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The eleventh ODE of the first Book of Ho race, imitated. To the Honourable TнoMAS M--RR--Y, Efq;

1.

END not to Ayres-ftreet, To м, your Way,

В'

To Fortunetelling Dame,

For Hearts or Watches gone aftray,

Nor feek your Fate in vain.

2.

Why hou'd you ask what fated End

Kind Heav'n will beftow

On you or me? What they intend

Tis not for us to know.

3.

If we fhall live ftill Winters more,

(Which now with stormy Blast

Drives British Ships on Sylla's Shore)

Or this fhall be our last.

What'er all-powerful Heav'n ordains
With equal Mind endure,

The greatest Woes, the fharpeft Pains,

With Claret you may cure.

5.

Hope not too much, nor yet defpair

About your Future State

of

Nor let to Morrow be your Care not a f

Since That may come too late amoy Muthtok

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Enjoy the Hours e'er they passion now blot IW
Still envious Time fteals on,liw n'vol ba
The Moment that we charge the Glass, Loy O

E'er we can Toaft, is gone.o: zu T

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On Mrs. Mt's being dangerously Ill of a Fever.

W

HAT fatal News invades our wretched

(Ears!

Is Mt fick, or is it but our Fears?
Mortal fhe cannot be who fo Divine appears.
But oh! She is, e'en fhe, O dread Surprize!
Who drew the wond'ring Croud's admiring Eyes,
And the gay World infpired expiring lies!
What Subject now fhall barren Poets chufe?

What Subject now is worthy o' the Mufe?

But one, alas! is left 'em for their Verfe, (Unwelcome Task!) t'adorn her mournful Herfe. What dire Events fhall we prognofticate

From this fure Omen of approaching Fate?

E'er Diffolution, NATURE's Stream we've read,

Shall back return upon it's Fountain Head :

Things we behold, this to Remembrance bring,

For Lillies die, and Rofes in the Spring.

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That ev'n the World is, we from hence may prove,

Diffolving now, at leaft the World of LOVE.

Such M

t is, and if she so appear

Juftly, that World's approaching Fate we fear,

Whofe Lights (fuch Mt's Eyes) are nigh ob (fcured,

Yet burn with Fire, not ev'n to be endured

By them, which ne'er 'till now they knew,
(Their Native Colour ftain'd with Sanguine Hew.)
Thofe Streams,which thro' their azure Chanels ftray'd,
And gently paffing fcorching Heats allay'd;
To boiling Tides of liquid Fire now turn,
Flow o'er the whole, and as they flow they burn.
Yet hold ye Fates, and this dire Stroke fufpend,
Left thus confumed, this fair Creation end..
Fain wou'd I ftop thofe all-difcifive Hands,
But rival Heav'n, the fatal Work commands.
Gods envious even of us mortal Elves,
Refolve to take this Bleffing to themselves:

And tho' 'tis they who all our Pleafures cross,
Yet wou'd they feem to mourn with us our Lofs;

Whilst

Whilft they in Tears, their Vernal Show'rs employ, They weep indeed, but then they weep for Joy. Not fo the poor defpairing CUPID weeps,

HE grieves indeed, and conftant Vigils keeps;

At once he fans, and from rude Blafts of Air, With Wings expanded, guards the lab'ring FAIR. Blind as he is, he fees too plain his Fate,

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By fell Difeafe ufurp'd, beholds his Throne,
And viewing Mt's Danger, learns his own.
What Means are left amidst these dread Alarms?
Difeafe has feized his Magazine of Arms;

But in Referve had he one Arrow still,

Which Wing'd by him, cou'd make th' Ufurper feel;
Yet to diveft her, that were not the Way,

Difeafe, thus charm'd, wou'd make a longer Stay.
Oh! fee! behold! defcending from Above,

Where PALLAS comes, that Enemy to LOVE;
She comes to triumph in her latest Breath,

And bind the Conqueror with a Laurel-Wreath.

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