L O DE IV. ON THE UNCERTAINTY OF FORTUNE. A TRANSLATION. E AVE off unfit complaints, and clear. From fighs your breaft, and from black clouds When the fun fhines not with his wonted cheer, The fun to-day rides drowfily, That good fare should with mingled dangers flow. Who drave his oxen yesterday, Doth now over the noblest Romans reign, The yoke which from his oxen he had ta’en : The morning's eye beholds him greatest now. And And with the crowned axe, which he Had rul'd the world, go back and prune fome tree; With his own fafces he fhall make him fires. D E V. IN COMMENDATION OF THE TIME WE LIVE UNDER, THE REIGN OF OUR GRACIOUS KING CHARLES. CURS URST be that wretch (death's factor fure) who Dire fwords into the peaceful world, and taught The fpade, the plow-fhare, and the rake). Man's life t' epitomize! Then men (fond men, alas !) ride post to th' grave, And cut those threads which yet the Fates would fave Then Charon fweated at his trade, And had a larger ferry made Then, then the filver hair, Frequent before, grew rare. Then Revenge, married to Ambition, To men, before, was found, Ta In what plain, or what river, hath not been With blood's lofs paler grew. Such griefs, nay worse than these, we now should feel, He to our land bleft Peace doth bring, Unborn till Charles's reign! Where, dreaming chemicks! is your pain and coft? The iron-age of old 'O DE VI. UPON THE SHORTNESS OF MAN'S LIFE. M2 ARK that fwift arrow! how it cuts the air, If thou canst call it back, or stay it there. Fool! Fool! 'tis thy life, and the fond archer thou. I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday, Befides repentance, what canft find Our life is carried with too ftrong a tide ; A doubtful cloud our fubftance bears, Each day doth on a winged whirlwind ride. But his paft life who without grief can fee ; But fays to fame, Thou art mine heir, To out-live Neftor in a day. AN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO CAMBRIDGE. JICHOLS, my better self! forbear; NICE For, if thou tell'st what Cambridge pleasures are,, I fhall, in mind at least, a truant be. Tell me not how you feed your With dainties of philofophy; In Ovid's nut I. fhall not find The tafte once pleased me. mind O tell O tell me not of logick's diverse cheer! Tell me not how the waves appear I fhall contemn the troubled Thames On her chief holiday; ev'n when her streams And graces with fresh paint that day; feet: Why do I ftay then? I would meet Thee there, but plummets hang upon my my chief wish to live with thee, But not till I deserve thy company : 'Tis Till then, we'll fcorn to let that toy, Friendship and wit, thy better parts. Though envious Fortune larger hindrance brings, MISCEL |