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Ye bleft remains of that illuftrious age!
Might I with you my peaceful days live o'er,
No falfe corrupt delights our thoughts should move,
H OR A CE,
BOOK I ODE XXII.
Integer vitæ, fcelerifque purus,
"Non eget Mauri jaculis, neque arcu," &c.
Wrapp'd in thick clouds, and shades of night,
There brood on guilt, fix there a loath'd embrace,
Dreams, goblins, and imagin'd fprights,
Thy visionary tribe, thy black and monftrous race. Go, haunt the flave that ftains his hands in gore Poffefs the perjur'd mind, and rack the Ufurer more, Than his oppreffion did the poor before.
Vainly, you feeble wretches, you prepare
The poifon'd shaft, the Parthian bow, and fpear
Which pois'd and guided from his ear
He hurls impetuous through the field :
In vain you lace the helm, and heave in vain the
He's only fafe, whofe armour of defence
Is adamantine innocence.
If o'er the fteepy Alps he go,
Vaft mountains of eternal fnow,
Or where fam'd Ganges and Hydafpes flow;
If o er parch'd Libya's defart land,
Where threatening from afar
Th' affrighted traveller
Encounters moving hills of fand;
No fenfe of danger can disturb his rest;
He fears no human force, nor favage beast; Impenetrable courage fteels his manly breaft. IV.
Thus, late within the Sabine grove,
While free from care, and full of love,
I raise my tuneful voice, and stray
A grizly wolf, with glaring eye,
View'd me unarm'd, yet pafs'd unhurtful by.
Numidia never faw a more prodigious beast;
Where the stern lion hakes his knotted mane,
And roars aloud for prey, and fcours the fpacious plain.
Place me where no foft breeze of fummer wind
Where no refreshing warmth e'er durft invade, 45
In all his hoary robes array'd,
And rattling forms of hail, and noisy tempests beat.
HOR A С Е,
BOOK II. ODE XVI.
TO GROS PH US.
"Otium Divos rogat in patenti
"Prenfus gæo," &c.
IMITATED IN PARAPHRASE.
NDULGENT Quiet! power serene,
Say, in what folitary grove,
Within what hollow rock, or winding cell,
By human eyes unfeen,
Like fome retreated Druid doft thou dwell?
And why, illufive goddess! why,
When we thy manfion would furround,
Why doft thou lead us through inchanted ground, To mock our vain research, and from our wishes fly?
The wandering failors, pale with fear,
When the tempeftuous fea runs high,
And when, through all the dark benighted fky, 15
No friendly moon or stars appear
To guide their steerage to the fhore:
Renounce the warrior's tempting praise,
And buy thee, if thou might'st be sold, With gems, and purple vests, and stores of plunder'd
But neither boundless wealth, nor guards that wait Around the conful's honour'd gate,
Nor anti-chambers with attendants fill'd,
The mind's unhappy tumults can abate,
Or banish fullen cares, that fly
Across the gilded rooms of ftate,
And their foul nefts, like fwallows, build
Close to the palace-roofs, and towers that pierce the sky.
Much lefs will Nature's modeft wants fupply;
And happier lives the homely swain,
His few paternal goods enjoys,
Nor with Fear's tormenting pain
His hovering fleeps deftroys.