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Cyprus no more with her abode is blest,

I am her palace, and her throne my breast.
Of favage Scythian arms no more I write,
Of Parthian archers, who in flying fight,
And make rough war their sport;
Such idle themes no more can move,
Nor any thing but what 's of high import:
And what's of high import, but love?
Vervain and gums, and the green turf prepare;
With wine of two years old your cups be fill'd:
After our facrifice and prayer,

The goddess may incline her heart to yield.

S TA N Ꮓ A S

IN IMITATION OF HORACE,
LI B. II. ODE XIV.

"Eheu fugaces, Pofthume, Pofthume,
"Labuntur anni, &c."

I.

AH! no, 'tis all in vain, believe me ’tis,

This pious artifice..

Not all these prayers and alms can buy
One moment tow'rd Eternity.

Erernity that boundless race,

Which Time himself can never run

(Swift, as he flies, with an unweary'd pace) :

Which, when ten thousand, thousand years are done, Is still the fame, and still to be begun.

Fix'd are those limits, which prefcribe

A fhort extent to the most lafting breath;

And though thou could'st for facrifice lay down
Millions of other lives to fave thy own,
'Twere fruitlefs all; not all would bribe
One fupernumerary gafp from death.

II.

In vain 's thy inexhausted store

Of wealth, in vain thy power;
Thy honours, titles, all must fail,
Where Piety itself can nought avail.
The rich, the great, the innocent, and just,
Muft all be huddled to the grave,
With the most vile and ignominious slave,
And undistinguish'd lie in dust.

In vain the fearful flies alarms,

In vain he is fecure from wounds of arms,
In vain avoids the faithlefs feas,
And is confin'd to home and ease,
Bounding his knowledge, to extend his days.
In vain are all thofe arts we try,
All our evafions, and regret to die:
From the contagion of mortality,

No clime is pure, no air is free:
And no retreat

Is fo obfcure, as to be hid from fate

III.

Thou must, alas! thou muft, my friend;
(The very hour thou now doft spend
In ftudying to avoid, brings on thy end)

Thou

Thou must forego the dearest joys of life;
Leave the warm bofom of thy tender wife,
And all the much-lov'd offspring of her womb,
To moulder in the cold embraces of a tomb.
All must be left, and all be loft;

Thy houfe, whose stately ftructure fo much coft,
Shall not afford

Room for the ftinking carcafe of its lord.
Of all thy pleasant gardens, grots, and bowers,
Thy coftly fruits, thy far-fetch'd plants and flowers,
Nought fhalt thou fave;

Or but a sprig of rosemary shalt have,

To wither with thee in the grave: The rest shall live and flourish, to upbraid Their tranfitory master dead.

IV.

Then fhall thy long-expecting heir
A joyful mourning wear:

And riot in the waste of that estate

Which thou haft taken fo much pains to get.
All thy hid stores he shall unfold,

And fet at large thy captive gold.

That precious wine, condemn'd by thee, To vaults and prifons, shall again be free: Bury'd alive though now it lies,

Again fhall rife ;

Again its sparkling furface show, And free as element profufely flow.

With fuch high food he fhall fet forth his feafts,
That cardinals fhall wish to be his guests;
And pamper'd prelates fee
Themselves outdone in luxury.

IN IMITATION OF HORACE

ODE IX. LI B. I.

"Vides ut alta, &c."

I.

BLESS me, 'tis cold! how chill the air!

How naked does the world appear!
But fee (big with the offspring of the north)
The teeming clouds bring forth :

A fhower of foft and fleecy rain
Falls, to new-cloath the earth again.
Behold the mountain-tops around,
As if with fur of ermins crown'd;
And lo! how by degrees
The univerfal mantle hides the trees,
In hoary flakes, which downward fly,
As if it were the Autumn of the sky :
Trembling, the groves fuftain the weight, and bow
Like aged limbs, which feebly go
Beneath a venerable head of fnow.

II.

Diffufive cold does the whole earth invade,
Like a difeafe, through all its veins 'tis spread,
And each late living stream is numb'd and dead.

Let's

Let's melt the frozen hours, make warm the air;
Let chearful fires Sol's feeble beams repair;
Fill the large bowl with sparkling wine;
Let's drink 'till our own faces fhine,
Till we like funs appear,

To light and warm the hemisphere.
Wine can dispense to all both light and heat,
They are with wine incorporate :

That powerful juice, with which no cold dares mix,
Which still is fluid, and no frost can fix;
Let that but in abundance flow,

And let it ftorm and thunder, hail and fnow,
'Tis heaven's concern; and let it be

The care of heaven ftill for me:

Those winds, which rend the oaks and plough the feas Great Jove can, if he please,

With one commanding nod appease.

III.

Seek not to know to-morrow's doom;
That is not ours, which is to come.
The prefent moment's all our store:
The next, fhould heaven allow,
Then this will be no more :
So all our life is but one inftant now.
Look on each day you 've past
To be a mighty treasure won:
And lay each moment out in haste;

We 're fure to live too fast,
And cannot live too foon.

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