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Et centum puer artium,

Latè figna feret militiæ tuæ. Et, quandoque potentior

Largis muneribus riserit æmuli, Albanos prope, te, lacus

Ponet marmorcam fub trabe Citreâ, illic plurima naribus

Duces thura, lyræque, & Berecynthiæ Delectabere tibiæ .

Mistis carminibus, non fine fistula. Illic bis pueri die

Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum Laudantes, pede candido

In morem Salium ter quatient humum. Me nec femina, ncc puer

Jam, nec fpes animi credula mutui, Nec certare juvat mero,

Nec vincire novis tempora floribus. Sed cur heu, Ligurine, cur..

Manat rara meas lacryma per genas? Cur facunda parûm decoro

Inter verba cadit lingua filentio ? Nocturnis te ego fomnis

1 Jani captum ţeneo, jam yolucrem sequera Te per gramina Martii

Campi, te per aquas dure, volubiles.

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Beneath the sacred Shade of odel's Wood,
Or on the Banks of Oufe's gentle Flood,
With od’rous Beams a Temple he shall, raise, 22
For ever sacred to thy Praise,
Till the fair Stream, and Wood, and Love it self

decays.
There while rich Insense on thy Altar burns,
Thy Votaries, the Nymphs and Swains,

In melting soft harmonious Strains,
Mix'd with the softer Flutes, shall tell their Flanies by

Turns.
As Love and Beauty with the Light are born;
So with the Day thy Honours fall return;
Some lovely Youth, pair'd with a blushing Maid,
A Troop of either Sex shall lead,
And twice the Salian Measures round thy Altar tread.
Thus with an equal Empire o’er the Light,

The Queen of, Love, and God of, Wis,

Together rife, together fit; But, Goddess, do thou stay, and bless alone the Niglit, There may'st thou reign, while I forget to love: No more false Beauty Mall my Pallion move, Nor shall my fond believing Heart be led, By mutual Vows and Oaths betray'd, To hope for Truth from the protesting Maid, With Love the sprightly Joys of Wine are filed ; The Roses too shall wither now, That us'd to made and crown my:Brow, And round my chearful Temples fragrant Odours fhed. But tell me, CYNTHIA, say, bewitching Fair, mean these Sighs? Why steals this falling Tear?

And

What

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And when my strugling Thoughts for Passage ftrove, Why did my Tongue refuse to move ?

S Tell me, can this be any Thing but Love ? Still with the Night my Dreams my Griefs renew,

Still the is present to my Eyes,

And still in vain I, as the fiies, O'er Woods and Plains;and Seas, the cornful Maid perfue.

HORA T. LIB. I. EPIST. IV.

Ad ALBI UM TIBULLUM.

A

Lbi, noftrorum Sermonum candide judex,

Qaid nunc re dicam facere in regione Pedan Stribere quod Cofsi Parmenfis opufcula vincat ? An tacitum sylvas inter reprare falubres." Curantem quicquid dignum sapiente bontoque eft? Non tu corpus eras fine pectore. Di tibi formam, Di tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi. Quid voveat dulci nutricula njajus alumno, Quam sapere, & fari ut poffit quæ fentiat, & utque Gratia, fama, valetudo contingat abunde

HORA CE, Book I. Epifi. IV.

Inscribd to R. THORNHILL, Esq; HORNHILL, whom doubly to my Heart cominend

,
Say what thou dost in thy Retireinent find,
Worthy the Labours of thy active Mind
Whether the Tragick Mufc infpires thy Thought,
To emulate what moving OTWA? wrote;
Or whether tų the Covert of some Grove.
Thou and thy Thoughts do from the World remove,
Where to thy self thou all those Rules dort now,
That good Men ought to practise, or wise know.
For sure thy Mass of Man, is no dull Clay,
But well inform'd with the Celestilal Ray.
The bounteous Gods, to thee complearly kind,
In a fair Frame inclos’d thy fairer Mind :
And tho' they did profusely Wealth bestow,

thee the true Ufe of Wealth to know,
Could ev'n the Nurse wish for her darling Boy
A Happiness which thou dost not enjoy,
D6

What

They gave

Et mundus victus, non deficiente crumenâ ?
Inter fpem, curamque; timores inter & iras,
Omnem crede dicm tibi diluxiffe fupremum.
Grata superveniet, quæ non fperabitur, hora.
Me pinguem, & nitidum benè curatâ cute vises,
Cùm ridere yoles Epicuri de grege porcum.

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