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ALAS! the powers of life decay!

My hairs are fall'n, or changed to grey!"
The fimiling 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 strikes my eye,
I foon must ficken, foon muft 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.

ON

O DE LXIV. To APOLLO.

NCE more, not uninfpir'd, the ftring
I waken, and fpontaneous fing:

No Pythic laurel-wreath I claim,
That lifts ambition into fame:
My voice unbidden tunes the lay :.
Some god impells, and I obey.

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Liften, ye groves!---The Muse prepares
A facred fong in Phrygian airs;
Such as the fwan expiring fings,
Melodious by Cäyfter's fprings,
While listening winds in filence hear,
And to the gods the mufic 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 Phoebus lov'd, but lov'd in vain!
How Daphne fled his guilty flame,
And fcorn'd a god that offer'd fhame.
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 clasp 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 ftrives my foul to fly?
I feel the pleafing frenzy ftrong,
Impulfive to fome nobler fong :
Let, let the wanton fancy play,

But guide it, left it devious ftray.

But oh! in vain, my Muse denies
Her aid, a flave to lovely eyes;

7

Suffice

Suffice it to rehearse the pains

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

CON

Belinda at the Bath,

The Coy. An Ode,

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Part of the Tenth Book of the Iliads of Homer. In

A Paftoral, to a young Lady upon her leaving, and

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The Forty-third Chapter of Ecclefiafticus. A Pa-

raphrafe,

The Conclufion of an Epilogue to Mr. Southern's
laft Play, called Money the Mistress,

The Parting, a Song, fet by Dr. Tudway, Profeffor
of Mulic in Cambridge,

ΙΟΣ

ibid.

!

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