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THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I. WHAT slender youth, bedewed with liquid odours Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrha ? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness ? Oh, how oft shall he
On faith and changed gods complain, and seas

Rough with black winds and storms

Unwonted shall admire,
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold;
Who always vacant, always amiable,

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful! Hapless they
To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vowed
Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern god of sea.

FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH, 1670.
Brutus thus addresses DIANA in the country of LEOGECIA :-
GODDESS of shades, and huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep,
On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell
What land, what seat of rest thou bidd'st me seek,
What certain seat, where I may worship thee

For aye, with temples vowed, and virgin choirs.
To whom, sleeping before the altar, DIANA answers in a vision the same night.--

BRUTUS, far to the west, in the ocean wide
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,

Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old ;
Now void, it fits thy people. Thither bend
Thy course ; there shalt thou find a lasting seat;
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,
And kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might
Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold.

FROM DANTE.
Ah, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion, but those rich domains
That the first wealthy pope received of thee!

FROM PETRARCH. FOUNDED in chaste and humble poverty, 'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn, Impudent whore ! Where hast thou placed thy hope? In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth ? Another Constantine comes not in haste.

FROM ARIOSTO.

THEN passed he to a flowery mountain green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously :
This was that gift (if you the truth will have)
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave.

FROM HORACE.
WHOM do we count a good man? Whom but he
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate,
Who judges in great suits and controversies,
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause ?
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood,
Sees his foul inside through his whited skin.

FROM HORACE.

LAUGHING to teach the truth, What hinders ? as some teachers give to boys Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace.

FROM HORACE.

All barbarous people and their princes too,
All purple tyrants honour you,

The very wandering Scythians do.
Support the pillar of the Roman state,
Lest all men be involved in one man's fate,

Continue us in wealth and state,
Let wars and tumults ever cease.

FROM HORACE. The power that did create can change the scene Of things, make mean of great, and great of mean : The brightest glory can eclipse with might, And place the most obscure in dazzling light.

FROM CATULLUS.

THE worst of poets I myself declare,
By how much you the best of poets are.

FROM EURIPIDES.

This is true liberty, when freeborn men,
Having to advise the public, may speak free:
Which he who can and will deserves high praise :
Who neither can nor will may hold his peace.
What can be juster in a state than this?

FROM VIRGIL.

No eastern nation ever did adore
The majesty of sovereign princes more.

FROM VIRGIL.

AND Britons interwove held the purple hangings.

FROM HORACE.

JOKING decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can.

FROM SOPHOCLES. 'Tis you that say it, not I. You do the deeds, And your ungodly deeds find me the words.

FROM HOMER.

GLAUCUS, in Lycia we're adored as gods,
What makes 'twixt us and others so great odds?

FROM SENECA.

THERE can be slain
No sacrifice to God more acceptable,
Than an unjust and wicked king.

ITALIAN SONNETS.

TO AN ITALIAN LADY, PERHAPS LEONORA BARONL

I.

DONNA leggiadra, il cui bel nome onora

L'erbosa val di Reno e il nobil varco,
Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco

Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostrasi di fuora

De' suoi atti soavi giammai parco,
E i don, che son d'amor saette ed arco,

Là onde l' alta tua virtù s'infiora.
Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti,

Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,

Guardi ciascun agli occhi, ed agli orecchi
L'entrata chi di te si truova indegno;

Grazia sola di sù gli vaglia, innanti
Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.

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II.

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QUAL in colle aspro, all'imbrunir di sera,

L'avezza giovinetta pastorella
Va bagnando l'erbetta strana e bella

Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,

Così Amor meco insù la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,

Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso,

E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bell' Arno.
Amor lo volse, ed io all'altrui peso

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