She hears from every note a difcord rife,
Till, paufing, on her tongue the mufic dies;
She hates each object, every face offends;
In every with, her foul to Jafon fends;
With sharpen'd eyes the diftant lawns explores,
To find the object whom her foul adores:
At every whitper of the paffing air,

She ferts, the turns, and hopes her Jafon there:
Again the fondly looks, nor looks in vain;
He comes, her jafon fhines along the plain.
As wher, emerging from the watery way,
Refulgent Sirius lifts his golden ray,
He fines terrific! for his burning breath
Taints the ed air with revers, plagues, and death:
Such to the nymph approaching Jaton shows,
Bright author of unutterable woes;

Before her eyes a swimming darkness spread,
Her flush'd cheek glow'd, her very heart was dead:
No more her knees their wonted office knew,
Fix'd, without motion, as to earth she grew:
Her train recedes; the meeting lovers gaze
In filent wonder, and in fill amaze:

As two fair cedor on the mountain's brow,
Pride of the groves! with roots adjuning grow;
Erect and motionlefs the stately trees

Awhile remain, while feeps each fanning breeze,
Till from th' olian caves a blast unbound
Bends their proud tops, and bids their boughs re-
found;

Thus gazing they, till by the breath of love
Strongly at length infpir'd, they fpeak, they move:
With miles the love-hick virgin he furvey'd,
And fondly thus addreft the blooming maid:

}

Difmifs, my fair, my love, thy virgin fear; 'Tis Jafen fpeaks, no eremy is here! Man, haughty man, is of obdurate kind; But Jafon bears no proud, inhuman mind, By gentleft mahners, fofteft arts refin'd. Whom wouldst thou fly? Stay, lovely virgin, ftay! Speak every thought! far hence be tears away! Spark! and be truth in every accent found! Dread to deceive! we tread on hallow'd ground. By the ftern power who guards this facred place, By the illustrious authors of thy race;

By Jove, to whom the ftranger's caufe belongs, To whom the fuppliant, and who feels their wrongs; O guard me, fave me, in the needful hour! Without thy aid, thy Jafon is no more; To thee a fuppliant, in diftrefs I bend, To thee a stranger, and who wants a friend! Then, when between us feas and mountains rife, Medea's name fhall found in diftant fkies; All Greece to thee fhall owe her heroes fates, And blefs Med-a through her hundred states. The mother and the wife, who now in vain Roll their fad eyes fatt-ftreaming o'er the main, Shall thay their tears; the mother, and the wife, Shall blefs thee for a fon's or hulband's life! Fair Ariadne, fprung from Minos' bed, Sav'd the brave Thefeus, and with Thefeus fled, For fook her father, and her native plain, And itemm'd the tumults of the furging main; Yet the stern fire relented, and forgave The maid, whofe only crime it was to fave:

Temple of Hecate.

"Ev'n the juft Gods forgave: and now on high
A ftar fhe fhines, and beautifies the fky:
What bleflings then shall righteous heaven decree
For all our heroes fav'd, and fav'd by thee!
Heaven gave thee not, to kill, fo foft an air,
And cruelty fure never look'd fo fair!

He ceas'd; but left fo charming on her ear
His voice, that liftening still the feem'd to hear:
Her eye to earth the bends with modest grace,
And heaven in Tmiles is open'd in her face.
A glance he ftcals; but rofy blushes fpread
O'er her fair cheek, and then the drops her head:
A thousand words at once to speak she tries;
In vain-but speaks a thoufand with her eyes:
Trembling, the shining casket the expands,
Then gives the magic virtue to his hands;
And had the power been granted to convey
Her heart-had given her very heart away.

ficcâfti bene, fortiterque !adeft curæ medicina! fuaves ibi fomni, & tibi fuaviora

Pondere dulci !

SOME fing of Thebes, and fome destroy
In lofty numbers haughty Troy.

I mourn, alas! in plaintive strains,
My own captivity in chains!

No navy, rang'd in proud array,
No foot, no horfeman, arm'd to flay,
My peace alarm! Far other foes,
Far other hofts, create my woes :
Strange, dangerous hofts, that ambush'dlie
In every bright love-darting eye!
Such as deftroy, when beauty arms
To conquer, dreadful in its charms!

ODE XX. To his MISTRESS.

THE Gods o'er mortals prove their fway,

And steal them from themselves away:
Transform'd by their almighty hands,
Sad Niobe an image stands;

And Philomel, up-born on wings
Through air, her mournful ftory fings.
Would heaven, indulgent to my vow,
The happy change I with, allow;
The envy'd mirrour I would be,
That thou mightft always gaze on me!
And could my naked heart appear,
Thou 'dft fee thy felf-for thou art there!
O! were I made thy folding vest,
That thou might clafp me to thy breast!
Or turn'd into a fount, to lave
Thy naked beauties in my wave!
Thy botom-cincture I would grow,
To warm thofe little hills of fnow;
Thy ointment, in rich fragrant ftreams
To wander o'er thy beauteous limbs ;
Thy chain of thining pearl-to deck,
And clofe embrace thy graceful neck:
A very fandal I would be

To tread on-if trod on by thee!

How many years are still in ftore,
I neither can, nor would explore.
Then, fince the hours inceffant fly,
They all fhall find m crown'd with joy.
To thofe, my cares I here bequeath,
Who meanly die for fear of death,
And daily with affiduous ftrife
Contrive to live, accurs'd with life.

Then Care, begone! I'd dance and play ;
Hence, with thy ferious face away!
I'll laugh; and whilft gay wine inflames,
I'll court the laughter-loving dames;
And study to resign my breath
In eeftafy, and fmile in death.

ODE XXV. IMITATED.

BRING me, O bring th' enlivening draught,
Lenient of grief, and anxious thought.

Then Care retires, afham'd to show
His downcaft eye, and faded brow.
I banish bufinefs to the great,
To all that curse, yet covet fate.

Death haftes amain: then who would run
To meet what most he strives to fhun?
Or antedate the dreadful day
By cares, and aid the fiend to flay?
If tears could bribe his dreadful powers,
I'd weep, and bless the precious showers;
But let our lot be joy or woe,
Alike he fpeeds to ftrike the blow.

Then crown the bowl!-ye forrows, fly
To kill fome wretch who wants to die.

ODE XXXI. The pleafing PHRENSY,

NOW bring, by all the powers divine,
Bring me a bowl of rofy wine;
A mighty bowl of wine I crave:
When wine infpires, 'tis sweet to rave.

In frantic rage Alcmæon drew
His falchion, and his mother flew :
Oreftes in a furious mood

Raving fhed his † mother's blood.
Dreadful, fober madmen, they !—
None, harmless drunkard, none I flay:
The blood of grapes I only crave,
I quaff it, and 'tis fweet to rave.

Alcides, frantic, grafp'd his bow;
His quiver rattled, ftor'd with woe:
Stern Ajax fhook his glittering blade,
And broad his fevenfold shield display'd:
Dangerous madman! how he drew
His fword, and hofts in fancy flew !
I, peaceful 1, no falchion wield;
I bend no bow, I pone no fhield.
The flowery garland crowns my hairs,
My hand the powerful goblet bears;
The powerful goblet, nobly brave,
1 drain, and then 'tis fweet to rave.

ODE XXXVI.

TALK not to me of pedant rules;
I leave debates to learned fools,

Who folemnly in form advise;
At best, impertinently wife !

To me more pleafing precepts give,
And teach the fcience how to live;
To bury in the friendly draught

Sorrows that fpring from too much thought;
To learn foft leffons from the fair,
How life may glide exempt from care.

Alas! I'm old! I fee my head
With hoary locks by time o'erfpread :
Then inftant be the goblet brought,
To make me young-at reaft in thought.
Alas! inceffant fpeeds the day
When I muft mix with common clay;
When I must tread the difmal fhore,
And dream of love and wine no more.

ODE XXXVII. The SPRING

SEE, Winter's paft the seasons bring

Soft breezes with returning Spring i, At whofe approach the Graces wear Fresh honours in their flowing hair : The raging feas forget to roar, And, fmiling, gently kifs the shore : The fportive duck, in wanton play, Now dives, now rifes into day; The cranes from freezing climes repair, And failing float to warmer air: Th' enlivening funs in glory rife, And gaily dance along the fkies.

The clouds difperfe; or if in showers They fall, it is to wake the flowers: See, verdure cloaths the teeming earth & The olive struggles into birth: The fwelling grapes adorn the vine, And kindly promife future wine : Bleft juice! already I in thought Quaff an imaginary draught.

ODE XLVIII. GAY LIFE

GIVE me Homer's tuneful lyre,

Let the found my breast inspire ! But with no troublesome delight Of arms, and heroes flain in fight: Let it play no conquefts here, Or conquefts only o'er the fair!

Boy, reach that volume-book divine The ftatutes of the God of Wine ! He, legislator, ftatues draws; And I, his judge, inforce his laws; And, faithful to the weighty truft, Compel his vot'ries to be just : Thus, round the bowl impartial flies, Till to the fprightly dance we rife;

We frifk it with a lively bound,
Charm'd with the lyre's harmonious found;
Then pour forth, with an heat divine,
Rapturous fongs that breathe of wine.

Ble ffing the grapes that could difpenfe The happy, happy impudence.

ODE L. The happy Effects of WINE.

SEE fee the jolly god appears:

His hand a mighty goblet bears: With fparkling Wine full-charg'd it flows, The fovereign cure of human woes.

Wine gives a kind release from care, And courage to fubdue the fair; Inftructs the cheerful to advance Harmonious in the fprightly dance: Hail goblet rich with generous wines! See round the verge a vine-branch twines. See how the mimic clusters roll,

As ready to re-fill the bowl!

Wine keeps its happy patients free
From every painful malady;
Our beft phyfician all the year.
Thus guarded, no difeafe we fear,
No troublesome disease of mind,
Until another year grows kind,
And loads again the fruitful vine,
And brings again our health--new wine.

ODE LII. GRAPES; or the VINTAGE.

10! the vintage now is done!

And black'ned with th' autumnal fun
The grapes gay youths and virgins bear,
The sweeteft product of the year!
In vats the heavenly load they lay,
And swift the damfels trip away:
The youths alone the wine-prefs tread,
For wine 's by fkilful drunkards made:
Mean time the mirthful fong they raise,
Io! Bacchus, to thy praife!
And, eying the bleft juice, in thought
Quaff an imaginary draught.

Gaily, through wine, the old advance,
And doubly tremble in the dance :
In fancy'd youth they chant and play,
Forgetful that their locks are grey.
Through wine, the youth completes his loves ;
He haunts the filence of the groves:
Where, ftretch'd beneath th' emboweri
He fpies fome love-infpiring maid :
On beds of rofy fweets the lies,
Inviting fleep to close her
eyes:

Faft by her fide his limbs he throws,
Her hand he preffes-breathes his vows;
And cries, My love, my foul, comply
This inftant, or, alas! I die.

In vain the youth perfuafion tries!
In vain her tongue at least denies :
Then fcorning death through dull despair,
He ftorms th' unwilling willing fair ;

ODE LIII. The ROSE.

COME, lyrift, tune thy harp, and play
Refponfive to my vocal lay:
Gently touch it, while 1 fing
The Rofe, the glory of the spring.

To heaven the Rofe in fragrance flies,
The sweetest incenfe of the skies.
Thee, joy of earth, when vernal hours
Pour forth a blooming waste of flowers,
The gaily-fmiling Graces wear
A trophy in their flowing hair.
Thee Venus queen of beauty loves,
And, crown'd with thee, more graceful moves.
In fabled fong, and tuneful lays,
Their favourite Rofe the Mufes praife:
To pluck the Rofe, the virgin-train
With blood their pretty fingers stain,
Nor dread the pointed terrors round,
That threaten, and inflict a wound :
See how they wave the charming toy,
Now kifs, now (nuff the fragrant joy!

The Rofe the poets ftrive to praise,
And for it would exchange their bays ;
O! ever to the sprightly feat
Admitted, welcome, pleafing guest !
But chiefly when the goblet flows,
And Rofy wreaths adorn our brows!

Lovely fmiling Rofe, how sweet
The object where thy beauties meet !
Aurora with a blushing ray,
And Rofy fingers, fpreads the day :
The Graces more enchanting show
When Rofy blushes paint their fnow ;
And every pleas'd beholder feeks
The Rofe in Cytherea's cheeks.

When pain afflicts, or fick efs grieves,
Its juice the drooping heart relieves ;
And, after death, its odours fhed
A pleafing fragrance o'er the dead;
And when its withering charms decay,
And finking, fading, die away,
Triumphant o'er the rage of time,
It keeps the fragrance of its prime.

Come, lyrift, join to fing the birth
Of this fweet offspring of the earth!

When Venus from the ocean's bed
Rais'd o'er the waves her lovely head;
When warlike Pallas fprung from Jove,
Tremendous to the powers above;

Το grace the world, the teeming earth
Gave the fragrant infant birth,
And This,' the cry'd, J this ordain
'My favourite, queen of flowers to reign!'
But first th' affembled gods debate
The future wonder to create :
Agreed at length, from heaven they threw
A drop of rich, nectareous dew;
A bramble-item the drop receives,
And straight the Rofe adorns the leaves.
The gods to Bacchus gave the flower,
To grace him in the genial hoyr,

ODE LIV. Grown YOUNG.

WHEN fprightly youths my eyes survey,
I too am young, and I am gay;
In dance my active body fwims,
And fudden pinions lift my limbs.

Hafte, crown, Cybaba, crown my brows
With garlands of the fragrant rofe!
Hence, hoary age !-I now am strong,
And dance, a youth among the young.

Come then, my friends, the goblet drain! Bleft juice I feel thee in each vein ! See! how with active bounds I fpring! How strong, and yet how fweet, I fing! How bleft am I who thus excell In pleafing arts of trifling well!

ALAS! the powers of life decay!

My hairs are fall'n, or chang'd to grey !
The fmiling bloom, and youthful grace,
Is banish'd from my faded face!
Thus man beholds, with weeping eyes,
Himfelf half-dead before he dies.

For this, and for the grave, I fear,
And pour the never-ceafing tear!
A dreadful profpect ftrikes my eye;
I foon must ficken, foon måft die.

For this the mournful groan I shed ;
I dread-alas! the hour I dread !
What eye can ftedfaftly furvey
Death, and its dark tremendous way?
For foon as fate has clos'd our eyes,
Man dies for ever, ever dies!
All pale, all fenfelefs in the urn |
Never, ah! never to return.

ODE LXIV. To APOLLO
ONCE more, not uninfpir'd, the ftring
I waken, and spontaneous fing:
No Pythic laurel-wreath I claim,
That lifts ambition into fame :
My voice unbidden tunes the lay:
Some god impells, and I obey.
Liften ye groves -The Mufe prepares
A facred fong in Phrygian airs;
Such as the fwan expiring fings,
Melodious by Cayfter's springs,
While listening winds in filence hear,
And to the gods the music bear.

Celestial Mufe! attend, and bring
Thy aid, while I thy Phoebus fing:
To Phoebus and the Mufe belong
The laurel, lyre, and Delphic fong.

Begin, begin the lofty ftrain!
How Phœbus lov'd, but lov'd in vain ;
How Daphne fled his guilty flame,
And fcorn'd a god that offer'd shame.
With glorious pride his vows the hears ;
And heaven, indulgent to her prayers,
To laurel chang'd the nymph, and gave
Her foliage to reward the brave.

Ah! how, on wings of love convey'd,
He flew to clafp the panting maid!
Now, now o'ertakes!-but heaven deceives
His hope-he feizes only leaves.

Why fires my raptur'd breast ? ah! why, Ah! whither strives my foul to fly ? I feel the pleafing phrenfy strong, Impulfive to fome nobler fong : Let, let the wanton fancy play; But guide it, left it devious ftray.

But oh! in vain, my Mufe denies
Her aid, a flave to lovely eyes.
Suffice it to rehearse the pains

Of bleeding nymphs, and dying fwains ;
Nor dare to wield the fhafts of Love,
That wound the gods, and conquer Jove.
I yield! adieu the lofty ftrain!
I am Anacreon once again :
Again the melting fong 1 play,
A temper'd to the vocal lay:
See! fee! how with attentive ears
The youths imbibe the nectar'd airs
And quaff, in lowery fhades reclin'd,
My precepts, to regale the mind.