Erynnis faw 't, and made in her own feed The innocent Parricide to bleed; She flew his wrathful fons with mutual blows: But better things did then fucceed, And brave Therfander, in amends for what was past, arofe. Brave Therfander was by none, . In war, or warlike sports, out-done. Thou, Theron, his great virtues doft revive 9 He in my verfe and thee again does live. Loud Olympus happy thee, Ifthmus and Nemea does twice happy fee; By not being all thine own; And thofe kind pious glories do deface Greatnefs of mind and fortune too, In the noble chace of fame; This without that is blind, that without this is lame.. Nor is fair Virtue's picture feen aright But in Fortune's golden light. Riches alone are of uncertain date, And on fhort man long cannot wait; The virtuous make of them the best, And put them out to Fame for interest ; With a frail good they wifely buy The folid purchase of eternity : They, whilst life's air they breathe, confider well, and know Th' account they must hereafter give below; Unrelenting torments prove, The heavy neceffary effects of voluntary faults. Whilft in the lands of unexhausted light, Nor aught to labour owe For food, that whilst it nourishes does decay, Thrice had these men through mortal bodies past, Did thrice the trial undergo, Till all their little drofs was purg'd at last, The furnace had no more to do. Then in rich Saturn's peaceful state Were they for facred treafures plac'd, The Mufe-difcovered world of Illands Fortunate. Soft-footed winds with tuneful voices there Dance through the perfum'd air: There There filver rivers through enamel'd meadows glide, Which by the bleft are gathered For bracelets to the arm, and garlands to the head. Which did from thence a divine hardness take, That does from paffion and from vice invulnerable make. To Theron, Mufe! bring back thy wandering fong, How, noble archer! do thy wanton arrows fly Thy founding quiver can ne'er emptied be Wallows Wallows in wealth, and runs a turning maze, Art, instead of mounting high, Like the ignoble crow, rapine and noise does love; Defeats the ftrong, o'ertakes the flying prey, His foaring wings among the clouds. Leave, wanton Mufe! thy roving flight; And Theron be the White. And, left the name of verse should give Malicious men pretext to mifbelieve, By the Castalian waters fwear (A facred oath no poets dare To take in vain, No more than Gods do that of Styx prophane), A better man, or greater-foul'd, was born; No man near him should be poor; Swear, that none e'er had fuch a graceful art With an unenvious hand, and an unbounded heart. But But in this thanklefs world the givers Are envied ev'n by the receivers : 'Tis now the cheap and frugal fashion, Left men fhould think we owe. Such monsters, Theron! has thy virtue found: Thy fecure honour cannot wound; Is equally impoffible! THE |