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But finds the strong desire is not the power,
And what her taste condemns the flames devour.
A part perhaps like this escapes the doom.
And though unworthy, finds a friend at Rome;
But oh! the cruel art that could undo
Its votary thus! would that could perish too!

HORACE, BOOK I. ODE IX.

Vides, ut altá stet nive candidum
Soracte;

SEEST thou yon mountain laden with deep snow,
The groves beneath their fleecy burden bow,
The streams congeal'd, forget to flow,
Come, thaw the cold and lay a cheerful pile
Of fuel on the hearth;

Broach the best cask and make old winter smile
With seasonable mirth.

This be our part-let Heaven dispose the rest;
If Jove command, the winds shall sleep,
That now wage war upon the foamy deep,
And gentle gales spring from the balmy west.

E'en let us shift to-morrow as we may,
When to-morrow's passed away,
We at least shall have to say,
We have lived another day;

Your auburn locks will soon be silver'd o'er,
Old age is at our heels, and youth returns no

more.

HORACE, BOOK I. ODE XXXVIII.

Persicos odi, puer, apparatus.

Boy, I hate their empty shows,
Persian garlands I detest,
Bring not me the late-blown rose,
Lingering after all the rest.
Plainer myrtle pleases me,

Thus outstretch'd beneath my vine; Myrtle more becoming thee,

Waiting with thy master's wine.

HORACE, BOOK I. ODE XXXVIII.

Boy! I detest all Persian fopperies,
Fillet-bound garlands are to me disgusting;
Task not thyself with any search, I charge thee,
Where latest roses linger.

Bring me alone (for thou wilt find that readily)
Plain myrtle. Myrtle neither will disparage
Thee occupied to serve me, or me drinking

Beneath my vine's cool shelter.

HORACE, BOOK II. ODE X.
RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverse fortune's power;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep

Along the treacherous shore.
He that holds fast 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,
Imbittering all his state.

The tallest pines feel most the power
Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower
Comes heaviest to the ground;
The bolts that spare the mountain's side
His cloudcapt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.
The well-inform'd philosopher,
Rejoices with a 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 if thine heaven be overcast ?
The dark appearance will not last;
Expect a brighter sky.

The God that strings the silver bow
Awakes sometimes the muses too,

And lays his arrows by.

If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen:
But O! it Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvas in.

A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING
ODE.

AND is this all? Can Reason do no more
Then bid me shun the deep and dread the shore?
Sweet moralist! afloat on life's rough sea,
The Christian has an art unknown to thee:
He holds no parley with unmanly fears;
Where Duty bids he confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,
And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all.

HORACE, BOOK II. ODE XVI.
Otium Divos rogat in patenti.

EASE is the weary merchant's prayer,
Who ploughs by night the Egean flood,
When neither moon nor stars appear,
Or faintly glimmer through the cloud.
For ease the Mede with quiver graced,
For ease the Tracian hero sighs,
Delightful case all pant to taste,
A blessing which no treasure buys.
For neither gold can lull to rest,

Nor all a Consul's guard beat off
The tumults of a troubled breast,
The cares that haunt a gilded roof.
Happy the man whose table shows
A few clean ounces of old plate,
No fear intrudes on his repose,

No sordid wishes to be great.
Poor short-lived things, what plans we lay
Ah. why forsake our native home?
To distant climates speed away;

For self sticks close where'er we roam. Care follows hard and soon o'ertakes The well-rigg'd ship, the warlike steed;

Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes-
Not the wind flies with half her speed.

From anxious fears of future ill

Guard well the cheerful, happy now;
Gild e'en your sorrows with a smile,
No blessing is unmix'd below.

Thy neighing steeds and lowing herds,
Thy numerous flocks around thee graze,
And the best purple Tyre affords

Thy robe magnificent displays.

On me indulgent Heaven bestow'd

A rural mansion, neat and small; This lyre;-and as for yonder crowd, The happiness to hate them all.

THE FIFTH SATIRE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.

▲ HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF THE AUTHOR'S JOURNEY FROM ROME TO BRUNDUSIUM.

"TWAS a long journey lay before us,
When I and honest Heliodorus,
Who far in point of rhetoric
Surpasses every living Greek,
Each leaving our respective home,
Together sallied forth from Rome.
First at Aricia we alight,

And there refresh, and pass the night,
Our entertainment rather coarse

Than sumptuous, but I've met with worse.
Thence o'er the causeway soft and fair
To Appii Forum we repair.
But as this road is well supplied
(Temptation strong!) on either side

With inns commodious snug and warm,
We split the journey, and perform
In two days' time what's often done
By brisker travellers in one.
Here, rather choosing not to sup
Than with bad water mix my cup,
After a warm debate in spite
Of a provoking appetite,
I sturdily resolved at last

To balk it, and pronounce a fast,
And in a moody humor wait,
While my less dainty comrades bait.

Now o'er the spangled hemisphere
Diffused the starry train appear,
When there arose a desperate brawl;
The slaves and bargemen, one and all,
Rending their throats (have mercy on us!)
As if they were resolved to stun us.
"Steer the barge this way to the shore;
I tell you we'll admit no more;
Plague! will you never be content?"
Thus a whole hour at least is spent.
While they receive the several fares,
And kick the mule into his gears.
Happy, these difficulties past,
Could we have fallen asleep at last!

But, what with humming, croaking, biting,
Gnats frogs, and all their plagues uniting,
These tuneful natives of the lake
Conspired to keep us broad awake.
Besides to make the concert full,
Two maudlin wights, exceeding dull,

The bargeman and a passenger,
Each in his turn, essay'd an air
In honor of his absent fair.

At length the passenger, opprest
With wine, left off and snored the rest
The weary bargeman too gave o er,
And, hearing his companion snore,
Seiz'd the occasion, fix'd the barge,
Turn'd out his mule to graze at large,
And slept forgetful of his charge.
And now the sun o'er eastern hill
Discover'd that our barge stood still,
When one, whose anger vex'd him sore,
With malice fraught, leaps quick on shore,
Plucks up a stake, with many a thwack
Assails the mule and driver's back.

Then slowly moving on with pain,
At ten Feronia's stream we gain,
And in her pure and glassy wave
Our hands and faces gladly lave.
Climbing three miles, fair Anxur's height
We reach, with stony quarries white.
While here, as was agreed, we wait,
Till, charged with business of the state,
Mæcenas and Cocceius come,
The messengers of peace from Rome
My eyes. by watery humors bhar
And sore. I with black balsam smear.
At length they join us, and with them
Our worthy friend Fonteius came;
A man of such complete desert,
Antony loved him at his heart.
At Fundi we refused to bait.
And laugh'd at vain Aufidius' state,
A prætor now, a scribe before,
The purple-border'd robe he wore,
His slave the smoking censor bore
Tired, at Muræna's we repose,
At Formia sup at Capito's.

With smiles the rising morn we greet,
At Sinuessa pleased to meet

With Plotius, Varius, and the bard
Whom Mantua first with wonder heard.
The world no purer spirits knows;
For none my heart more warmly glows
O! what embraces we bestow'd,
And with what joy our breasts o'erflow'd
Sure, while my sense is sound and clear,
Long as I live, I shall prefer

A gay, good-natured, easy friend
To every blessing Heaven can send.
At a small village. the next night,
Near the Vulturnus we alight;
Where, as employ'd on state affairs.
We were supplied by the purveyors,
Frankly at once, and without hire,
With food for man and horse, and fire
Capua next day betimes we reach,
Where Virgil and myself who each
Labor'd with different maladies,
His such a stomach, mine such eyes,
As would not bear strong exercise,
In drowsy mood to sleep resort;
Mæcenas to the tennis-court.
Next at Cocceius farm we're treated,
Above the Caudian tavern seated;

His kind and hospitable board

With choice of whole some food was stored
Now. O ye Nine, inspire my boys!
To nobler themes my fancy raise!
Two combatants who scorn to yield
The noisy, tongue-disputed field,

Sarmentus and Cicirrus, claim
A poet's tribute to their fame;
Cicirrus of true Oscian breed,
Sarmentus, who was never freed,
But ran away. We don't defame him;
His lady lives, and still may claim him.
Thus dignified, in harder tray
These champions their keen wit display
And first Sarmentus led the way.

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Thy locks," quoth he, "so rough and coarse, Look like the mane of some wild horse." We laugh; Cicirrus undismay'd"Have at you!"-cries, and shakes his head. ""Tis well," Sarmentus says, "you've lost That horn your forehead once could boast; Since, main'd and mangled as you are, You seem to butt." A hideous scar Improved, 'tis true, with double grace The native horrors of his face. Well, after much jocosely said Of his grim front, so fiery red, (For carbuncles had blotch'd it o'er As usual on Campania's shore,)

"Give us," he cried, "since you're so big,
A sample of the Cyclop's jig!

Your shanks methinks no buskins ask,
Nor does your phiz require a mask."
To this Cicirrus: "In return

Of you, sir, now I fain would learn,
When 'twas, no longer deem'd a slave,
Your chains you to the Lares gave?
For though a scrivener's right you claim,
Your lady's title is the same.

But what could make you run away,
Since, pigmy as you are, each day
A single pound of bread would quite
O'erpower your puny appetite ?"

Thus joked the champions, while we laugh'd,
And many a cheerful bumper quaff'd

To Beneventum next we steer;
Where our good host by over care
In roasting thrushes lean as mice
Had almost fallen a sacrifice.
The kitchen soon was all on fire,
And to the roof the flames aspire;
There might you see each man and master
Striving, amidst this sad disaster,
To save the supper. Then they came
With speed enough to quench the flame.
From hence we first at distance see
The Apulian hills, well known to me,
Parch'd by the sultry western blast;
And which we never should have past,
Had not Trivicius by the way
Received us at the close of day.
But each was forced at entering here
To pay the tribute of a tear,

For more of smoke than fire was seen-
The hearth was piled with logs so green.
From hence in chaises we were carried
Miles twenty-four, and gladly tarried
At a small town, whose name my verse
(So barbarous is it) can't rehearse.
Know it you may by many a sign,
Water is dearer far than wine;
There bread is deem'd such dainty fare,
That every prudent traveller

His wallet loads with many a crust;
For at Canusium you might just
As well attempt to gnaw a stone
As think to get a morsel down:
That too with scanty streams is fed;

Its founder was brave Diomed.
Good Varius (ah, that friends must part!)
Here left us all with aching heart.
At Rubi we arrived that day,

Well jaded by the length of way,

And sure poor mortals ne'er were wetter:
Next day no weather could be better ;
No roads so bad; we scarce could crawl
Along to fishy Barium's wall.

The Egnatians next, who by the rules
Of common sense are knaves or fools,
Made all our sides with laughter heave,
Since we with them must needs believe
That incense in their temples burns,
And without fire to ashes turns.
To circumcision's bigots tell
Such tales! for me, I know full well
That in high heaven, unmoved by care,
The gods eternal quiet share :

Nor can I deem their spleen the cause,
While fickle Nature breaks her laws.
Brundusium last we reach and there
Stop short the muse and traveller.

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So, so;

SAUNTERING along the street one day,
On trifles musing by the way-
Up steps a free familiar wight,
(I scarcely knew the man by sight).
Carlos," he cried, "your hand, my dear;
Gad, I rejoice to meet you here!
Pray Heaven I see you well?"
E'en well enough as times now go:
The same good wishes, sir, to you."
Finding he still pursued me close-
"Sir, you have business I suppose."
"My business, sir, is quickly done,
'Tis but to make my merit known.
Sir, I have read" O learned sir,
You and your learning I revere."
Then sweating with anxiety,
And sadly longing to get free,
Gods, how I scamper'd, scuffled for't,
Ran, halted, ran again, stopp'd short,
Beckon'd my boy, and pull'd him near.
And whisper'd nothing in his ear.

Teased with his loose unjointed chat--
"What street is this? What house is that?"
O Harlow, how I envied thee

Thy unabash'd effrontery,

Who darest a foe with freedom blame,
And call a coxcomb by his name!
When I return'd him answer none,
Obligingly the fool ran on.
"I see you're dismally distress'd,
Would give the world to be released.
But by your leave, sir, I shall still
Stick to your skirts, do what you will.
Pray which way does your journey tend?"
"O, 'tis a tedious way, my friend;
Across the Thames, the Lord knows where,
I would not trouble you so far."

"Well, I'm at leisure to attend you."

Are you?" thought I. "the Deil befriend you." No ass with double panniers rack'd, Oppress'd, o'erladen, broken-back'd,

E'er look'd a thousandth part so dull As I, nor half so like a fool.

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'Sir, I know little of myself,
(Proceeds the pert conceited elf)
If Gray or Mason you will deem
Than me more worthy your esteem.
Poems I write by folios

As fast as other men write prose;
Then I can sing so loud, so clear,
That Beard cannot with me compare.
In dancing too I all surpass,

Not Cooke can move with such a grace."
Here I made shift with much ado
To interpose a word or two.-

"Have you no parents, sir, no friends,
Whose welfare on your own depends?"
"Parents, relations, say you? No.
They're all disposed of long ago."-
"Happy to be no more perplex'd!
My fate too threatens, I go next.
Despatch me, sir, 'tis now too late,
Alas! to struggle with my fate!
Well, I'm convinced my time is come-
When young, a gipsy told my doom.
The beldame shook her palsied head,
As she perused my palm, and said:
Of poison, pestilence, and war,
Gout, stone, defluxion, or catarrh,
You have no reason to beware.
Beware the coxcomb's idle prate;
Chiefly, my son, beware of that.
Be sure, when you behold him, fly
Out of all earshot, or you die."

To Rufus' Hall we now draw near
Where he was summoned to appear,
Refute the charge the plaintiff brought,
Or suffer judgment by default.
"For Heaven's sake, if you love me,
One moment! I'll be with you straight."

Glad of a plausible pretence

"Sir, I must beg you to dispense With my attendance in the court.

My legs will surely suffer for't."

"

Nay, prithee, Carlos, stop awhile!" "Faith, sir, in law I have no skill. Besides, I have no time to spare, I must be going you know where." "Well, I protest I'm doubtful now Whether to leave my suit or you!" "Me without scruple!" I reply, "Me by all means, sir!"-" No, not I

wait

Allons, Monsieur!" "Twas vain, you know, To strive with a victorious foe.

So I reluctantly obey,

And follow where he leads the way,

"You and Newcastle are so close,
Still hand and glove, sir-I suppose."
Newcastle, let me tell you, sir,
Has not his equal everywhere."

"Well. There indeed your fortune's made;
Faith, sir, you understand your trade.
Would you but give me your good word:
Just introduce me to my lord,
I should serve charmingly by way
Of second fiddle, as they say:
What think you, sir? 'twere a good jest.
'Slife, we should quickly scout the rest.'
"Sir, you mistake the matter far,
We have no second fiddles there-
Richer than I some folks may be;
More learned, but it hurts not me.

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Friends though he has of different kind, Each has his proper place assign'd." "Strange matters these alleged by you "Strange they may be, but they are true." "Well then, I vow, 'tis mighty clever, Now I long ten times more than ever To be advanced extremely near

One of his shining character.

Have but the will-there wants no more, "Tis plain enough you have the power. His easy temper (that's the worst) He knows, and is so shy at first." "But such a cavalier as youLord, sir, you'll quickly bring him to!" Well; if I fail in my design,

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Sir, it shall be no fault of mine.
If by the saucy servile tribe
Denied. what think you of a bribe ?
Shut out to-day, not die with sorrow,
But try my luck again to-morrow;
Never attempt to visit him

But at the most convenient time;
Attend him on each levee day,
And there my humble duty pay-
Labor, like this, our want supplies;
And they must stoop who mean to rise."
While thus he wittingly harangued,
For which you'll guess I wish'd him hang'd,
Campley, a friend of mine, came by-
Who knew his humor more than 1;
We stop salute, and-" Why so fast,
Friend Carlos? Whither all this haste ?"
Fired at the thought of a reprieve,

I pinch him, pull him, twitch his sleeve,
Nod, beckon, bite my lips, wink, pout,
Do everything but speak plain out:
While he, sad dog, from the beginning
Determined to mistake my meaning,
Instead of pitying my curse,

By jeering made it ten times worse.
Campley, what secret (pray!) was that
You wanted to communicate!"
"I recollect. But 'tis no matter.
Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter.
E'en let the secret rest. 'Twill tell
Another time, sir, just as well."

Was ever such a dismal day?
Unlucky cur, he steals away,
And leaves me, half bereft of life,
At mercy of the butcher's knife;
When sudden, shouting from afar,
See his antagonist appear!

The bailiff seized him quick as thought,
Ho, Mr. Scoundrel! Are you caught?

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Sir, you are witness to the arrest."

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Ay, marry, sir, I'll do my best."

The mob huzzas. Away they trudge,
Culprit and all before the judge.
Meanwhile I luckily enough
(Thanks to Apollo) got clear off.

TRANSLATION OF AN EPIGRAM FROM
HOMER.*

PAY me my price, potters! and I will sing.
Attend, O Pallas! and with lifted arm

No title is prefixed to this piece, but it appears to be a translation of one of the Eriypappara of Homer called O Kauvos, or The Furnace. Herodotus, or whoever was the author of the Life of Homer ascribed to him,

Protect their oven; let the cups and all
The sacred vessels blacken well, and, baked
With good success, yield them both fair renown
And profit, whether in the market sold

Or streets, and let no strife ensue between us.
But, oh ye potters! if with shameless front
Ye fulsity your promise, then I leave
No mischief uninvoked to avenge the wrong.
Come, Syntrips, Smaragus, Sabactes, come,
And Asbetus, nor let your direst dread,
Omodamus, delay! Fire seize your house,
May neither house nor vestibule escape,
May ye lament to see confusion mar

observes, "certain potters, while they were busied in baking their ware, seeing Homer at a small distance, and having heard much said of his wisdom, called to him, and promised him a present of their commodity, and of such other things as they could afford, if he would sing to them, when he sang as fellows."

And mingle the whole labor of your hands,
And may a sound fill all your oven, such
As of a horse grinding his provender,
While all your pots and flagons bounce within.
Come hither, also, daughter of the sun,
Circe the sorceress, and with thy drugs
Poison themselves, and all that they have made!
Come, also, Chiron, with thy numerous troop
Of centaurs, as well those who died beneath
The club of Hercules, as who escaped,
And stamp their crockery to dust; down fall
Their chimney; let them see it with their eyes,
And howl to see the ruin of their art,
While I rejoice; and if a potter stoop
into his furnace, may the fire
peep
Flash in his face and scorch it, that all men
Observe, thenceforth, equity and good faith.
October, 1790.

To

COWPER'S LATIN POEMS.

MONTES GLACIALES, IN OCEANO GER- Sic immensa diu stetit, æternumque stetisset

MANICO NATANTES.

EN. quæ prodigia, ex oris allata remotis,
Oras adveniunt pavefacta per æquora nostras!
Non equidem priscæ sæclum rediisse videtur
Pyrrha, cum Proteus pecus altos visere montes
Et sylvas, egit. Sed tempora vix leviora
Adsunt, evulsi quando radicitus alti

In mare descendunt montes, fluctusque perer

rant.

Quid vero hoc monstri est magis et mirabile visu?
Splendentes video, ceu pulchro ex ære vel auro
Conflatos, rutilisque accinctos undique gemmis,
Baccâ cærulea, et flammas imitante pyropo.
Ex oriente adsunt, ubi gazas optima tellus
Parturit omnigenas,quibus æva per omnia sumptu
Ingenti finxere sibi diademata reges?

Vix hoc crediderim. Non fallunt talia acutos
Mercatorum oculos: prius et quam littora Gangis
Liquissent, avidis gratissima præda fuissent.
Ortos unde putemus? An illos Ves'vius atrox
Protulit, ignivomisve ejecit faucibus Ætna?
Luce micant propria, Phœbive, per aëra purum
Nunc stimulantis equos, argentea tela retorquent?
Phobi luce micant. Ventis et fluctibus altis
Appulsi, et rapidis subter currentibus undis,
Tandem non fallunt oculos. Capita alta videre

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Congeries, hominum neque vi neque mobilis arte,
Littora ni tandem declivia deseruisset,
Pondere victa suo. Dilabitur. Omnia circum
Antra et saxa gemunt, subito concussa fragore,
Dum ruit in pelagum, tanquam studiosa natandi,
Ingens tota strues. Sic Delos dicitur olim,
Insula, in Egæo fluitasse erratica ponto.
Sed non ex glacie Delos; neque torpida Delum
Bruma inter rupes genuit nudum sterilemque.
Sed vestita herbis erat illa, ornataque nunquam
Decidua lauro; et Delum dilexit Apollo.
At vos, errones horrendi, et caligine digni
Cimmeria, Deus idem odit. Natalia vsetra,
Nubibus involvens frontem, non ille tueri
Sustinuit. Patrium vos ergo requirite cœlum!
Ite! Redite! Timete moras; ni leniter austro
Spirante, et nitidas Phobo jaculante sagittas
Hostili vobis, pereatis gurgite misti!

March 11, 1799.

ON THE ICE ISLANDS SEEN FLOATING
IN THE GERMAN OCEAN.

WHAT portents, from what distant region, ride,
Unseen till now in ours, the astonish'd tide?
In ages past, old Proteus, with his droves
Of sea-calves, sought the mountains and the
groves.

But now, descending whence of late they stood, Themselves the mountains seem to rove the flood.

Dire times were they, full charged with human

woes;

And these, scarce less calamitous than those. What view we now? More wondrous still!

Behold!

Like burnish'd brass they shine, or beaten gold; And all around the pearl's pure splendor show, And all around the ruby's fiery glow.

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