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A S O N G.


WAY, let nought to love displeasing

My Winifreda, move thy fear,
Let nought delay the heav'nly blessing,
Nor squeamish pride; nor gloomy care.

What tho' no grants of royal donors

With pompous titles grace our blood,
We'll shine in more substantial honours,
And to be noble we'll be good.

What tho' from Fortune's lavish bounty

No mighty treasures we poffess,
We'll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.

Still fhall each kind returning season,

Sufficient for our wishes give,
For we will live a life of reason,
And that's the only life to live.

Our name, whilst virtue thus we tender,

Shall sweetly found where'er 'tis spoke,
And all the great ones much shall wonder,
How they admire such little folk.
S 2

VI. Thro'

Thro' youth and age in love excelling,

We'll hand in hand together tread,
Sweet smiling Peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet smiling babes our bed.

How hould I love the pretty creatures,

Whilft round my knees they fondly clung,
To see 'em look their mother's features,
To hear 'em lisp their mother's tongue.

And when with envy time transported

Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,

And I go wooing in my boys.


An ODĖ, written in 1717, on occasion of the

Duke of MARLBOROUGH's Apoplexy.


WEFUL hero, Marlb'rough rise :

Sleepy charms I come to break :
Hither turn thy languid eyes :

Lo! thy Genius calls : awake!

II. Well

Well survey this faithful plan,

Which records thy life's great story;
'Tis a short, but crowded span,
Full of triumphs, full of glory.

One by one thy deeds review, .

Sieges, battles, thick appear ;
Former wonders, lost in new,
Greatly fill each pompous year.

IV. .
This is Blenheim's crimson field,

Wet with gore, with flaughter ftain'd!
Here retiring squadrons yield,
And a bloodless wreath is gain'd !

v. Ponder in thy godlike mind

All the wonders thou haft wrought; Tyrants, from their pride declin’d,

Be the subje&t of thy thought!


Reft thee here, while life may last:

Th’ utmost bliss, to man allow'd,
Is to trace his actions past,
And to own them great and good,


-a mortal born! Swift the fading scenes remove. Let them pass with noble scorn, Thine are worlds, which roll above. § 3

VIII. Poets,

But 'tis gone

Poets, prophets, heroes, kings,

Pleas'd, thy ripe approach forefeę
Men, who acted wond'rous things,
Tho' they yield in fame to thee.

Foremost, in the patriot-band,

Shining with distinguish'd day,
See thy friend, Godolphin ftand!
See! he beckons thee away.

Yonder seats and fields of light

Let thy ravish'd thought explore ;
Wishing, panting for thy Aight!

Half an angel; man no more.

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**************************** TRANSLATIONS from HORACE,

By Mr. MARRIOTT, of Trinity-Hall, Cambridge.

Book I, Ode XVIII. Invitation to his Mistress.


FT Faunus leaves Arcadia's plain,

"And to the Sabine hill retreats :
He guards my pocks from rushing rain,
From piercing winds, and scorching heats.


Where lurks the thyme, or shrubs appear,

My wanton kids securely play ;
My goats no pois'nous serpent fear,

Safe wand'ring thro' the woodland way.

No hostile wolf the fold invades;

Ustica's pendent rocks rebound
My song; and all the sylvan shades,

By Echo taught, return the found.

The gods my verse propitious hear,

My head from every danger shield:
For you, o'erflows the bounteous year,

And Plenty's horn hath heap'd my field.

Responsive to the Teian ftring,

Within the sun-defended vale,
Here, softly warbling you shall fing

Each tender, tuneful, am'rous tale.


No rival, here, shall burft the bands
That wreathe


charmer's beauteous hair, Nor seize her weakly {truggling hands;

But Love and Horace guard the fair.

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