Thanks, gentle fwain, for all my woes,

And thanks for this effectual clofe

And cure of ev'ry ill!

More cruelty could none exprefs,

And I, if you had fhewn me less

Had been your pris'ner ftill.

The PINE APPLE and the BEE.

THE pine apples in triple row,
Were basking hot and all in blow,
A bee of most discerning tafte
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pafs'd,
On eager wing the spoiler came,
And fearch'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry fide,

To ev'ry pane his trunk applied,

But

But still in vain, the frame was tight

And only pervious to the light.

Thus having wafted half the day,

He trimm'd his flight another way.
Methinks, I faid, in thee I find

The fin and madness of mankind;
To joys forbidden man afpires,
Confumes his foul with vain defires;
Folly the spring of his purfuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.

While Cynthio ogles as fhe paffes

The nymph between two chariot glaffes,

She is the pine apple, and he

The filly unsuccessful bee.

The maid who views with penfive air
The fhow-glafs fraught with glitt'ring ware,

Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But fighs at thought of empty pockets,

Like thine, her appetite is keen,

But ah the cruel glass between!

Our

Our dear delights are often fuch,
Expos'd to view but not to touch

The fight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine apples in frames,
With hopeless with one looks and lingers,
One breaks the glafs and cuts his fingers,
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE. Book the 2d. ODE the 10th:

I.

RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,

So fhalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse Fortune's pow'r; Not always tempt the diftant deep,

Nor always timorously creep,

Along the treach'rous fhore.

He

II.

He that holds faft the golden mean,

And lives contentedly between

The little and the great;

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,

Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,
Imbitt'ring all his ftate.

III.

The tallest pines feel moft the pow'r
Of wintry blafts, the loftieft tow'r

Comes heaviest to the ground;

The bolts that spare the mountain's fide,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.

IV.

The well inform'd philosopher
Rejoices with an wholesome fear,

And hopes in spite of pain;

If winter bellow from the north,

Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,

And nature laughs again.

What

V.

What if thine heav'n be overcast,

The dark appearance will not last,

Expect a brighter sky;

The God that strings the filver bow,
Awakes fometimes the mufes too,
And lays his arrows by.

VI.

If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity difplay,

And let thy ftrength be feen;
But oh! if Fortune fill thy fail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvass in.

A REFLECTION on the foregoing O D E.

AND is this all? Can reafon do no more

Than bid me fhun the deep and dread the fhore?

Sweet