IV. Vain man! that in a narrow space 45 To distant climates, and a foreign air? Fool! from thyfelf thou canst not fly, Thyself, the fource of all thy care. So flies the wounded ftag, provok'd with pain, Bounds o'er the spacious downs in vain ; The feather'd torment sticks within his fide, And from the fmarting wound a purple tide Marks all his way with blood, and dyes the graffy plain. V. But fwifter far is execrable Care 50 55 Than flags, or winds that through the skies Thick-driving fnows and gather'd tempeits bear; Pursuing Care the failing fhip out-flies, Climbs the tall veffel's painted fides; Nor leaves arm'd fquadrons in the field, But with the marching horfemen rides, And dwells alike in courts and camps, and makes all places yield. VI. Then, fince no ftate's completely bleft, With gentle mirth, and wifely gay Enjoy at least the prefent day, And leave to fate the reft. бо 65 Nor Nor with vain fear of ills to come The hero fell by fudden death ; While Tithon to a tedious wafting age Drew his protracted breath. And thus old partial Time, my friend, Perhaps unafk'd to worthless me 70 Thofe hours of lengthen'd life may lend Which he'll refufe to thee. VII. Thee shining wealth and plenteous joys furround, 75 80 Thy harness'd fteeds with sprightly voice Make neighbouring vales and hills rejoice, While fmoothly thy gay chariot flies o'er the fwift meafur'd way. To me the ftars, with lefs profufion kind, An humble fortune have affign'd, And no untuneful lyric vein, But a fincere contented mind, That can the vile malignant crowd difdain. 85 THE THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE. FROM THE FRENCH. ONCE, on a folemn feftal day Held by th' immortals in the skies, Flora had fummon'd all the deities Ye fhining graces of my courtly train, Yet, my increafing glory to maintain, A queen I'll choose with spotlefs honour fair, Let me your counsel and affiftance ask, The deities that flood around, At first return'd a murmuring found; The vileft thistle that infefts the plain "Tis fix'd-and hear how I'll the caufe decide. Deep in a venerable wood Where oaks, with vocal skill endued, A grotto's feen where nature's art A lovely wood-nymph once did dwell. 25 30 35 A Dryad bore the beauteous nymph, a Sylvan was her fire. Chafte, wife, devout, fhe ftill obey'd With humble zeal Heaven's dread commands, 40 And oft before our altars pray'd; Pure was her heart, and undefil'd her hands. She's dead-and from her sweet remains The wondrous mixture I would take, 45 This much defir'd, this perfect flower to make. Affift, and thus with our transforming pains, We'll dignify the garden-beds, and grace our favourite plains. Th' Th' applauding deities with pleasure heard, A bufy face the god of gardens wore ; From various sweets th' exhaling fpirits drew; Of richest fruits a plenteous ftore ; And Vefta promis'd wondrous things to do. Of Smiles and Graces: the plump god of wine In filence, and with awe profound. Exert thy great creative power! Let this fair corpse be mortal clay no more; Transform it to a tree, to bear a beauteous flower Scarce had the goddess spoke; when fee! 50 55 60 65 70 The nymph's extended limbs the form of branches wear: Behold the wondrous change, the fragrant tree! 75 Heavens ! |