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The Sailor views in storms kis vessel tost, And busily explores fome friendly coast; Or in vain struggles impotent to save Sinks with his found'ring ship beneath th’o’erwhelming wave.

Th’impatient Nymph her absent lover woos,
Pours out her soul in tender billet-doux ;
The fly Adultress Fondlewife betrays,
To her gallant the hinting bribe conveys.

Sure here at least the wretched find relief,
Absence from thought, and interval from grief.
Vain hope ! still here familiar horrors reign,
In troubled thought the wounded bleed again,
And self-tormented feel th’ extremities of pain.


Imitated from the FRENCH

Lady fair, to country feat confin’d,

Quadrille, ridottos, coxcombs left behind,
To lonely shade of neighb'ring grove repairs,
To muse on conquests past, and study future airs.
But still the CATERPILLAR's buzzing note
Baffles the scheme, and interrupts the thought :
Noisy and rude as beau while on he press'd,
The Dame the faucy insect thus address’d.

Vile wretch, whose odious notes and looks displease, Who of their verdant honours ftripst the trees, Fly, e'er my just resentment on thee fall, Methinks e'en now I feel thy nauseous' crawl.

Vain are your threats and overweening pride, The CATERPILLAR scornfully reply'd.


That gloomy form, which now offends your eye,
Shall please, when chang’d to gaudy Butterfly;
With glitt'ring robes adorn’d of various hue, si
In native lustre then shall rival you, ;!'

Thus you a CATERPILLAR rise from bed, Till borrow'd charms the fallow skin o'erspread, And nature's flaws are clos’d with white and red.

At spring this grove its verdure might renew;
Ere that perhaps 'twill fall by cards and you. ,
No country clown so ignorant but fees,
While I the leaves, that you destroy the trees.


HORACE Book I. Ode 4. translated.. Solvitur acris hyems gratâ vice Veris & Favoni, & THE rude, inclement, binding blast

Of all-benumbing Winter past,
In sweet viciffitude the Spring
Does tepid airs and odours bring;
Before him rose-lip'd Zephyrs blow,
And round the ransom'd waters flow.

Now with glad shouts they launch again
Their new-rigg’d ships, and plow the main :
No more the ox his crib delights,
Nor crackling blaze the clown invites;
Nor barren fields, like aged Time,
Are veild with snow or hoary rime.

Now Cytherea leads her train," To wanton on the primrose plain:


The lovely Graces aid the dance,
And in the sprightly ring advance :
Pleas'd with the fight, fair Cynthia smiles
Serene, and envious night beguiles :

While they diffuse ambrosial sweet,
And skim the meadows with blest feet;
'Midít flaming forges Vulcan glows,
And Cyclops peal their clatt'ring blows.

Now let thy moist and Aowing hair
With fragrant oils enrich the air ;
Let op'ning flow'rs their sweets combine,
And round thy temples gayly shine.

Within the deep and folemn shade
Of facred groves thy vows be paid ;
And sportive lamb or wanton kid
On Pan's mysterious altars bleed,

O happy Sestius! since a span Confines the narrow age of man, And since the fatal dubious die, That seems to sleep, does rapid fly, No more let fraudful hope devour, But wisely seize, the passing hour.

Pale Death his equal visit pays
Where shepherd pipes, or monarch sways ;
Already shades of gloomy night
Hang on thy rear, and urge thy flight;:
Grim Erebus is near at hand,
And Lethe's filent fable ftrand; .
The everlasting drear inane,
The realm of ghosts, and Pluto's reign.


There shalt thou Ait thro' dusky air
A roving, restless wanderer ;
To festive joys ah then adieu !
And love's delights muft vanish too!

T. N


LL-pow'rful FANCY, dear delusive Maid,
n Daughter of Hope, Imagination's fhade,
Gift of indulgent heav'n, design'd below
With pictur'd joys to balance real woe :--
Wherever thou hast spread thy airy wings,
Lodg’d in the breast of statesmen or of kings;
Whether thy visionary pow'r inspires
Some poet's brain with heav'n-descended fires,
And bids him wantön in the golden dream
Of riches, honours, and immortal fame;
Whether thou mak'st th' inraptur'd lover trage
A little heav'n, that smiles in Hebe's face;
Dream of a grace divine, an angel's air,
And in the goddess lose the mortal fair : omnia
Since, in the bitter draught of human woe
Whate'er of sweet is found, to thee we owe';
Since what substantial happiness we call,
Is but thyself; kind Nymph, thy bounty all;
Vain all and empty, but what thou hast giv'n,
E’en Virtue's self, unless the leans on heav'n ;-
Haste hither, sweet deceiver, gentle guest,
Haite and erect thy empire in my breast :
Bid pleasures here in airy forms arise,
Ideal raptures, self-created joys:
Here rëvel thou entire, and ever reign,
Quick let me catch the visionary scene:

Numb; II:


Paint the dear object of my constant fame,
Her face unchang’d, her beauty still the same,
(That only thing thou know'st not to improve)
Fair Chloe, only soften’d into love :
There let me view the marks of fond defire,
A pure, unspotted, but an equal fire;
A love that by its coyness more endears,
Fearful, but still the more betray'd by fears :
Here let the heav'nly image ever dwell ;
Unpleasing truth, rude messenger, farewell!
And fince all other methods fruitless prove,
Fancy, be thou my advocate in love.


HORACE. Ode XXII. Book 1. imitated.

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THE man, who not a farthing owes,
1 Looks down with scornful eye on those,

Who rise by fraud and cunning;
Tho' in the Pig-market he stand
With aspect grave and clear-ftarch'd band,

He fears no tradesman's dunning

He passes by each shop in town,
Nor hides his face beneath his gown,

No dread his heart invading;
He quaffs the nectar of the Tuns,
Or on a spur-galld hackney runs

To London, masquerading.


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