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No nipping white is feen,

But all the Fields are clad with pleasant Green,
And only fragrant Dews now fall:

The Ox forfakes his once warm Stall

To bask in th' Sun's much warmer beams; The Plowman leaves his fire and his fleep, Well pleas'd to whistle to his lab'ring Teams; Whilft the glad Shepherd pipes to's frisking Sheep. Nay tempted by the fmiling Sky Wreckt Merchants quit the shore,

Refolving once again to try

The Wind and Seas Almighty power;

Chufing much rather to be dead than poor.
Upon the flow'ry Plains,

Or under fhady Trees,

The Shepherdeffes and their Swains Dance to their rural Harmonies; They fteal in private to the covert Groves,

There finish their well heighten❜d Loves. The City Dame takes this pretence (Weary of Husband and of Innocence) To quit the fmoak and business of the Town, And to her Country-house retires, Where the may bribe, then grafp fome brawny Clown, Or her appointed Gallant come

To feed her loose defires;

Whilft the poor Cuckold by his sweat at home
Maintains her Luft and Pride,

Bleft as he thinks in fuch a beauteous Bride.
Since all the World's thus gay and free,
Why should not we?

Let's then accept our Mother Nature's treat,
And please our felves with all that's sweet;
Let's to the fhady Bowers,

Where Crown'd with gaudy flowers

We'll drink and laugh away the gliding hours. Truft me, Thyrfis, the grim Conqueror Death With the fame freedom fnatches a King's breath,

He huddles the poor fetter'd Slave,
To's unknown Grave.

Tho' each day we with coft repair,

He mocks our greatest skill and utmost care; Nor loves the Fair, nor fears the Strong. And he that lives the longeft, dies but young; And once depriv'd of light

We're wrapt in mifts of endless Night. Once come to thofe dark Cells of which we're told So many ftrange Romantick Tales of Old, (In things unknown Invention's juftly bold) No more fhall Mirth and Wine

Our loves and wits refine;

No more fhall you your Phyllis have,
Phyllis fo long you've priz❜d :
Nay she too in the Grave

Shall lye like us despis'd.

The IV. ODE of the

SECOND BOOK of HORACE

English'd by Mr. Duke.

Lush not, my Friend, to own the Love

B which thy fair Captive's Eyes do move:

Achilles once the Fierce, the Brave,
Stoopt to the Beauties of a Slave;
Tecmeffa's Charms could over-power
Ajax her Lord and Conquerour ;
Great Agamemnon, when fuccefs
Did all his Arms with Conqueft blefs;
When Hector's fall had gain'd him more
Than ten long rolling years before,
By a bright Captive Virgin's Eyes
E'en in the midft of Triumph dyes.

You know not to what mighty Line
The lovely Maid may make you join ;
See but the Charms her Sorrow wears,
No common Caufe could draw fuch Tears;
Thofe ftreams fure that adorn her fo
For lofs of Royal Kindred flow:
Oh! think not fo divine a thing
Could from the Bed of Commons spring;
Whofe Faith could fo unmov'd remain,
And fo averfe to fordid gain,

Was never born of any Race
That might the nobleft Love difgrace.
Her blooming Face, her fnowy Arms,
Her well fhap'd Leg, and all her Charms
Of her Body and her Face,

1, poor I, may fafely praife.

Sufpect not Love the youthful Rage
From Horace's declining Age,
But think remov'd by forty years,
All his flames and all thy fears.

The VIII. ODE of the

SECOND BOOK of HORACE.

English'd by Mr. Duke.

F ever any injur'd Power

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By which the false Barine fwore,
Falfe, fair Barine, on thy head

Had the leaft mark of Vengeance shed ;
If but a Tooth or Nail of thee

Had fuffer'd by thy Perjury,

I should believe thy Vows; but thou
Since perjur'd doft more charming grow.

Of all our Youth the Publick care,
Not half fo falfe as thou art Fair.
It thrives with thee to be forfworn
By thy dead Mother's facred Urn,
By Heaven and all the Stars that shine
Without, and every God within :
Venus hears this, and all the while
At thy empty Vows does fmile,
Her Nymphs all smile, her little Son
Does fmile, and to his Quiver run;
Does fmile, and fall to whet his Darts,
To wound for thee fresh Lovers hearts.
See all the Youth does thee obey,
Thy train of flaves grows every day;
Nor leave thy former Subjects thee,
Tho' oft they threaten to be free,
Tho' oft with Vows falfe as thine are,
Their forfworn Mistress they forswear.
Thee every careful Mother fears
For her Son's blooming tender years;
Thee frugal Sires, thee the young Bride
In Hymen's Fetters newly ty'd,
Left thou detain by ftronger Charms
Th' expected Husband from her Arms.

HORACE and LYDIA.

W

The IX. ODE.

English'd by Mr. Duke.

HORACE.

Hilft I was welcome to your heart,
In which no happier Youth had part
And full of more prevailing Charms,
Threw round your Neck his dearer Arms,

I flourish'd richer and more bleft
Than the great Monarch of the East.
LYDIA.

Whilft all thy Soul with me was fill'd,
Nor Lydia did to Chloe yield,

Lydia, the celebrated Name,

The only Theme of Verse and Fame,
I flourish'd more than fhe renown'd,
Whofe Godlike Son our Rome did found,
HORACE.

Me Chloe now, whom every Mufe,
And every Grace adorn, fubdues;
For whom I'd gladly dye, to fave
Her dearer Beauties from the Grave.
LYDIA.

Me lovely Calais does fire

With mutual flames of fierce defire;
For whom I twice would dye, to fave
His Youth more precious from the Grave.
HORACE.

What if our former Loves return,
And our first fires again fhould burn?
If Chloe's banish'd to make way

For the forfaken Lydia?

LYDIA.

Tho' he is fhining as a Star, Conftant and kind as he is Fair; Thou light as Cork, rough as the Sea, Yet I would live, would dye with thee,

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