impose upon me, do not get up on horfeback; get
up into the Pulpit."

The Philofopher Antifthenes affected to go in
rags, like a beggar. Socrates faid to him one day,
"Pride and vanity peep through those holes of
your cloke." Ælian. Var. Hiftor. Lib. IX. c. 35.*

Bayle, enumerating the new taxes invented by
Louis XIV. and the uncouth names by which they
went, fays, "Here are Words, admirably fuited to
impoverish Subjects, and to enrich Dictionaries."

When Charles V. (fays a Spanish Historian) fled
before Maurice of Saxony, and hurried from
Infpruck on foot, he walked after his retinue, to
testify his courage; and bade them double their
pace, faying, "Haften away, and be not afraid
of a Traitor, who hath wickedly rebelled against
his Prince." If it be true that Charles faid thus, to
hearten his men, and encourage them to run for it, he
followed the maxim of Sandoval, his Cronicador, who
puts at the head of one of his chapters,

"Los Spanoles vittoriofos fe ne fuyeron."
The victorious Spaniards ran away, &c,
See Bibl. Univ. X. 14,

Kühnius re

* The original is Ου παύση εγκαλλωπίζομαι υμίν.
marks on the paffage," Clariùs hæc Diogenes: Scribit enim
dixiffe, Όρω σε δια τα τρίβωνος την Φιλοδοξίαν. " V. Edit. Kühn.
Argentorati. 1685.

We

We are informed by Rabelais, B. IV. Ch. VIII. that Panurge, in a voyage at fea, had a quarrel with a merchant, who carried a flock of sheep to fell, The paffengers interpofed, and made them fhake hands and drink together. Panurge, still meditating revenge, fo contrives it by a ftratagem, as to drown all the fheep, and the merchant along with them: and, rejoicing over his exploit, fays to his companion, Friar John, "Hear this from me: No man ever did me a difpleafure, without repenting of it, either in this world, or in the next,"

TRANSLATIONS

TRANSLATIONS

LUSUS

FROM THE

POETICI,

TRANSLATION OF ODE II,

CASSANDRA'S PROPHECY.

Hector cum Patria mania linqueret, &c. WHEN Hector dauntlefs left the Trojan walls, No more, alas! to view his native home, Thus with prophetic voice his fifter calls,

Her locks difhevell'd;--Hark, CASSANDRA's Come

Whither, O Phoebus ?-Whence that loud acclaim?
See, their chiefs fly: refounds my Hector's name!
See, the fleet burns :-the fea's on fire,
Ting'd Grecian with th' empurpled hue of ire.

Frail, fondeft joys,-how quick ye fade

Ay me! great Priam's bands recede!

away!

And thou, lov'd brother, wretched I furvey,

How foon for Juno's vengeance thou must bleed.

See P. 8.

O Tower

O Tower of Troy! her honour, and her pain!
Yet happy, doom'd to fall in her defence:
Happy,-for lo, in fam'd Mæonian ftrain,
Glory thy deeds fhall through the world dispense.

All, all muft yield :-'Tis but the general doom:
Darkness and filence may furround thy tomb:
But tuneful lays, by Poet lifted high,
Forbid the brave, the virtuous man to die."

B.

TRANSLATION OF ODE III. *
Qualis per nemorum nigra filentia, &c.
As through the filence of the grove,
And through the meadow's verdant way,
The placid riv❜let loves to rove,

Whilft murmurs foft its courfe betray:

* See Page 9. This, and the poem "On the Nature of the Soul," P. 463, are found in the Gentleman's Magazine, for August 1789, with the following note. "The Tranflator has not the vanity to think he has transferred much of the spirit of the original into his verses. His claim to praise has no foundation, if he wants that of fidelity. He wishes to give the English reader fome idea of JORTIN's elegance of fancy, and to excite the fcholar to perufe fome of the most claffical Latin verfes which modern times have produced."

It may not be improper to take notice of a fingular mistake made by the editor of Vincent Bourne's Miscellaneous Poems, publifhed in 4to. 1772, who in Page 314, has reprinted, with fome variations, the above third Ode of Dr. JORTIN, Qualis per nemorum, &c. as the production of Mr. Bourne, under the title of "VOTUM."

Awhile, around its native mead
It ftrives a winding courfe to keep;
Till, as the flope improves its speed,
It gains the bofom of the deep:

Thus, through the fecret path of life
May I, unclogg'd by riches, glide!
Nor tangled in the thorns of ftrife,

Nor with the blood of conqueft dyed!

And when the fhades of night increase,
When cloy'd with pleasure, prefs'd by woes,
May Sleep's kind brother bring me peace,
And his cold hand my dull eyes clofe!

TRANSLATION OF ODE IV.

Vix triftis dubia luce rubet Polus, &¢, WITH faintest gleam now dies the languid ray, In peaceful filence wrapt, creation fleeps ; While with lone ftep thro' these fad fhades I ftray, And love, with me, the penfive vigil keeps.

Unpitying JULIA! whither doft thou fly?

Wilt thou, regardless, tempt the ocean's rage Shall billows waft thee from my raptur'd eye,No diftant hope my ling'ring woe t' affuage?

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