ἘΠει βροτος ἐτέχθω, Βιότε τρίβον δεν Χρόνον, ὃν παρῆλθον, ἔΓνων, Μέθετέ με αἱ Φροντίδες 5 Πριν Our English Spenfer uses the fame Turn of Expreffion. For not, to have been dipt in Lethe Lake, Barnes. VER. 8 & 9. But fince no treafur'd Heaps have Pow'r To ftay the Fate-compelling Hour.] They that truft in their Wealth, and boaft themselves in the Insensate, why should I complain, And render Life's fhort Bleffings vain? 10 珍味蛋味 Ο Ν HIMSELF. PRUNG as I am, of Human Seed, SPR And for Life's little Race decreed; The Way I've come I only know, Unconscious of the Way I go. Then, anxious Care, a laft Adieu! My mirthful Heart's no Home for you. 5 Ere the Multitude of their Riches; none of them can by any Means redeem his Brother, nor give to God a Ranfom for him. Pfal. xlix. 6, 7. VER. 5. Then, anxious Care, a laft Adieu.] Ite procul, durum cura genus, ite labores. Tibul. L. 3. Eleg. 6. VER. 9 & 10. Πρὶν ἐμὲ φθάσῃ τελευτην, LOGOUT ΩΔ Η KE'. VER. 9 & 10. And smile, and dance, and faweetly play,. With foft Lyæus ever-gay.] Julian, in his Epitaph on Anacreon, has made him re peat the fame agreeable Doctrine. Πολλάκι μὲν τίδ ̓ ἄεισα, καὶ ἐκ τύμβο ἢ βοήσων VER. 1 & 2. Ere Fate shall change my Day to Night, And smile, and dance, and fweetly play, With foft Lyaus, ever-gay. W O DE XXV. HIMSELF. HENE'ER I drain the focial Bowl, It's all a Sunshine of the Soul: For why should Thought on Joy intrude? Or what's to me Solicitude? Whene'er Death calls, I must obey; From Life's smooth Path why should I stray? VER. 1 & 2. Whene'er I drain the facial Bowl, 10 5 Great Τ Εἰς ἑαυτόν. Ὅτ ̓ εἰς με ΒάκχΘ. ἔλθῃς Εὕδασιν αἱ μέριμνα Δοκῶν δ ̓ ἔχειν τὰ Κροίσει, Θέλω καλῶς αείδειν. Κισσοςεφής ἢ κείμαι, Πατῶ δ ̓ ἅπαντα θυμῷ. 5 -1OP VE R. 9. For while we drain the roly Bowl.] The Original of this Line, in the firft Editions, was Eu Tδε πίνειν ἡμᾶς, which being corrupt, made Stephens think that the firft Line of the Ode ought to be repeated inftead of it; but the Correction of Scaliger, who reads, Σω τῷ τιῶν τὰ ἡμᾶς, renders the Conjecture unnecef fary. Barnes. VER. 3. In Thought as rich as Lydia's King.] Cra fus, |