IV. Vain man! that in a narrow space At endless game projects the daring spear! Then why, capricious mortal! why 45 To diftant climates, and a foreign air? Fool! from thyfelf thou canst not fly, Thyfelf, the fource of all thy care. So flies the wounded stag, provok'd with pain, Bounds o'er the fpacious downs in vain ; The feather'd torment fticks within his fide, And from the finarting wound a purple tide Marks all his way with blood, and dyes the graffy plain.. V. But fwifter far is execrable Care 50 55 Than ftags, or winds that through the skies 60 And dwells alike in courts and camps, and makes all places yield. VI. Then, fince no state's compleatly bleft, With gentle mirth, and wifely gay And leave to fate the reft. 65 Nor Nor with vain fear of ills to come Anticipate th' appointed doom. The hero fell by fudden death; While Tithon to a tedious wafting age Drew his protracted breath. And thus old partial Time, my friend, Perhaps unafk'd to worthless me Thofe hours of lengthen'd life may lend, Which he'll refufe to thee. VII. 70 75 Thee fhining wealth and plenteous joys furround, 80 Thy harness'd steeds with fprightly voice Make neighbouring vales and hills rejoice, While smoothly thy gay chariot flies o'er the fwift meafur'd way. To me the fears, with lefs profusion kind, An humble Fortune have affign'd, And no untuneful Lyric vein, But a fincere contented mind, That can the vile malignant crowd disdain. 85 THE THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE. FROM THE FRENCH. ONCE, on a folemn feftal.day Held by th' immortals in the skies, Flora had fummon'd all the Deities 1 Ye fhining graces of my courtly train, A queen I'll chufe, with fpotlefs honour fair, The Deities that ftood around, you know Then faid, Fair goddess, do 5 10 15 20 grow ? The The vileft thistle that infefts the plain Will think his tawdry painted pride Deferves the crown; and, if deny'd, Perhaps with traitor-plots moleft your reign. Vain are your fears, Flora reply'd, 'Tis fix'd and hear how I'll the caufe decide. Deep in a venerable wood, Where Oaks, with vocal skill endued, Did wondrous oracles of old impart, Beneath a little hill's inclining fide A grotto 's feen where nature's art Is exercis'd in all her fmiling pride. Retir'd in this sweet graffy cell, A lovely wood-nymph once did dwell. 25 30 35 She always pleas'd; for more than mortal fire Shone in her eyes, and did her charms inspire; A Dryad bore the beauteous nymph, a Sylvan was her fire. Chafte, wife, devout, fhe ftill obey'd With humble zeal heaven's dread commands, 40 To every action ask'd our aid, And oft before our altars pray'd ; Pure was her heart, and undefil'd her hands. She's dead and from her sweet remains The wondrous mixture I would take, 45 This much defir'd, this perfect flower to make. Affift, and thus, with our transforming pains, We'll dignify the garden-beds, and grace our favourite plains. Thi Th' applauding Deities with pleasure heard, A bufy face the God of Gardens wore ; From various fweets th' exhaling fpirits drew; Of richeft fruits a plenteous ftore; 50 55 And Vefta promis'd wondrous things to do. Of Smiles and Graces: the plump God of Wine And fill'd large goblets with his juice divine. бо Thus charg'd, they feek the honour'd shade On a foft couch of turf the body lay; 65 Th' approaching Deities prefs'd all around, In filence, and with awe profound. Flora thrice bow'd, and thus was heard to pray. Exert thy great creative power! 70 Let this fair corpse be mortal clay no more; Transform it to a tree, to bear a beauteous flower Scarce had the Goddess spoke; when fee! The nymph's extended limbs the form of branches wear: Behold the wondrous change, the fragrant tree! 75 Heavens ! |