Barbaro tandem fatiata, ludo
Ægidem ponas, gladiumque; caftam
Virginem dirus gladius, feroxque
Flagitas noftræ quid agunt camœnæ ?
Uror infelix! mihi me Belinda
Surripit! Collum O! niveum, O! Puellæ
Ah! ut obliquo afpiciens ocello
Torruit pectus ?---neque tu furoris
Infcius blandi! tibi fævit imis
Tu tamen felix! cohibere triftes
Tu potes curas!* Cerealis hauftus
Eft tibi, præfens relevare diro
Corticem aftrictum pice cum reducis,
Audin' ingenti tonat ut boatu
Fumidus! fummo ruit ut lagenæ
Cernis! ut vitro nitet invidendo
Aureum nectar! comes it facetus
Cui jocus, quocum Venus & Cupido
Jam memor charæ, cyathum coronas,
Virginis ---plenum video !---ah! caveto
Dextra nè quaffet malè, dum laborat
Euge-ficcâfti benè, fortiterque !--
Hinc adeft curæ medicina! fuaves
Hinc tibi fomni, & tibi fuaviora
O DE XV. HAPPY LIFE.
THE wealth of Gyges I defpife,
Gems are ufelefs glittering toys.
Gold I leave, and fuch vain things,
To the low aim and pride of kings.
Let hair with unguents flow,
With rofy garlands crown my brow!
The prefent moment I enjoy,
Doom'd in the next, perhaps, to die!
Then, while the hour ferenely fhines,
Tofs the gay die, and quaff thy wines:
But ever, in the genial hour,
To Bacchus the libation pour,
Left death in wrath approach, and cry,
Man---tafte no more the cup of joy.
*First published in the Gentleman's Magazine; and afterwards inferted in the tranflations of Anacreon, published by Mr. Fawkes,
O DE XVI. The Power of BEAUTY.
SOME fing of Thebes, and fome 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 horfeman, arm'd to flay,
My peace alarm! Far other foes,
Far other hofts, create my woes :
Strange, dangerous hofts, that ambush'd lie,
In every bright love-darting eye!
Such as deftroy, when beauty arms,
To conquer, dreadful in its charms!
O DE XX. To his MISTRESS.
HE gods o'er mortals prove their sway ;
And fteal them from themselves away,
Transform'd by their almighty hands,
Sad Niobe an image stands
And Philomel, upborn on wings
Through air, her mournful story fings.
Would heaven, indulgent to my vow,
The happy change I wish allow :
The envy'd mirrour I would be,
That thou might'ft always gaze on me ;
And could my naked heart appear,
Thou'dft fee thyself---for thou art there!
M 2
O! were I made thy folding veft,
That thou might'ft clasp me to thy breaft!
Or turn'd into a fount, to lave
Thy naked beauties in my wave!
Thy bofom-cin&ture I would grow,
To warm thofe little hills of fnow:
Thy ointment in rich fragrant ftreams
To wander o'er thy beauteous limbs.
Thy chain of fhining pearl---to deck,
And clofe embrace thy graceful neck:
very fandal I would be
To tread on-if trod on by thee !
O DE XXIV. IMITATED.
ALAS! alas: I fee 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 ftill in ftore,
I neither can, nor would explore.
Then, fince the hours inceffant fly,
They all fhall find me crown'd with joy.
To thofe, my cares I here bequeath,
Who meanly die for fear of death:
And daily with affiduous ftrife
Contrive to live, accurs'd with life.
Then Care begone! I'd dance and play,
Hence with thy ferious face away!
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