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But now my oat proceeds,

And liftens to the herald of the fea

That came in Neptune's plea;

He afk'd the waves, and afk'd the fellon winds,

What hard anishap hath doom'd this gentle swain ?
And question'd every guft of rugged winds
That blows from off each beaked promontory;
They knew not of his story,

And fage Hippotades their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon ftray'd,
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her fifters play'd.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark

Built in th' eclipfe, and rigg'd with curses dark,
That funk fo low that facred head of thine.

Next Camus, reverend fire, went footing flow,
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet fedge,

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Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105
Like to, that fanguin flower infcrib'd with woe,
Ah! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
Lait came, and laft did go,

The pilot of the Galilean lake,

Two maffy keys he bore of metals twain,

(The golden opes, the iron fhuts amain)

He fhook his miter'd locks, and ftern befpake,

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How well could I have fpar'd for thee, young (wain,.
Enow of fuch as for their bellies' fake

Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Of other care they little reckoning make,
Than how to fcramble at the fhearers' feast,

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And shove away the worthy bidden gueft; Chold Blind mouths! that fcarce theinfelves know how to A fheep-hook, or have learn'd ought elfe the least 120

That

That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!

What recks it them? What need they? They are fped;
And when they lift, their lean and flashy fongs
Grate on their fcrannel pipes of wretched ftraw;
The hungry fheep look up, and are not fed,

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But fwoll'n with wind, and the rank mift they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion fpread:

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Befides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace; and nothing faid,
But that two-handed engin at the door,
Stands ready to finite once, and fmire no more.
Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
That fhrunk thy ftreams; return, Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither caft
Their bells, and flowrets of a thoufand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers ufe
Of fhades, and wanton winds, and gufhing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the fwart ftar fparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,
green turf fuck the honied fhowers, 140
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrofe that forfaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jeffamine,
The white pink, and the panfy freakt with jet,
The glowing violet,

That on

the

The mufk-rofe, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
With cowflips wan that hang the penfive head,
And every flower that fad embroidery wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty fhed,

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Ay me! Whilst thee the fhores, and founding feas Wafh far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, 155 Whether beyond the ftormy Hebrides,

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Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Vifit'ft the bottom of the monftrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moift vows deny'd,
Sleep'ft by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great vifion of the guarded mount
Looks tow'ard Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, 165 For Lycidas your forrow is not dead,

Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor;
So finks the day-ftar in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new fpangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning fky:

So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high,

Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves, Where other groves and other ftreams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,

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And hears the unexpreffive nuptial fong,

In the bleft kingdoms meek of joy and love.

There entertain him all the Saints above,

In folemn troops and fweet focieties,

That fing, and finging in their glory move,
And wipe the rears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the fhepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompenfe, and fhalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Thus fang the uncouth fwain to t

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th oaks and rills,

While the ftill morn went out with fandals gray,
He touch'd the tender Rops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:
And now the fun had ftretch'd out all the hills, 190
And now was dropt into the western bay;

At laft he rofe, and twitch'd his mantle blue:
Tomorrow to, fresh woods, and pastures new.

XVIII.

The Fifth ODE * of HORACE, Lib, I.

"Quis multa gracilis te puer in rofa,"

Rendered almoft word for word without rhyme, ac cording to the Latin meafure, as near as the language will permit.

W

HAT flender youth bedew'd with liquid odors Courts thee on rofes in fome pleafant cave, Tyrrha for whom bind'ft thon

In wreaths thy golden hair,

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Plain in thy neatnefs? O how oft fhall he

On faith and changed Gods complain, and feas
Rough with black winds and ftoris
Unwonted fhall admire!

Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who always vacant always amiable

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful? Haplefs they

To whom thou untry'd feem'ft fair. Me in my vow'd

Picture the facred wall declares t have hung

My dank and dropping weeds,

To the ftern God of fea.

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First added in the edition of 1673.

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Horatius ex Pyrrhæ illecebris tanquam è naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, affirmat effe miferos.

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UIS multa gracilis te puer in rosa
Perfufus liquidis urget odoribus,
Grato, Pyrrha, fub antro?

Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex munditiis? heu quoties fidem
Mutatofque deos flebit, et afpera
Nigris æquora ventis

Emirabitur infolens!

Qui nunc te fruitur c

credulus aurea,

Qui femper vacuam femper amabilem

Sperat, nefcius auræ

Fallacis Mileri quibus

Intentata nites. Me tabula facer

Votiva paries indicat uvida

Sufpendiffe potenti

Veftimenta maris Deo..

XIX.

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15

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BEC Lord,

And with tiff vows renounc'd his Liturgy,
To feize the widow'd whore Plurality,

From them whose fin ye envied, not abhorr'd

Dare

* This alfo was first added in the edition of 1673.

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