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ON THE FIRST FIT OF THE GOUT." Since the rivers, chain'd up, flow with the same

speed

(read, Welcome, thou friendly earnest of fourscore,

As crimivals move tow'rds the psalın they can't Promise of wealth, that hast alone the power Throw whole oaks at a time, nay, whole groves, T' attend the rich, unenvy'd by the poor.

on the fire, Thou that dost Æsculapius deride,

To keep out the cold, and new vigour inspire ; And o'er his gally-pots in triumph ride;

Ne'er waste the dull time in impertinent thinking, Thou that art us'd t'attend the poyal throne,

But urge and pursue the grand business of drinking. And under-prop the head that bears the crown ;

Come, pierce your old hogsheads, ne'er stint us in Thou that dost oft in priry council vait,

sherry, And guard from drowsy sleep the eyes of State;

For this is the season to drink and be merry; Thou that spon the bench art mounted high,

That, reviv'd by good liquor and Wllets together, And warn'st the judges how they tread awry;

We inay brave the loud storms, and defy the cold Thou that dost oft from pamper'd prelate's toe

weather. Emphatically urge the pains below;

We'll have no more of business; but, friend, as Thou that art ever half the city's grace,

you love us, And add'st to solemn noddles soleinn pace;

Leave it all to the care of the good folks abpre us. Thou that art us'd to sit on ladies knee,

Whilst your appesite's strong, and good humour To feed on jellies, and to drink cold tea;

reinains, 'Thou that art ne'er froin velvet slipper free ; And active brisk blood does enliven your veins, Whence comes this unsought honoar unto me?

Improve the sweet minutes in scenes of d 'light, Whence does this inighty condescension flow?

Let your friend have the day, and your mistress the To visit my poor tabernacle, O-!

night; As Jove vouchşaf d on Ida's top, 'tis said,

In the dark vou may try whcther Phyllis is kind, At poor Philemon's cot to take a be?;

The night for intriguing was ever design'd; Pleas' with the poor but hospitable feast,

Though she runs froin your arms, and retires to a Jove hid him ask, and granted his request;

shade, So do trou grant (for thou 'rt of race divine,

Some friendly kind sign will betray the coy mail : Bt.got on Venus by the god of wine)

All trembling you'll find then the poor bashful Mv humble suit !-And either give me store

Such a trespass is venial in any beginner; (sinner, To entertain thee, or ne'er sce me more.

But remember this counsel, when once you have met her.

(better!"

“Get a ring from the fair-one, or something's that HORACE, BOOK I. QDE IX.

IMITATED.

DR. JOIINSON,

FROM THE OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE VERSES ?.

CATULLUS, Erig. V,
Sixce the hills all around us do penance in snow,

TRANSLATED.
And Winter's cold blasts have benumb'd us below; | Ler's live, my dear, like lovers too,

Nor heed what old men say or do.
1 The compilers having omitted some pretty
verses, I have put thein in here.

ness of wit, with the greatest abilities for council ? Which were thus dedicated, by Mr. Fenton, and action. Thus she reconciles the seasons in to Lionel earl of Dorset and Middlesex :

her most generous productions, by allowing them “ My lord, I hope, on your return from having to bear fruit and blossoms together, and both in been admired in foreign courts to adorn our own, perfection. These shining qualities made your you will not be surprised with a privilege the poets father the delight and wonder of his age; and assuinė, of being troublesome to persons of your had he not survived himself in yo:ir lordship, he rank.

But they have more particularly applied | had been the envy of ours. The praises which he themselves to your lordship's family, in which a received from the most refined wits of qur nation continued race of genius has both advanced their hare proved real prophecies of you ; and it is art, and encouraged its professors, We owe the with pleasure we foresee, that posterity, to deserve rise of our English tragedy to one of your lord. the highest characters, will form themselves on ship's ancestors, who fixed uş second to the Greck the model of your family, and copy from my stage before Shaķespeare wrote. And, my lord, lords of Dorset as the finest originals. But, my your father came the nearest of all the moderns lord, I am afraid I shall forfeit all hopes of your to florace, in the sweetness and gallantry of his patronage, by violating your modesty ; and therelyrics, and equalled him in satire. Thus the fore I only beg leave to add, that as the cabinet stream flows pure in its descent, to receive a far- and the field have been happily supplied, to renther increase from your lordship. We read of a der her majesty's reign, at least, a rival to her Sipio and a Mæcenas, who used to soften the virgin predecessor's; so, to complete the parallel, troublesome honours of state by conversing with it was necessary that you, my lord, like another the Muses; and cherished thosc arts of which they Sidney, should arise, to receive the softer arts themselves were masters: yet, as single instances into your protection; to excite the young writers of this kind are not frequent, so the vein is very of this age to attempt those actions in verse, seldom found to have continued a second genera- which will shine so fairly distinguished in our tion. But, in your lordship's line, Nature seems British story. My lord, I am your lordship's industriqus to preserve the genius of poetry, by most humble, and most obedient servant, successively uniting delicacy of taste, and bright

E. FENTON,"

BOOK III.

ODE TI.

The falling Sun will surely rise,

Nor fool, nor knare, but innocently w're ; And dart new glories through the skies.

Some friends indulge me, let a few saftice: But when we fall, alas! our light

But suited to my humour and degree, Will set in everlasting night.

Not nice, but easily pleas'd, and fit for me; Come, then, let mirth and amorous play

So let my board and entertainments be. Be all the business of the day.

With wholesome homely food, not seri'd in state, Give me this kiss—and this -and this !

What tastes as well in pewter as in plate. A hundred thousand more.—Let's kiss

Mirth and a glass my cheerful evenings share, Till we ourselves cannot express,

At equal distance from debauch and care. Nor any lurking spy confess,

To bed retiring, let me find it blest
The boundless measure of our happiness.

With a kind modest spouse and downy rest:
Pleas'd always with the lot my Fates assign,
Let me no change desire, no change decline;

With every turn of Providence comply,
CLAUDIAN'S OLD MAN OF VERONA. Nor tir'd with life, nor yet afraid to die.
Hapry the man, who all bis days does pass
In the paternal cottage of his race;
Where first bis trembling infant steps he try'd,
Which now supports his age, and once his youth

HORACE,
employ'd.
This was the cottage his forefathers knew,
It saw his birth, shall see his burial too;

Ay honest mind, to Virtue's precepts true, Unequal fortunes and ambition's fate

Contemus the fury of a lawless crew : Are things experience never taught him yet.

Firm as a rock he to his purpose stands, Him to strange lands no rambling humour bore, Nor breath'd he ever any air but of his native sbóre... And thinks a tyrant's frowns as weak as his com

mands. Free from all anxious interests of trade,

Him loudest storms can't from his centre more, No storms at sea have e'er disturb'd his head:

He braves th' almighty thunder ev'n of Jove. He never battle's wild confusions saw,

If all the heavenly orbs, confus'dly hurl'd, Nor heard the worse confusions of the law.

Should dash in pieces, and should crush the world; A stranger to the town and town-employs,

Undaunted he the mighty crush would hear, Their dark and crowded streets, their stink and

Nor in his breast admit a thought of fear. He a more calm and brighter sky enjoys, (noise ;

Pollux and wandering Hercules of old Nor does the year by change of consuls know,

Were by such acts among the gods enro!l'd. The year his fruit's returning seasons show;

Augustus thus the shining powers possess'd, Quarters and months in Nature's face he sees,

By all th’immortal deities caress'd ; In flowers the Spring, and Autumn on his trees.

He shares with them in their ethereal feasts, The whole day's shadows, in his homestead drawn,

And quaff: bright nectar with the heavenly guests Point out the hourly courses of the Sun.

This was the path the frisking tigers trod, Grown old with him, a grove adorns his field,

Dragging the car that bore their jolly yod, Whose tender setts his intancy beheid.

Hl'ho fix'd in Heaven his crown and his abnde. Of distant India, Ervthraan shor's,

Romulus by Mars through this blest path was Benacıs' lake, Verona's neigl bouring towers,

And ’scap'd the woes of gloomy Acberon. (sto, (Alike unseen) from common fame bas heard,

In Virtue's sugged road he took his way, Alike believes them, and with like regard.

And gain'd the mansions of eternal day; Yet, firon and strong, his grandchildren admire

For bin ev'n Juno's self pronoucc'd a word, The health and vigour of their brawny sire.

Grateful to all th' ethereal council-bourd. The spacious globe let those that will survey,

" Ollion! Ilion! I with transport view This good old man, content at huine to stay,

The fall of all thy wicked perjur'd crew; More happy years shall know, more leagues and

Pallas and I have borne the rankling grudge countries they.

To that curst shepherd, that incestuous judge;
Nay, ev'n Laomedon his gods betray'd,

And baselv broke the solemn oath he made.
MARTIAL,

But now the painted strumpet and her guest
No more are in their pomp and jewels drest;

No more is Hector licensid to destroy,
Would you, my friend, in little room express To slay the Greeks, and save his perjur'd Tmp.
The just description of true happiness;

Priam is now become an empty ghost, First set me down a competent estate,

Doom'd with his house to tread the buming ques But rais'd and left me by a parent's sweat;

The god of battle now has ceas'd to roar, ('Tis pleasure to improve, but toil to get:) And I, the queen of Heaven, pursue my hate na Not large, but always large enough to yield I now the Trojan priestess' son will give A cheerful fire, and no ungrateful field.

Back to his warlike sire, and let him lire Averse to law-suits, let me peace enjoy,

In lucid bowers, and give him leave to use And rartly pester'd with a town-employ.

Ambrosia, and the nectar's heavenly juice;
Smooth be my thoughts, my mind serene and clear, To be a nroll'd in these serene abodes,
A healthful body with such limbs I'd bear

And wear the easy order of the gods.
As should be graceful, well proportion'd, just, In this blest state I grant him to remain,
And neither weak, nor boorishly robust.

While Troy from Rome's divided by the main ;

LIB. X.

EPIG. XLVII.

While savage beasts insult the Trojan tombs,

TO A YOUNG LADY, And in their caves unlade their pregnant wombs.

WITH FENTON'S MISCELLANIES.
Let th' exil'd Trojans reign in every land,

BY WALTER HARTE, M. A.
And let the Capitol triumphant stand,
And all the tributary world command.

These various strains, where every talent charms,
Let awful Rome, with seven refulgent heads, Where humour pleases, or where passion warms;
Still keep her conquest o'er the vanquish'd Medes. (Strains, where the tender and sublime conspire,
With conquering terrour let her arms extend A Sappho's sweetness, and a Homer's fire)
Her mighty name to shores without an end; Attend their doom, and wait, with glad surprise,
Where mid-land seas divide the fruitful soil

Th' impartial justice of Cleora's eyes. From Europe to the swelling waves of Nile.

'Tis hard to say, what mysteries of Fate, Let them be greater by despising gold,

What turns of Fortune, on good writers wait. Than digging it from forth its native mould. The party slave will wound them as he can, To be the wicked instrument of ill,

And damns the merit, if he hates the man. Let sword and ruin every country fill,

Nay, ev’n the bards with wit and laurels crown'd, That strives to stop the progress of her arms;

Bless'd in each strain, in erery art renown'd; Not only those that sultry Sirius warms;

Misled by pride, and taught to sin by power, But where the fields in endless winter lie,

Still search around for those they may devour; Whose frosts and snows the Sun's bright rays

Like savage monarchs on a guilty throne, defy:

Who crush all might that can invade their own. But yet, on this condition, I decree

Others who hate, yet want the soul to dare, The warlike Romans happy destiny:

So ruin bards--as beaux deceive the fair: That, when they universal rule enjoy,

On the pleas'd ear their soft deceits employ; They not presume to raise their ancient Troy : Smiling they wound and praise but to destroy. For then all ugly omens shall return,

These are th' unbappy crimes of modern days, And Troy be built but once again to burn;

And can the best of poets hope for praise ? Ev'n I myself a second war will move,

How sınall a part of human blessings share Ev'n I, the sister and the wife of Jove.

The wise, the good, the noble, and the fair! If Phæbus' harp should thrice erect a wall,

Short is the date unhappy Wit can boast, And all of brass, yet thrice the work should fall, A blaze of glory in a moment lost ! Sack'd by my favourite Greeks; and thrice again Fortune, still envious of the great man's praise, The Trojan wives should drag a captive chain,

Curses the coxcomb with a length of days. And mourn their children and their husbands So (Hector dead) amid the female choir, slain.”

Unmanly Paris tun'd the silver lyre.

Attend, ye Britons, in so just a cause,
But whither would'st thou, soaring Muse, aspire, "Tis sure a scandal to withhold applause;
To tell the counsels of the heavenly choir?

Nor let posterity, reviling, say,
Alas' thou canst not strain thy weakly strings, “ Thus unregarded Fenton pass'd away!”
To sing, in humble notes, such mighty things : Yet if the Muse may faith and merit claim,
No more the secrets of the gods relate,

(A Muse too just to bribe with venal fame) Thy tongue's too feeble for a task so great. Soon shalt thou shine “ in majesty avow'd,

As thy own goddess breaking through a cloud'.”
Fame, like a nation-debt, though long delay'd,
With mighty interest must at last be paid.

Like Vinci'sa strokes, thy verses we behold,
THE ROSE.

Correctly graceful, and with labour bold.
See, Sylvia, see, this new-blown rose,

At Sappho's woes we breathe a tender sigh,

And the soft sorrow steals from every eye.
The image of thy blush,
Mark how it smiles upon the bush,

Here Spenser's thoughts in solemn nuntiers roll,

Here lofty Milton seems to lift the soul. And triump's as it grows! Oh, pluck it not ! we'll come anon,”

There sprightly Chaucer charms our hours away

With stories quajnt, and gentle roundelay. Thou say'st. Alas! 'twill then be gone.

Muse! at that name each thought of pride recall, Now its purple beauty's spread,

Ah, think how soon the wise and glorious fall! Soon it will droop and fall,

What though the Sisters every grace impart, And soon it will not be at all;

To smooth thy verse, and captivate the heart: No fine things draw a length of thread.

What though your charms, my fair Cleora, shine Then tell me, seems it not to say,

Bright as your eyes, and as your sex divine: “ Come on, and crop me whilst you may ?" Yet shall the verses and the charms decay,

The boast of youth, the blessing of a day!
Not Chaucer's beauties could survive the rage
Of wasting Envy, and devouring Age:

One mingled heap of ruin now we see;
EPIGRAM,

Thus Chaucer is', and Fenton thus shall be!
OUT OF MARTIAL,

1 Fenton's epistle to Southerne. H. Milo's from home; and, Milo bring gone,

2 Leonardo da Vinci. N. His lands bore nothing, but his wife a son :

3 Evidently borrowed from Pope's Essay On Why she so fruitful, and so bar the field ?

Criticism, 485. The lands lay fallow, but the wife was till'i'.

And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryuva be.

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