Till having spent his Feather'd Store,
When that supply'd Revenge no more,
Enflam'd with Rage, a living Dart,
He shot himself into my Heart;
Diffolv'd my Soul, and revell'd there;
In vain a useless Shield I rear,

An outward Guard to Folly turns,
When in

15

my

Breaft the Battle burns.

20

R

ICH in Pleasures, I disdain

Sardian Gyges' wealthy Reign. Gold's a Folly that has Wings;

Mirth's too great to envy Kings.

All

the fame Complaint in an Epigram, Antholog. L. 7.

P. 457.

Μηκέτι τις πλήξεις Πόθε βέλη οδόκην 28

Εἰς ἐμὲ λάβρος Ἔρως εξεκένωσεν ὅλην.

Let none afraid of Cupid's Arrows be,

The God has spent his Quiver all on me..

VER. 2. Sardian Gyges' weakby Reign.] Gyges at

Ἐμοὶ μέλει μύροισι
Καταβρέχειν ὑπήνε
Ἐμοὶ μέλει ῥόδοισι
Κατατέφειν κάρτα.
Το σήμερον μέλει μοι
Τὸ δ' αὔριον τις οἶδεν ;

5

10

Ἕως

tain'd the Crown of Lydia by the following Accident, as Herodotus informs us. His Mafter Candaules having a very beautiful Queen, was so vain of his Happiness, that he could not rest till he had privately admitted his Favourite Gyges to fee her naked; which she discovering, was fo exafperated at the Affront, that fhe fent for Gyges, and gave him his Choice, either immediate Death, or to kill Candaules, and take her and the Kingdom for his Reward. Gyges proving afterwards a Prince of great Prudence and Intelligence, was fabled to have a Ring by which he could render himself invifible wherever he pleas'd. Sardis was the Name of his Metropolis, which was fo wealthy, that its Riches became a Proverb.

VE R. 9 & 10. Court the prefent Hour to ftay, Fate mayn't have another Day.] An Epigram in the Anthologia gives the fame agreeable Advice.

Πῖνε, καὶ ἀφραίνε· τί γ αὔριον, ἢ τί τὸ μέλλον

Οὐδεὶς γινώσκει. μὴ τρέχε, μὴ κοπία.

Ως διίασαι, χάρισαι, μετάδΘ, φάγε, θνητὰ λογίζε, Τὸ ζῆν τὸ μὴ ζῆν ἐδὲν ὅλως απέχει.

Πᾶς

Πᾶς ὁ βίΘ- τοῖος δε, ῥοπὴν μόνον ἂν προλάβη τις. Αν ἢ θανῆς, ἑτέρα πάντα, σὺ δ ̓ ἐδὲν ἔχεις. None know the Morrow; drink, and fweetly fmile, Give Fate thy Cares, and cease thy anxious Toil; Indulge thy Tafte, the present Hour enjoy, Remember, to be born is but to die.

He only lives, who lives to Pleasure free,
Thy treafur'd Heaps will foon another's be.
Horace fays the fame.

Quid fit futurum cras, fuge quærere: &
Quem fors dierum cumque dabit, lucra
Appone: nec dulces amores

Sperne puer, neque tu choreas;

Donec virenti canities abeft

Morofa:

Od.

9.

Lib. 1.

To-morrow, and her Works defy;
Lay hold upon the present Hour,
And fnatch the Pleasures paffing by,
Το put them out of Fortune's Pow'r :
Nor Love, nor Love's Delights difdain,
Whate'er thou get'ft to Day is Gain.

Dryden.

VER. I.

VE R. 1. Thebes fatal Wars your Mufe recites.] The Poet alludes to the famous War of the seven Captains against Thebes, occafion'd by Eteocles the Son of Oedipus, denying his Brother Polynices his Turn in the Kingdom, tho' they had agreed to reign alternately: The two Brothers kill'd each other, and their Mother Focafta flew herfelf for Grief Efchylus has wrote a Tragedy, and Statius an Heroic Poem on the Subject.

VER. 2. Hefings of Phrygia's clam'rous Fights. ] Meaning the Trojan War, in which the Greeks engag'd for the Recovery of Helen, the Queen of Menelaus, King of Sparta, whom Paris had stolen from her Husband. Anacreon calls the Phrygians clam'rous, because, as Homer tells us, thofe People always went to Battle with

great

Whilft no Tempeft blots your Sky,
Drink, and throw the fportful De.
But to Bacchus drench the Ground,
Ere you push the Goblet round.
Left fome fatal Illness cry,
Drink no more the Cup of Joy!

15

O N

O DE

XVI.

HIMSELF.

HEBES' fatal Wars your Mufe recites,

THe fings of Phrygia's clam'rous Fights;

But

great Cries; but the Greeks, on the contrary, in profound Silence.

Τρῶες μ' κλαγγῇ τ' ἐνοπῇ τ ̓ ἴσαν

Οἱ δ ̓ ἄρ ̓ ἴσαν σιγή, εμεα πνείοντες, 'Αχαιοίο
Ἐν θυμῷ μεμαῶτες ἀλεξέμων ἀλλήλοισιν.

With Shouts the Trojans, rushing from afar,
Proclaim their Motions, and provoke the War.

*

*

*

*

* *

But filent, breathing Rage, refolv'd and skill'd,
By mutual Aids to fix a doubtful Field,