He, with a hundred Arts refin'd, Shall ftretch thy conquefts over half the kind: To him each Rival fhall fubmit, Make but his Riches equal to his Wit. Then fhall thy Form the Marble grace, (Thy Grecian Form) and Chloe lend the Face: His Houfe, embofom'd in the Grove, Sacred to focial life and focial love, Shall glitter o'er the pendent green, Where Thames reflects the vifionary scene: Thither, the filver founding lyres Shall call the fmiling Loves, and young Defires; There, ev'ry Grace and Muse shall throng, Exalt the dance, or animate the fong; There Youths and Nymphs, in confort gay, Shall hail the rifing, close the parting day. With me, alas! thofe joys are o'er ; For me the vernal garlands bloom no more, Adieu; fond hope of mutual fire, The ftill-believing, ftill renew'd defire; Namque et nobilis, et decens, Et pro folicitis non tacitus reis, Et centum puer artium, Late figna feret militiae tuae.. Et, quandoque potentior Largis muneribus riferit aemuli, Albanos prope te lacus Ponet marmoream fub trabe citrea Illic plurima naribus Duces thura; lyraque et Berecynthiae Delectabere tibia Mixtis carminibus, non fine fiftula. Illic bis pueri die Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum Laudantes, pede candido In morem Salium ter quatient humum. Adieu! the heart-expanding bowl, And all the kind Deceivers of the foul! But why? ah tell me, ah too dear! Steals down my cheek th' involuntary Tear? Why words fo flowing, thoughts fo free, Stop or turn nonfenfe, at one glance of thee? Thee, preft in Fancy's airy beam, Abfent I follow thro' th' extended Dream; Now, now I cease, I clasp thy charms, And now you burft (ah cruel!) from my arms; And swiftly shoot along the Mall, Or foftly glide by the Canal, Now shown by Cynthia's filver ray, And now, on rolling waters fnatch'd away. Me nec femina, nec puer Jam, nec fpes animi credula mutui, Nec certare juvat mero Nec vincire novis tempora floribus. Sed cur, heu! Ligurine, cur Manat rara meas lacrymo per genas? Cur facunda parum decoro Inter verba cadit lingua filentio ? Nocturnis te ego fomniis Jam captum teneo jam volucrem fequor Te per gramina Martii Campi, te per aquas, dure, volubiles. Part of the NINTH ODE of LEST the FOURTH BOOK. A FRAGMENT. EST you fhould think that verfe fhall die, Taught on the wings of Truth to fly. Above the reach of vulgar song : Tho' daring Milton fits fublime, Sages and Chiefs long fince had birth And Thofe, new Heav'ns and Syftems fram'd. N E forte credas Interitura, quae Longe fonantem natus ad Aufidum Non ante vulgatas per artes Verba loquor focianda chordis: Non, fi priores Maeonius tenet Nec, fi quid olim lufit Anacreon, Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's pride! Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona |