In vain did Nature's wife command
Divide the Waters from the Land,
If daring Ships and Men prophane
Invade th' inviolable Main ;
Th' eternal Fences over-leap,
And pafs at will the boundless Deep.
No toil, no hardship can restrain
Ambitious Man inur'd to pain;
The more confin'd, the more he tries,
And at forbidden quarry flies.
Thus bold Prometheus did aspire,
And ftole from Heav'n the feeds of Fire:
A train of Ills, a ghastly Crew,
The Robber's blazing track purfue;
Fierce Famine with her Meagre Face,
And Fevers of the fiery Race,
In fwarms th' offending Wretch furround,...
All brooding on the blasted Ground :
And limping Death, lafh'd on by Fate,
Comes up to fhorten half our date.
This made not Dedalus beware,
With borrow'd wings to fail in Air:
To Hell Alcides forc'd his way,
Plung'd through the Lake, and fnatch'd the Prey.
Nay fcarce the Gods, or heav'nly Climes,
Are fafe from our audacious Crimes;
We reach at Jove's Imperial Crown,
And pull th' unwilling thunder down.
The ninth ODE of the first Book of
HORAC E..
Ehold yon' Mountain's hoary height
Made higher with new Mounts of Snow;
Again behold the Winter's weight
Oppress the lab'ring Woods below:
And Streams, with icy Fetters bound,
Benumb'd and crampt to folid Ground.
II.
With well-heap'd Logs diffolve the Cold,
And feed the genial Hearth with Fires;
Produce the Wine, that makes us bold,
And fprightly Wit and Love infpires:
For what hereafter fhall betide,
God, if 'tis worth his Care, provide.
III.
Let him alone, with what he made,
To toss and turn the World below;
At his Command the Storms invade ;
The Winds by his Commiffion blow;
'Till with a Nod he bids 'em cease,
And then the Calm returns, and all is peace.
IV.
To-morrow and her Works defie,
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 disdain ;
Whate'er thou get'ft to-day, is Gain.
Secure thofe golden early Joys,
That Youth unfour'd with Sorrow bears,
Ere with'ring Time the tafte destroys,
With Sickness and unwieldy Years.
For active Sports, for pleafing Reft,
This is the time to be poffeft;
The beft is but in Seafon best.
Th' appointed Hour of promis'd Blifs,
The pleafing Whisper in the dark,
The half unwilling willing Kiss,
The Laugh that guides thee to the Mark,
When the kind Nymph wou'd Coyness feign,
And hides but to be found again ;
Thefe, these are Joys the Gods for Youth ordain.
The twenty-ninth ODE of the third Book of HORA CE.
Paraphras'd in Pindarick Verfe, and inferib'd to the Right Honourable Laurence Earl of Rochester.
Efcended of an ancient Line,
That long the Tuscan Scepter fway'd,
Make hafte to meet the generous Wine,
Whose piercing is for thee delay'd:
The rofy Wreath is ready made;
And artful hands prepare
The fragrant Syrian Oil, that fhall perfume thy Hair.
When the Wine sparkles from afar,
And the well-natur'd Friend cries, Come away; Make haste, and leave thy Business and thy Care: No mortal int'reft can be worth thy stay.
Leave for a while thy coftly Country Seat;
And, to be great indeed, forget
The naufeous Pleasures of the Great:
Make hafte and come :
Come, and forfake thy cloying store ;
Thy Turret that furveys, from high,
The fmoke, and wealth, and noise of Rome;
And all the bufy pageantry
That wife Men fcorn, and Fools adore :
Come, give thy Soul a loose, and tafte the Pleasures of
Sometimes 'tis grateful to the Rich to try
A fhort viciffitude, and fit of Poverty :
A favoury Difh, a homely Treat,
Where all is plain, where all is neat,
Without the ftately fpacious Room,
The Perfian Carpet, or the Tyrian Loom,
Clear up the cloudy Foreheads of the Great.
The Sun is in the Lion mounted high;
The Syrian Star
And with his fultry Breath infects the Sky;
The Ground below is parch'd, the Heav'ns above us fry. The Shepherd drives his fainting Flock
Beneath the covert of a Rock,
And feeks refreshing Rivulets nigh:
The Sylvans to their Shades retire,
Thofe Shades and Stream's new Shades and Streams
[ing fire. And want a cooling breeze of Wind to fan the rag
Thou, what befits the new Lord Mayor,
And what the City Factions dare,
And what the Gallick Arms will do,
And what the Quiver-bearing Foe,
Art anxiously inquifitive to know :
But God has, wifely, hid from human Sight
The dark Decrees of future Fate,
And fown their Seeds in depth of Night;
He laughs at all the giddy turns of State;
When Mortals fearch too foon, and fear too late.
VII
Enjoy the present smiling Hour;
And put it out of Fortune's Pow'r :
The tide of Bufinefs, like the running Stream,
Is fometimes high, and fometimes low,
A quiet Ebb, or a tempeftuous Flow,
And always in extreme.
Now with a noiseless gentle Course
It keeps within the middle Bed;
Anon it lifts aloft the Head,
And bears down all before it with impetuous force:
And Trunks of Trees come rowling down,
Sheep and their Folds together drown:
Both House and Homested into Seas are born;
And Rocks are from their old Foundations torn,
And Woods, made thin with Winds, their fcatter'd Ho
Happy the Man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to Day his own :
He who, fecure within, can fay,
To-Morrow do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-Day.
Be fair, or foul, or rain, or fhine,
The Joys I have poffefs'd, in fpite of Fate are mine.
Not Heav'n it felf upon the pait has Pow'r ;
But what has been, has been, and I have had my Hour,
IX.
Fortune, that, with malicious Joy,
Does Man her Slave oppress,
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