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To guilty hearts afford no kind relief;
But add inflaming rãge, and more afflicting grief.
Monstrous Typhæus, thus, new terrors fill,
He, who affail'd the skies,
And now, beneath the burning hill
Of dreadful Ætna lies.
Hearing the lyre's celestial found,
He bellows in th' abyss profound;
Sicilia trembles at his roar,
Tremble the feas, and far Campania's fhore;
While all his hundred mouths, at once respire
Volumes of curling fioke, and floods of liquid fire.
From heaven alone all good proceeds ;
To heavenly minds belong
All power and love, Godolphin, of good deeds,
And sense of sacred fong!
And thus most pleasing are the Muse's lays
To them who merit most her praise ;
Wherefore, for thee, her ivory lyre she strings,
And foars with rapture while she sings.
Whether affairs of most important weight
Require thy aiding hand,
And Anna's cause and Europa's fate
Thy serious thoughts demand;
Whether thy days and nights are spent
In cares, on public good intent;
Or whether leisure hours invite
To manly sports, or to refind delight ;
In courts residing, or to plains retir’d,
Where generous steeds contest, with emulation fir'd!
Thee still she seeks, and tuneful sings thy name,
As once she Theron fung,
While with the deathless worthy's fame
Olympian Pifa rung:
Nor less fublime is now her choice,
Nor less inspir'd by thee her voice.
And now she loves aloft to found
The man for more than mortal deeds renown'd;
Varying anon her theme, she takes delight
The swift-heeld horse to praise, and sing his rapid flight.
And see! the air-born racers start,
Impatient of the rein;
Faster they run than flies the Scithian dart,
Nor, pafling, print the plain!
The winds themselves, who with their swiftnefs vie,
In vain their airy pinions ply;
So far in matchless speed thy coursers pass
Th’ ætherial authors of their race.
And now a while the well-strain'd coursers breathe;
And now, my Muse, prepare
Of olive leaves a twisted wreath
To bind the victor's hair.
Pallas, in care of human-kind,
The fruitful olive first design'd;
Deep in the glebe her spear she lanc'd,
When all at once the laden boughs advanc'd :
The Gods with wonder view'd the teeming earth, And all, with one consent, approv'd the beauteous birth.
This done, earth-shaking Neptune next essay'd,
In bounty to the world,
To emulate the blue-ey'd maid ;
And his huge trident hurl'd
Against the founding beach ; the Itroke
Transfix'd the globe, and open
The central earth, whence, fivift as light,
Forth rush'd the first-born horse. Stupendous sight!
Neptune for human good the beast ordains,
Whom soon he tam'd to use, and taught to bear the reins.
Thus gods contended (noble ftrife,
Worthy the heavenly mind!)
Who most should do to soften anxious life,
And most endear mankind.
Thus, thou, Godolphin, doft with Marlborough strive,
From whose joint toils we rest derive : Triumph in wars abroad his arm assures,
Sweet Peace at home thy care fecures.
To thee, dear Dick, this tale I send,
Both as a critick and a friend.
I tell it with some variation
(Not altogether a translation)
From La Fontaine ; an author, Dick,
Whofe Muse would touch thee to the quick.
The subject is of that same kind,
To which thy heart seems most inclin’d:
How verse may alter it, God knows,
Thou lov'st it well, I’m fure, in profe.
So, without preface, or pretence,
To hold thee longer in fufpence,
I shall proceed, as I am able,
To the recital of my
A goblin of the merry kind,
More black of hue, than curst of mind,
To help a lover in distress,
Contriv'd a charm with such success,
That in short space the cruel dame
Relented, and return’d his flame.
The bargain, made betwixt them both,
Was bound by honour and by oath :
The lover laid down his falvation,
And Satan stak'd his reputation.
The latter promis'd on his part
(To serve his friend, and thew his art),
That madam should by twelve o'clock,
Though hitherto as hard as rock,
Become as gentle as a glove,
And kiss and coo like any
In short, the woman should be his,
That is, upon condition---Viz.
That he, the lover, after tasting
What one would wish were everlasting;
Should, in return for such enjoyment,
Supply the fiend with fresh employment :
“ That's all, quoth Pug; my poor request
“ Is, only, never to have rest;
“ You thought, 'tis like, with reason too,
“ That I should have been serv’d, not you :
“ But what ? upon my friend impose !
“ No-though a devil, none of those.
“ Your business then, pray understand me,
“ Is nothing more but to command me.
“ Of one thing only let me warn ye :
" Which somewhat nearly may concern ye :
“ As soon as e'er one work is done,
« Strait name a new one; and so on;
« Let each to other quick fucceed,
“ Or elfe---you know how 'tis agreed
“ For if through any hums or haws
“ There haps an intervening pause,
“ In which, for want of fresh commands,
“ Your slave obfequious, idle stands,