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ODE on the fifth of DECEMBER,

Being the birth-day of a very beautiful YOUNG LADY.

H

By Mr. CHRISTOPHER SMART.

I.

AIL eldeft of the monthly train,

Sire of the winter drear,

DECEMBER, in whofe iron reign
Expires the chequer’d year :

Hufh all the bluft'ring blafts that blow,
And proudly plum'd in filver fnow

Smile gladly on this bleft of days;
The livery'd clouds fhall on thee wait,
And PHOEBUS fhine in all his ftate

With more than fummer rays.

II.

Tho' jocund JUNE may juftly boast
Long days and happy hours;
Tho' AUGUST be POMONA's hoft,

And MAY be crown'd with flow'rs;
Tell JUNE, his fire and crimfon dyes
By HARRIOT's blufh and HARRIOT's eyes
Eclips'd and vanquish'd fade away;
Tell AUGUST, thou canft let him fee
A richer, riper fruit than He,

C

A fweeter flow'r than MAY.

The ABSURDITY of WISHING.

AN we fucceed by wishing ?-'tis a jest ;
That conftant hectick of a fool at best.

Those things we fondly doat on, when poffefs'd,
Infipid grow, and are no more carefs'd.
One point obtain'd, another ftrikes the fight,
And Hope deludes us with a dazzling light.

Numb. VI.

Ff

Sure

Sure 'tis abfurd, impertinent, and vain

To wish for fomething which we cannot gain;
Life's prefent comforts this at once destroys,
And makes us restless for untasted joys.
Heav'n kindly grants the boon which we implore:
That boon receiv'd, we murmur as before;
By wild caprice from youth to age are led,
Nor ceafe complaints, 'till number'd with the dead.
The MISER, brooding o'er his treasur'd heap,
Can no enjoyment from poffeffion reap;
But always thirfting to increase his store,
In plenty pines, ridiculously poor.

The youthful STATESMAN, by ambition fir'd,

Burns with impatience for the point defir'd ;
But ere the wish'd for prospect is in view,

Soon, foon he pants another to pursue.

"Give me a horfe" PHILARIO cries, "I'll ride,
"There's no diverfion in the world befide;"
'Till Fancy whispers gently in his Ear,

"Methinks a pair would more genteel appear."
Thefe, purchas'd once, unnumber'd wants create;
Now fplendor charms him, equipage, and state
Shifting about, inconftant as the wind,

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To various fchemes at various times inclin'd:
Whate'er is prefent grants a tranfient joy,
New objects ftrike him, and as quickly cloy.
FANTASCUS, weary'd out with town-delights,
Days spent in nonsense, and luxurious nights,
Flies to the country, there expects to meet
Eafe for his mind, and happiness compleat:
But ftill past pleasures are imprefs'd fo ftrong,
No rural scenes can captivate him long.
Prompted by fancy and the love of gain,
MERCATOR braves the rough tempeftuous main ;
To diftant regions fails with heart elate,
And home returns both opulent and great.-

But.

But has he found, by different change of air,
That richest prize, an antidote for care?

Sir FLUTTER hates a folitary life,

And turns his thoughts on "family and wife ;"—
By them imagines to fecure content;

New cares perplex him, "furniture and rent:"
With children bleft, anxiety commences;
He talks of nothing then but vaft expences.
Thus difcontent feems woven in our frame,
And perfect blifs is nothing but a name,
Yet if we ftrove with diligence fincere
To keep our breafts from cank'ring envy clear,
Much of this peevish humour wou'd fubfide:-
The greatest bar to happiness is PRIDE.

A LOVE

ELEGY.

The POET bids farewell to his MISTRESS.

Mperious Love, whofe fecret fire

Long time has prey'd upon my breast,

Each wifh prefents, each vain defire,
In fancy's gaudieft colours drest:

But ftern impartial Reafon cries,

Thy felf-deceiving hopes refign; Deluded wretch! fupprefs thy fighs,

Nor dare in fecret thought repine.

THOU artless fair one, mistress, friend,

Thou first and beft belov'd, farewell! What griefs my heart at parting rend,

Let tears and broken murmurs tell.

With thee I hop'd, ah flattering dream!

To tafte the sweets that never cloy;
But fate o'erturn'd each airy scheme
Of focial peace, and guiltlefs joy.
Ff 2

O come,

O come, Religion, to my aid,

And footh my anguished foul to reft;

Bid me forget the lovely maid,

Bid me forget I once was bleft.

FAREWELL, thy fex's noblest pride!
O may my happy rival's love,
Crown'd with fuccefs to mine deny'd,

Like mine fincere and constant prove.

Why weep for me? At heav'n's command
Soon fhall I fink to foft repose,
And foon fhall death with pitying hand
This scene of grief and folly close.

No more, with filent pleasure fir'd,

These eyes upon thy charms fhall gaze,

No more my tongue, by love inspir'd,
Delightful task! thy virtues praise.

The dear companions of my youth

Shall oft my hapless loves relate, Shall praise my constancy and truth,

My frailties mourn and early fate.

M*****, once confcious of my cares,

Shall feel the pangs of generous woe,
Nor, gentle C*****, fhall thy tears
For thy loft friend disdain to flow.

L

HORACE,

Book II. Ode X.

ICINIUS, if you would obtain
The blifs of life, and fhun the pain,
Urge not your too obedient feet
To climb ambition's lofty feat,.
Nor, to avoid the gufts of pow'r,
Approach too near the adverse shore.

The

The middle state, enjoy'd by few,
That can the golden age renew,
Alike does fly dark cottage wall,
And fplendidly-luxurious hall.

The lofty pine, whose stately head
Difdains the fhrub beneath his fhade,
By a rude blast from ftormy sky,
On level with the fhrub does lye.
Cloud-piercing tow'rs, by time decay'd,
In deeper ruin fhall be laid;

And ten-fold rage of thund'ring Jove
Afpiring hills and mountains prove,
Amidst the angry frowns of fate
Support thy mind in peaceful state;
Nor let relenting fortune's fmile,
To lavish joys thy heart beguile;
Whatever lot the gods shall give,
Prepar'd, fubmiffive, to receive.

Thus time's revolving feafons bring
Dull winter and the smiling spring,
The glooming fummer's genial ray,
And autum's faint declining day:
Like thefe, too tranfient long to last,
Fortune's gay fmile, or angry blaft.
Apollo oft with golden lyre

Kindles the muses facred fire,
Nor from his deadly-twanging bow
Does flaming darts inceffant throw.
Learn then to bear with equal mind
Life's fickle, ever-shifting wind ;
When storms inveft the face of day,
Let not thy courage melt away;
Nor let thy deeply-fwelling fail
Too fondly court the profp'rous gale.
London, June 16,

T. N.

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