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The other slights for wohnen, sports, and wines, All Townshend's turnips, and all Grosvenor's
mines : Why one, like Bu~, with pay and scorn content; Bows and votes on in court, and parliament; 275 One, driv'n by strong benevolence of soul, Shall fiy, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole ; Is known alone to that directing pow'r, Who forms the genius in the natal hour; That God of Nature, who, within us still, 280 Inclines our action, not constrains our will. Various of temper, as of face or frame, Each individual ; his great end the same. Yes, Sir, how small soever be my heap, A part I will enjoy as well as keep.
- 283 My heir may sigh, and think it want of grace A man so poor would live without a place ; But sure no statute iri his favor says, How free, or frugal, I shall pass my days ; I who at some times spend, at others spare, 290 Divided between carelessness and care. 'Tis one thing, madly to disperse my store, Another, not to heed to treasure more ; Glad, like a boy, to snatch the first good day, And pleas’d, if sordid want be far away. 290 : What is't tò me (a passenger, God wot) Whether my vessel be first rate, or not? The ship itself may make a better figure, But I that sail, am ueither less, nor bigger,
I neither strut with ev'ry fav’ring breath, 300
• But why all this of avarice? I have none."
Learn to live well, or fairly make your will; You've play'd, and lov?d, and atę, and drank your
fill. Walk sober off, before a sprighulier age Comes titt'ring on, and shoves you from the stage : Leave such to trifle with more grace and ease 326 Whom folly pleases, and whose follies please,
HORACE, BOOK IV. ODE 1.
Thither the silver-sounding lyres Shall call the smiling Loves and young Desires; There ev'ry Grace and Muse shall throng, Exalt the dance, or animaię the song ; There youths and nymphs, in consort gay, Shall hail the rising, close the parting day. With mc, alas ! those joys are oʻer; For me the vernal garlands bloom no more, Adieu ! fond hope of mutual fire, The still believing, still renewid dcsire ! Adieu ! the heart-expanding bawl, And all the kind deceivers of the soul ! But why? ah ! tell me, ah ! too dear! Steals down my cheek th' involuntary tear ? Why words so flowing, thoughts so free, Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of thee? Thee, dress'd in Fancy's airy beam, Absent I follow through th' extended dream; Now, now I seize, I clasp thy charms, And now you burst (ah, cruel !) from my arms ! And swiftly shoot along the Mall, Or softly glide by the Canal ; Now shown by Cynthia's silver ray, And now on rolling waters snatch'd away.
; HORACE, BOOK IV. ODE IX,
Lost you should think that verse shall die,
Through daring Milton sits sublime
Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride!