English'd by another Hand.
Hile I remain'd the Darling of your heart, And no encroaching Lover claim'd a part: Unrivall'd while my longing Arms I caft About your lovely neck and flender waste, And you to every one but me were chaste; I fcorn'd the lofty Perfian Monarch's ftate, And thought my self more happy, and as great.
While I enjoy'd you, and no fairer she
Had ftole your wandring heart away from me;
While Chloe feem'd not Lydia to out-fhine,
Nor gain'd a Conqueft that before was mine;
Not Roman Ilia more renown'd I thought,
Although a God her sweet embraces fought.
HORACE.
Now Thracian Chloe has fupply'd your place,
She charms me with her Mufick and her Face;
To fave her life, I with my own would part,
And freely give it as I gave my heart.
Fair Calais now, the sweet Messenian Boy,
Loves me, I him as equally enjoy ;
If by my dying he might longer live,
I'd give two lives, if I had two to give.
HORACE.
What if kind Venus fhould our hearts unite,
And force us to adore that Love we flight?
If Chloe with her golden locks fhould yield,
And banish'd Lydia fhould regain the Field?
fffo, tho' you are cruel and unkind,
Lefs to be trufted than the Seas or Wind ;
Tho' he fo kind, fo charming and so true,
I willingly would live, would die, with you.
The III. ELEGY of the
FIRST BOOK of PROPERTIUS.
English'd by Mr. Adams.
S on the Beach fad Ariadne lay,
A while the deaf Winds falfe Thefeus bore away;
As from the Rock Andromeda redeem'd,
More fweet, more fair in her firft flumber feem'd;
Or as the no lefs weary Bacchanal
Surpriz'd by fleep near fome fmooth ftream do's fall;
Such feem'd to me, fo was my Cynthia lay'd,
While breathing foft repose the lovely Maid
On her fair hand reclin'd her bending head;
When I well drunk through the too narrow Street
Dragg'd home at Mid-night my unfaithful Feet;
But as fh' appear'd fo charming to my view,`
Gently I preft the Bed, and near her drew;
Thinking (for fo much fenfe I ftill retain'd)
The Fort of Love might by furprise be gain'd;
Yet tho' commanded by a double fire,
Both by the flames of Wine, and hot Defire;
Tho' my lewd hand would naughtily have ftray'd,
And I would fain my Arms have ready made;
I durft not in the foft affault engage,
Dreading to wake her well experienc'd rage;
But fo my greedy eyes furvey'd her o'er,
The waking Argus watcht not la more;
Sometimes I loos'd the Chaplet from my Brow,
And try'd how fweetly 'twould on Cynthia's how,
Sometimes corrected her diforder'd hair,
That loosely wanton'd with the sportive Air;
And when the figh'd, I credulously fear'd
Some frightful Vision to my Love appear❜d.
'Till the bright Moon thro' the wide Window fhone,
(The Moon that would not fuddenly be gone ;)
She with her fubtile rays uncios'd her eyes,
When thus against me did her fury rise.
At length affronted by some tawdry Jade,
Kick'd out of doors, your forc'd into my Bed;
For where is it you spend my Nights? you come
Drawn off and impotent at Morning home;
I wish, base man! I with fuch nights you had,
As you force me! unhappy me! to lead!
Sometimes I with my Needle fleep deceive,
Then with my Lute my weariness relieve;
Then do I weep, and curfe your tedious ftay,
While in fome others Arms you melt away;
'Till fleep's soft wings my willing Eye-lids close,
Beguile my Sorrows, and my Cares compose.
Foda eft in Coitu & brevis voluptas.
IS but a fhort, but a filthy pleasure,
Let not us then as luftful Beafts do,
Slovenly, abruptly, blindly fall to:
Left we put out Love's gentle fire,
And he droop, and languish in impotent defire:
But thus we'll lye, and thus we'll kifs,
Thus, thus improve the lasting blifs!
There is no labour here, no fhame,
The folid Pleafure's ftill the fame,
Never, oh, never to be done,
Where Love is ever but begun.
EPISTLE
From Mr. Otway, to Mr. Duke. My much lov'd Friend, when thou art from my
How do I loath the day,and light defpife [eyes, Night, kinder Night's the much more welcome Guest, For though it bring fmall cafe, it hides at least; Or if e'er flumbers and my eyes agree, [thee. 'Tis when they're crown'd with pleafing dreams of Laft night methought(Heaven make the next as kind) Free as first innocence, and unconfin'd As our firft Parents in their Eden were, E'er yet condemn'd to eat their bread with care; We two together wander'd through a Grove, 'Twas green beneath us, and all fhade above, Mild as our Friendship, fpringing as our Love; Hundreds of chearful Birds fill'd every Tree, And fung their joyful Songs of Liberty; While through the gladfome Choir well pleas'd we And of our present valu'd State thus talk'd ; [walk'd, How happy are we in this fweet retreat? Thus humbly bleft, who'd labour to be great? Who for Preferments at a Court would wait, Where every Gudgeon's nibbling at the bait? What Fish of fenfe would on that fhallow lye, Amongst the little ftarving wriggling Frye, That throng and crowd each other for a Take Of the deceitful, painted, poifon'd Pafte; When the wide River he behind him fees, Where he may launch to Liberty and Eafe? VOL. I
No cares or business here difturb our hours,
While underneath these fhady, peaceful Bowers,
In cool delight and innocence we ftray,
And midft a thoufand Pleafures wafte the day;
Sometimes upon a River's bank we lye,
Where skimming Swallows o'er the furface fly,
Just as the Sun, declining with his Beams,
Kiffes, and gently warms the gliding Streams;
Amidit whofe current rifing Fishes play,
And rowl in wanton Liberty away.
Perhaps, hard by there grows a little Bush,
On which the Linnet, Nightingale, and Thrush,
Nightly their folemn Orgyes meeting keep,
And fing their Vefpers e'er they go to fleep:
There we two lye, between us may be's fpread
Some Book, few underftand, tho' many read:
Sometimes we Virgil's Sacred Leaves turn o'er,
Still wond'ring, and ftill finding caufe for more.
How Juno's rage did good Antas vex,
Then how he had revenge upon her Sex
In Dido's ftate, whom bravely he enjoy'd,
And quitted her as bravely too when cloy'd;
He knew the fatal danger of her Charms,
And fcorn'd to melt his virtue her Arms.
Next Nofus and Euryalus we admire,
Their gentle Friendship, and their martial Fire;
We praife their Valour 'caufe yet matcht by none,
And love their Friendship, fo much like our own.
But when to give our minds a Feaft indeed,
Horace, best known and lov'd by thee, we read;
Who can our Tranfports, or our Longings tell,
To tafte of pleasures, prais'd by him fo well?
With thoughts of Love, and Wine, by him we're fir'd,
Two things in fweet retirement much defir'd.
A generous Bottle and a lovesome She,
Are th' only Joys in Nature, next to Thee:
To which retiring quietly at night,
If (as that only can) to add delight,
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