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Horat. Ode 29. Book 3. Paraphras'd

in Pindarique Verfe; and infcrib'd to the Right Honourable Lawrence Earl of Rochester.


ancient ,

Defhending the Tucan Scepter fway'd,

Make hafte to meet the generous Wine,

Whose piercing is for thee delay'd : The rosie Wreath is ready made ;

And artful hands prepare The fragrant Syrian Oil, that shall perfume thy Hair.


When the Wine sparkles from afar,

And the well-natur'd Friend cries, come away; Make hafte, and leave thy Business and thy Care, No mortal int'reft can be worth thy stay.

Leave for a while thy costly Country Seat ;

And, to be great indeed, forget
The nauseous Pleasures of the Great :

Make haste and come :
Come and forsake thy cloying store ;

Thy Turret that surveys, from high,
"The smoke, and wealth, and noise of Rome;

And all the busie pageantry That wise Men (corn, and Fools adore : Come, give thy Soul a loose, and taste the Pleasures of


[the Poor. Sometimes ’tis grateful to the Rich, to try A short vicissitude, and fit of Poverty:

A favoury Dish, a homely Treat,
Where all is plain, where all is neat,

(ing fire.

Without the stately spacious Room,
The Persian Carpet, or the Tyrian Loom,
Clear up the cloudy Foreheads of the Great.

The Sun is in the Lion mounted high ;

The Syrian Star

Barks from afar ; And with his sultry Breath infects the Sky ; [fry. The Ground below is parch'd, the Heav'ns above us The Shepherd drives his fainting Flock, Beneath the covert of a Rock ; And seeks refreshing Rivulets nigh :

The Sylvans to their Shades retire, Those very Shades and Streams, new Shades and

Streams require;
And want a cooling breeze of Wind to fan the rage-

Thou, what befits the new Lord Mayor,
And what the City Faction dare,
And what the Gallick Arms will do,
And what the Quiver-bearing Foe,

Art anxiously inquisitive to know :
But God has, wisely, hid from human Sight

The dark Decrees of future Fate ;

And sown their Seeds in depth of Night ;
He laughs at all the giddy turns of State ;.
When Mortals search too soon, and fear too late,

Enjoy the present smiling Hour;
- And put it out of Fortune's Pow'r:
The tide of business, like the running Stream,

Is sometimes high, and sometimes low,
A quiet Ebb, or a tempestuous Flow,

And always in extream.
Now with a noiseless gentle Course
It keeps within the middle Bed;

Anon it lifts aloft the Head,
And bears down all before it, with impetuous force :

And Trunks of Trees come rowling down,

Sheep and their Folds together drown:
Both House and Homested into Seas are born,

And Rocks are from their old Foundations torn, And Woods made thin with Winds, their featter'd

VIII. [Honours mourn. Happy the Man, and happy he alone,

He, who can call to Day his own :

He who, fecure within, can fay
To Morrow do thy worst, for I have liv'd to Day.

Be fair, or foul, or rain, or fine,
The Joys I have poffeft, in fpight of Fate are mine.

Not Heav'n it felf upon the paft has Pow'r; But what has been, has been, and I have had my Hour.

Fortune, that with malicious Joy,

Does Man her Slave oppress,
Proud of her Office to deftroy,

Is seldom pleasd to blefs.
Still various and unconftant Aill;
But with an laclination to be ill;

Promotes, degrades, delights in Serife,

And makes a Lottery of Life.
I can enjoy her while she's kind;
But when the dances in the Wind,
And takes her Wings, and will not stay,

I puff the Proftiture away:
The little or the much the gave, is quietly resign’d:

Content with Poverty, my Soul I arm ;
And Virtue, tho' in Rags, will keep me warm.


What is't to me,
Who never fail in her unfaithful Sea,

If Storms arise, and Clouds grow black;

If the Maft fplit and threaten Wreck,
Then let the greedy Merchant fear

For his ill gotten Gain ;
And pray to Gods that will not hear,

While the debating Winds and Billows bear

His Wealth into the Main.
For me secure from Fortune's Blows,
(Secure of what I cannot lore,)
In my small Pinnace I can sail,
Contenining all the bluftring roar;

And running with a merry Gale,
With friendly Stars my fafety seek
Within some little winding Creek ;

And see the Storm a-shore,

From HORACE, Epod. 2.


ow happy in his low Degree,

Who leads a quiet Country Life!
Discharg'd of Bufinefs, void of Strife,
And from the griping Scrivener free.
(Thus e'er the Seeds of Vice were fown,
Liv'd Men in better Ages born,
Who plow'd with Oxen of their own
Their small paternal Field of Corn.)
Nor Trumpers summon him to War

Nor Drums difturb his Morning Sleep,
Nor knows he Merchants gainful Care,

Nor fears the Dangers of the Deep.
The clamours of contentious Law,

And Court and State he wisely funs,
Nor brib'd with Hopes nor dar'd with Awe-

To servile Salutacions runs :
But either to the clasping Vine

Does the supporting Poplar wed,
Or with his pruning Hook disjoin

Unbearing Branches from their Head,
And grafts more happy in their stead;

Or climbing to a hilly Steep

He views his Herds in Vales afar, Or sheers his overburden'd Sheep,

Or Mead for cooling drink prepares,

Of Virgin Honey in the Jars. Or in the now declining Year,

When bounteous Autumn rears his Head, He joys to pull the ripen'd Pear,

And clustring Grapes with Purple Spread. The fairest of his Fruit he serves,

Priapus thy rewards : Sylvanus too his part deserves,

Whose care the fences guards. Sometimes beneath an ancient Oak,

Or on the matted Grass he lyes; No God of Sleep he need invoke,

The stream that o'er the pebbles flies

With gentle Slumber crowns his Eyes. The Wind that whistles through the Sprays

Maintains the consort of the Song ;
And hidden Birds with native lays

The golden Aeep prolong.
But when the blast of Winter blows,

And hoary frost inverts the Year,
Into the naked Woods he goes

And seeks the tusky Boar to rear,

With well-mouth'd Hounds and pointed Spear. Or spreads his subtile Nets from light

With twinkling Glasses, to betray The Larks that in the Meshes light,

Or makes the fearful Hare his prey. Amidst his harmless easie joys

No anxious Care invades his Health,
Nor Love his peace of Mind destroys,

Nor wicked avarice of Wealth.
But if a chast and pleasing Wife,
To ease the business of his Life,
Divides with him his houshold care,
Such as the Sabine Matrons were,

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