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When, embarrass’d with baubles and toys,
Thou’rt set out so enormously fine, Over-doing thy purpose destroys,
And to please thou hast too much design: Little know'st thou, how beauty beguiles,
How alluring the innocent eye; What sweetness in natural smiles,
And what charms in simplicity lye. .
Thee Nature with beauty has clad, - With genuine ornaments dress’d; Nor can Art an embellishment add
To set off what already is beft:
Bid the toilet be far set apart,
That impertinent Abigail, Art.
ANACREON. OD E III.
Translated by the Same. IN the dead of the night, when with labour oppress’a 1 All mortals enjoy the calm blessing of rest, Cupid knock'd at my door, I awoke with the noise, And “Who is it (I call’d) that my sleep thus destroys ?”
“ You need not be frightend, he answered mild, “Let me in; I'm a little unfortunate child ; “ 'Tis a dark rainy night ; and I'm wet to the skin; “And my way I have loft; and do, pray, let me in.”
I was mov'd with compassion; and striking a light,
I stirr'd up my fire, and close by its side
He from wet and from cold was no sooner at eale, But taking his bow up, he said, “ If you please “We will try it ; I would by experiment know “ If the wet hath not damag'd the string of my bow.”
Forthwith from his quiver an arrow he drew,
Away skipp'd the urchin, as brisk as a bee, And laughing, “ I wish you much joy friend, quoth he: “My bow is undamag'd, for true went the dart; “ But you will have trouble enough with your heart.”
An Imitation of HORACE, Book III. Ode 2.
Anguftam amice, &c.
With want, and rigid college laws
Let him inur'd betimes, comply; Firm to religion's sacred cause,
The learned combat let him try;
Let him her envied praises tell,
And all his eloquence disclose The fierce endeavours to repel,
And still the tumult of her foes.
Him early form'd, and season'd young,
Subtle opposers soon will fear, And tremble at his artful tongue,
Like Parthians at the Roman spear.
Grim death, th' inevitable lot
Which fools and cowards strive to Ay, Is with a noble pleasure fought
By him who dares for truth to die.
With purest lustre of her own
Exalted Virtue ever shines, Nor as the vulgar smile or frown . Advances now, and now declines.
A glorious A glorious and immortal prize,
She on her hardy son bestows,
Though pain, and toil, and death oppose:
A Reply to a Copy of Verses made in Imitation
of Book III. Ode 2. of Horace.
Anguftam amice pauperiem pati, &c.
And sent by Mr. TITLEY to Dr. Bentley.
By Dr. Bentley.
H O strives to mount Parnafsus' hill,
And thence poetic laurels bring,