounded dear. Thy hands created man,
Since here are none but friends, the truth to own, And this inferior world assigu’d,
Hasp'd in a coach our company came down,

To dignify his span.
But I most shrewdly fear we shall deport,

Him all revere, and all obey Ev'n in our old original, a cart.

His delegated reign, With pride inverted, and fantastic power,

The Rocks that through the valley stray,
We strut the fancy'd monarchs of an hour;

The herds that grazc the plain.
While duns our emperors and heroes fear,
And Cleomenes? starves in earnest here :

The furious tiger speeds bis flight,
The mightiest kings and queens we keep in pay, And trembles at his power ;
Support their pomp on eighteen-pence a day. In fear of his superior might,
Great Cyrus for a dram has pawn'd his coat,

The lions cease to roar. And all our Cæsars can't command a groat;

Whatever horrid monsters tread Our Scipios, Hannibals, and Pompeys break,

The paths bencath the sea, And Cleopatra shifts but once a week.

Their king at awful distance dread,
To aggravate the case we have not one,

And sullenly obey.
Of all the new refinements of the town:
No moving statues, no lewd harlequins,

O Lord, how far extends thy name!
No pasteboard-players, no heroes in machines; Where-e'er the Sun can roll,
No rosin to flash lightning 'twould exhaust us, That Sun thy wonders shall proclaim,
To buy a devil and a Doctor Faustus.

Thy deeds from pole to pole.
No windmills, dragons, millers, conjurers,
To exercise your eyes, and spare your ears ;
No paper-seas, no thunder from the skies,
No witches to descend, no stage to rise ;

PSALM XXIV.
Scarce one for us the actors-we can set
Nothing before you but mere sense and wit.

Far as the world can stretch its bounds, ' The Spartan Hero, a tragedy, by Mr. Dryden.

The Lord is king of all;

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PARAPHRASED.

His wondrous power extends around

Shook by that voice, the nording groves around The circuit of the ball.

Start from their roots, and fly the dreadful sound. For he within the gloomy decps

The blasted cedars low in dust are Jaid, Its dark foundations cast,

And Lebanon is left without a shade. And rear'd the pillars of the Earth

See ! when he speaks, the lofty mountains crowd, Amid the watery waste.

And Aly for shelter from the thundering God :

Sirion and Lebanon like hinds advance, Who shall ascend his Sion's hill,

And in wild measures lead th’ unwieldy dance. And see Jehovah there? Who from bis sacred shrine shall breathe

His voice, his mighty voice, divides the fire, The sacrifice of prayer?

Back from the blast the shrinking flames retire.

Evin Cades trembles when Jehovah speaks, He only whose unsully'd soul

With all his savages the desert shakes, Fair virtue's paths has trud,

At the dread sound the hinds with fear are stung, Who with clean hands and heart regards

And in the lonely forest drop their young. His neighbour and his Gud.

While in his hallow'd temple all proclaim On him shall his indulgent Lord

His glorious honours, and adore his name, Diffusive bounties shed,

High o'er the foaming surges of the sea Prom God his Saviour shall descend

He sits, and bids the listening deeps obey : All blessings on his head.

He reigns o'er all; for ever lasts his power Of those who seek his righteous ways,

Till Nature sinks, and time shall be no more. Is this the chosen race,

With strength the sons of Israel shall he bless, Who bask in all his bounteous smiles,

And crown our tribes, with happiness and peace. And flourish in his grace. Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,

With hasty reverence rise ; Ye everlasting doors, who guard

PSALM XLVI.
The passes of the skies.

PARAPHRASED.
Swift from your golden hinges leap,
Your barriers roll away,

On God we build our sure defence,
Now throw your blazing portals wide,

In God our hope repose : And burst the gates of day.

His hand protects us in the fight, For see! the King of Glory comes

And guards us from our woes, Along th' etlereal road :

Then, be the Earth's unwieldy frame The cherubs through your folds shall bear

From its foundations hurl'd, The triumph of your God.

We may, unmov'd with fear, enjoy Who is this great and glorious King?

The ruins of the world. Oh! 'tis the Lord, whose might

What though the solid rocks be rent, Decides the conquest, and suspends

In tempests wbirl'd away? The balance of the fight.

What though the hills should burst their roots, Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,

And roll into the sea ? With hasty reverence rise ;

Thou sea, with dreadful tumults swell, Ye everlasting doors, who guard

And bid thy waters rise The passes of the skies.

In furious surges, till they dash
Swift from your golden hinges leap,

The flood-gates of the skies.
Your barriers roll away ;
Now throw your blazing
portals wide,

Our minds shall be serene and calm,
And burst the gates of day.

Like Siloah's peaceful flood;

Whose soft and silver streams refresh
For see; the King of glory comes
Along th' ethereal road;

The city of our God.
Tae cherubs through your folds shall bear Within the proud delighted waves,
The triumphs of their God.

The wanton turrets play ;
Who is this great and glorious King?

The streams lead down their humid train, Oh! 'tis the God, whose care

Reluctant to the sea. Leads on his Israel to the field,

Amid the scene the temple floats,
Whose power controls the war.

With its reflected towers,
Gilds all the surface of the flood,

And dances to the shores.
PSALM XXIX.

With wonder see what mighty power
Ye mighty princes, your oblations bring,

Our sacred Sion cheers,
And pay due honours to your awful King ; Lo! there amidst her stately walls,
His boundless power to all the world proclaim, Her God, her God appears.
Bend at his shrine, and tremble at his name.
For hark! his voice with unresisted sway

Fixt on her basis she shall stand,
Rules and controls the raging of the sea ;

And, innocently proud, Within due bounds the mighty ocean keeps,

Smile on the tumults of the world, And in their watery cavern awes the deeps :

Beneath the wings of God.

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See ! how, their weakness to proclaim,

We at thy mighty call, O Lord, The heathen tribes engage!

Our fancy'd beings leave, See! hox with fruitless wrath they burn,

Rouz'd from the flattering dream of life, And impotence of rage!

To sleep within the grave, But God has spoke; and lo! the world,

Swift from their barrier to their goal His terrours to display,

The rapid moments pass, With all the melting globe of Earth,

And leave poor man, for whom they run, Drops silently away.

The emblem of the grass. Still to the mighty Lord of hosts

In the first morn of life it grows, Securely we resort;

And lifts its verdant head, For refuge fly to Jacob's God,

At noon decays, at evening dies, Our succour and support.

And withers in the mead. Hither, ye numerous nations, crowd,

We in the glories of thy face In silent rapture stand,

Our secret sins survey, And sec o'er all the Earth display'd

And see how gloomy those appear, The wonders of his hand.

How pure and radiant they. He bids the din of war be still,

To death, as our appointed goal, And all its tumults cease;

Thy anger drives us on, He bids the guiltless trumpet sound

To that full period fix'd at length The harmony of peace.

This tale of life is done. He breaks the tough reluctant bow,

With winged speed, to stated bounds He bursts the brazen spear,

And limits we must ily, And in the crackling fire his hand

While seventy rolling suns compleat Consumes the blazing car.

Their circles in the sky. Hear then his formidable voice,

Or if ten more around us roll, “ Be still, and know the Lord;

'Tis labour, woe, and strife, By all the heathen I'll be fear'd;

Till we at length are quite drawn down By all the Earth ador'd.”

To the last dregs of life. Still to the mighty Lord of hosts,

But who, O Lord, regards thy wrath, Securely we resort;

Though dreadful and severe? For refuge fly to Jacob's God;

That wrath, whatever fear he feels,
Our succour and support.

Is equal to his fear.
So teach us, Lord, to count our days,

And eye their constant race,
To measure what we want in time,

By wisdom, and by grace.
PSALM XC.

With us repent, and on our hearts

Thy choicest graces shed, Thy hand, O Lord, through rolling years

And shower from thy celestial throne Has sav'd us from despair,

Thy blessings on our head. From period down to period stretch'd

Oh! may thy mercy crown us here, The prospects of thy care.

And come without delay; Before the world was first conceiv'd,

Then our whole course of life will seem Before the pregnant Earth,

One glad triumphant day. Callid forth the mountains from her womb,

Now the blest years of joy restore, Who struggled to their birth;

For those of grief and strife, Eternal God! thy early days

And with one pleasant drop allay Beyond duration run,

This bitter draught of life. Ere the first race of starting time

Thy wonders to the world display, Was measur'd by the Sun.

Thy servants to adorn, We die ; but future nations hear

That may delight their future sons, Thy potent voice again,

And children yet unborn; Rise at the summons, and restore

Thy beams of majesty diffuse, The perish'd race of man;

With them thy great comız

mmands, Before thy comprehensive sight,

And bid prosperity attend
Duration fleets away ;

The labours of our hands.
And rapid ages on the wing,
Fly swifter than a day.

PSALM CXXXIX.
As great Jehovah's piercing eyes
Eternity explore,

PARAPHRASED, IN MILTONIC VERSE. The longest era is a night,

O dread Jehovah ! thy all-piercing eyes A period is an boor.

Explore the motions of this mortal frame,

PARAPHRASED.

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