TO VENUS.
NCE more the Queen of Love invades
Late, with long ease and peaceful pleasures blest; Spare, fpare the wretch, that ftill has been thy flave, And let my former service have
The merit to protect me to the grave.
Much am I chang'd from what I once have been,
When under Cynera the good and fair,
With joy I did thy fetters wear,
Blefs'd in the gentle fway of an indulgent queen.
Stiff and unequal to the labour now,
With pain my neck beneath thy yoke I bow.
Why doft thou urge me still to bear? Oh! why
Doft thou not much rather fly
To youthful breafts, to mirth and gaiety?
Go, bid thy fwans their gloffy wings expand,
And swiftly through the yielding air
To Damon thee their goddess bear,
Worthy to be thy flave, and fit for thy command.
Noble, and graceful, witty, gay, and young,
Joy in his heart, love on his charmirg tongue.
Skill'd in a thousand foft prevailing arts,
With wondrous force the youth imparts
Thy power to unexperienc'd virgins hearts.
Far fhall he stretch the bounds of thy command;
And if thou fhalt his wishes bless,
Beyond his rivals with fuccefs,
In gold and marble fhall thy ftatues stand.
Beneath the facred fhade of Odel's wood,
Or on the banks of Oufe's gentle flood,
With odorous beams a temple he fhall raise,
For ever facred to thy praife,
Till the fair stream, and wood, and love itself decays.
There while rich incenfe on thy altar burns,
Thy votaries, the nymphs and fwains,
In melting foft harmonious strains,
Mix'd with the fofter flutes, fhall tell their flames by
As love and beauty with the light are born,
So with the day thy honours fhall return;
Some lovely youth, pair'd with a blufhing maid,
A troop of either fex fhall lead,
And twice the Salian measures round thy altar tread.
Thus with an equal empire o'er the light,
The Queen of Love, and God of Wit,
Together rife, together fit:
But, goddess, do thou stay, and bless alone the night.
There may'ft thou reign, while I forget to love;
No more falfe beauty shall my paffion move;
Nor fhall my fond believing heart be led,
By mutual vows and oaths betray'd,
To hope for truth from the protesting maid.
With love the fprightly joys of wine are fled;
The rofes too fhall wither now,
That us'd to fhade and crown my brow,
And round my chearful temples fragrant odours shed.
But tell me, Cynthia, fay, bewitching fair,
What mean these fighs? why steals this falling tear?
And when my ftruggling thoughts for paffage ftrove, Why did my tongue refufe to move;
Tell me can this be any thing but love?
Still with the night my dreams my griefs renew,
Still the is prefent to my eyes,
And still in vain I, as the flies,
O'er woods, and plains, and feas, the fcornful maid pursue.
HORACE, BOOK I. EPISTLE IV. IMITATED.
HORNHILL, whom doubly to my heart commend
The critic's art, and candour of a friend,
Say what thou doft in thy retirement find,
Worthy the labours of thy active mind;
Whether the tragic Mufe infpires thy thought,
To emulate what moving Otway wrote. ;
Or whether to the covert of fome grove
Thou and thy thoughts do from the world remove,
Where to thyself thou all thofe rules doft fhow,
That good men ought to practise, or wise know.
For fure thy mafs of men is no dull clay,
But well-inform'd with the celeftial ray.
The bounteous gods, to thee compleatly kind,
In a fair frame inclos'd thy fairer mind;
*Who fought the duel with Sir Cholmondley Deering.
And though they did profufely wealth bestow,
They gave thee the true ufe of wealth to know.
Could ev'n the nurfe with for her darling boy
A happiness which thou dost not enjoy :
What can her fond ambition ask beyond
A foul by wifdom's nobleft precepts crown'd?
To this fair fpeech, and happy utterance join'd,
T'unlock the fecret treasures of the mind,
And make the bleffing common to mankind.
On these let health and reputation wait,
The favour of the virtuous and the great:
A table chearfully and cleanly fpread,
Stranger alike to riot and to need:
Such an estate as no extremes may know,
A free and juft difdain for all things elfe below.
Amidft uncertain hopes, and anxious cares,
Tumultuous ftrife, and miferable fears,
Prepare for all events thy conftant breast,
And let each day be to thee as thy last.
That morning's dawn will with new pleasure rife,
Whofe light fhall unexpected bless thy eyes.
Me, when to town in winter you repair,
Battening in ease you 'll find, fleek, fresh, and fair;
Me, who have learn'd from Epicurus' lore,
To fnatch the bleffings of the flying hour,
Whom every Friday at the Vine* you'll find
His true disciple, and your faithful friend.
HILE rich in brightest red the blushing Rose
Her fresheft opening beauties did difclofe;
Her, the rough Thistle from a neighbouring field,
With fond defires and lover's eyes beheld:
Straight the fierce plant lays by his pointed darts,
And wooes the gentle flower with softer arts.
Kindly he heard, and did his flame approve,
And own'd the warrior worthy of her love.
Flora, whofe happy laws the seasons guide,
Who does in fields and painted meads prefide,
And crowns the gardens with their flowery pride,
With pleasure faw the wishing pair combine,
To favour what their Goddefs did defign,
And bid them in eternal Union join.
Henceforth, fhe faid, in each returning year,
One ftem the Thistle and the Rofe fhall bear :
The Thiftle's lafting grace, thou, O my Rofe ! fhalt be,
The warlike Thiftle's arms, a furé defence to thee.
DONE FROM THE LATIN OF J. GERHARD
ANY that once, by Fortune's bounty rear'd, Amidst the wealthy and the great appear'd; Have wifely from thofe envy'd heights declin'd, Have funk to that juft level of mankind, Where nor too little nor too much gives the true peace of mind.
* In his Meditationes Sacræ.
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