Barbaro tandèm satiata, ludo
Ægidem ponas, gladiumque ; caltam
Virginem dirus gladius, feroxque
Dedecet Ægis.
Flagitas noftræ quid agunt camænæ ?
Uror infelix! mihi me Belinda
Surripit! Collum 0! niveum, O! Puellæ
Suave labellum !
Ah! ut obliquo afpiciens ocello
Torruit pectus ?---neque tu furoris
Inícius blandi! tibi fævit imis
Flamma medullis!
Tu tamen felix ! cchibere tristes
Tu potes curas ! * Cerealis hauftus
Eft tibi, præsens relevare diro
Pectora luctu.
Corticem aftriétum pice cum reducis,
Audin' ingenti tonat ut boatu
Fumidus! summo ruit ut lagenæ
Spumeus ore !
Cernis ! ut vitro nitet invidendo
Aureum nectar! comes it facetus
Cui jocus, quocum Venus & Cupido
Spicula tingunt,
Jam memor charæ, cyathum coronas,
Virginis :---plenum video !---ah! caveto
Dextra nè quasset malè, dum laborat
Pondere dulci!
* Anglicè bottled ale.
Euge!---ficcâsti benè, fortiterque !---
Hinc adeft curæ medicina ! suaves
Hinc tibi fomni, & tibi fuaviora
Somnia somnis !
Hos bibens succos, nihil invidebis
Italis, quamvis cyathi Falerno
Dulcè nigrescant, neque Gallicanæ
Laudibus uvæ!
Hic Johannensi latitans suili
Grunnio, scribens fitiente labro,
Aut graves hauftus, inimica Musis
Pocula, duco.
THE wealth of Gyges I despise,
Gems are useless glittering toys.
Gold I leave, and such vain things,
To the low aim and pride of kings.
hair with unguents flow,
With rofy garlands crown my brow!
The present moment I enjoy,
Doom'd in the next, perhaps, to die !
Then, while the hour serenely shines,
Toss the gay die, and quaff thy wines :
But ever, in the genial hour,
To Bacchus the libation pour,
Lest death in wrath approach, and cry,
Man---taste no more the cup of joy.
* First published in the Gentleman's Magazine ; and afterwards inserted in the tranllations of Anacreon, published by Mr. Fawkes,
ODE
OD E XVI. The Power of B E A UTY.
SON
OME sing of Thebes, and some destroy
In lofty numbers haughty Troy.
I mourn, alas ! in plaintive strains,
My own captivity and chains !
No navy, rang'd in proud array,
No foot, no horseman, arm'd to flay,
My peace alarm ! Far other foes,
Far other hosts, create my woes :
Strange, dangerous hosts, that ambush'd lie,
In every bright love-darting eye!
Such as destroy, when beauty arms,
To conquer, dreadful in its charms!
O DE XX. To his MISTRES S.
TH
HE gods o'er mortals prove their sway ;
And steal them from theni selves away,
Transform’d by their almighty hands,
Sad Niobe an image stands ;
And Philomel, upborn on wings
Through air, her mournful story sings.
Would heaven, indulgent to my vow,
The happy change I wish allow :
The envy'd mirrour I would be,
That thou might'st always gaze on me;
And could my naked heart appear,
Thou'dst see thyself.--for thou art there !
O! were I made thy folding vest,
That thou might'st clasp me to thy breast !
Or turn'd into a fount, to lave
Thy naked beauties in my wave !
Thy bosom-cincture I would grow,
To warm those little hills of snow :
Thy ointment in rich fragrant streams
To wander o'er thy beauteous limbs.
Thy chain of thining pearl---to deck,
And close embrace thy graceful neck :
A very sandal I would be
To tread on-if trod on by thee!
A'
LAS! alas : I see each day
Steals me from myself away,
And every step of life I tread,
I speed to mingle with the dead.
How many years are past, my friends,
I know, and there my knowledge ends.
How many years are still in store,
I neither can, nor would explore.
Then, since the hours incessant fly,
They all shall find me crown'd with joy.
To those, my cares I here bequeath,
Who meanly die for fear of death :
And daily with affiduous strife
Contrive to live, accurs'd with life.
Then Care begone! I'd dance and play, "Hence with thy serious face away!
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