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3. I've no claw nor tyger-eye,

I'm no Lybian lion I,

Pursuing, fnatcht from tender dam,

Cruel lacerating, lamb.

4. Cease at length thy vain alarms,
Mature in all thy virgin charms,
For man now leave thy mother's arms.

I.

Ó DE XXIV. To VIRGIL,

On the Death of QUINTILIUS Varus,

Addreffed to the Memory of Mr. R. CLAY, of LIVERPOOL.

Quis, defiderio fit pudor aut modus
Tam chari capitis, præcipe lugubres
Cantus Melpomene, cui liquidam pater
Vōcēm, cum cĭthăra dědĭt.

WHA

HAT fhame, or bound, in lofs fo dear,
T'o'erflowings of the pious tear?

Melpomenè the dirge begin,

Heaven-blefs'd, the deepest of the nine,
With melting voice, and lyre divine,
Accompany his bier.

2. Alas! our dear Quintilius lies a
Eternal fleep has clos'd his eyes,
To whom ye spotlefs fifters rare,
O modefty of afpect mild,
And probity, of heart unfoil'd,
And faith, and truth of bofom bare,

5

• Κείται Πατροκλος,

ΤΟ

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* When will ye fhew, in fons of men,
Through endless time, his like again?

3. A Thousand weeping o'er his pall,
Though by the good lamented all,
O Virgil thine the deepest moan,
As parent o'er her dying fon;

Vain-pious bending o'er his urn
Unto the gods you mourn,
Ah! not fo given, by doom of heaven,
Requesting, wish't return.

4. Tho' fweeter than Orphéan mood,
Thy lyre could tame the tyger brood,

And lure the lift'ning woods,
Ah! ne'er recall'd by Thracian ftrain,
Must be reftor'd to phantom vain,
Re-animating floods.

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5. Whom

The celebrated Epitaph of Sir Philip Sidney's fifter, mentioned by Addison. Spect. No. 322, turns upon the fame thought, but much more poetically expressed by our English bard;

On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke ·

Underneath this marble Hearse
Lies the Subject of all Verse,
Sidney's Sifter, Pembroke's Mother:
Death, ere thou haft kill'd another,
Fair, and learn'd, as good as fhe,

Time fhall throw a dart at thee.,

In Latin thus: Cenditur hoc tumulo fapiens pia fida matrona,
Argumentum ingens carminis, atque decus,

Pulchra tibi Sydneye foror, tibi Pembroche mater,
Nobilitate pari fulget utrinque domus ;

Huic virtute prius fimilem, quam tollere pais,

Et telo TEMPUS, mors fera te, feriet.

O DE XXV. To LYDIA,

Parcius junctas quatiunt feneftras
Ictibus crebris juvenes protervi
Nec tibi fomnos adimunt, amatque
Janua limen

Quæ prius multum facilis movebat
Cardines, &c,

'm told the herd of rakes profess'd,
Thy windows rarely now infest,
Nor break thy gates, nor placid rest,
Impertinent, in riot;

Thy door once kindly pleas'd to move
On pliant hinge, begins to love

And hugs her threshold quiet.

2, And lefs and lefs-you hear in song, "Thy faithful lover weeps,

"Ah! perishing the cold night long

"My cruel Lydia sleeps,

Now thou in turn,

turn, fhalt weep and burn,

Decay'd, and vain, in porch or lane,

&ills

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And

5.

And hear the taunts of proud gallants,

And in tempestuous low'r

The Southern raging o'er the plain,
Moft in the loweft lunar wane,

And plying late without a mate,

Shalt ftand the drenching fhow'r.

What flagrant luft of blood, and flame
Infuriates the filly's dam

+ In vernal maddest roam;

Shall at thy fervid marrow lie,
And in thy ulcer'd liver fry

Unquench'd in plangent doom plaintive,
That-lovers pafs thee with a frown,

And leave thee there to fhiver,

Their brows with recent garlands crown,
And throw dry wint'ry branches down,

§ Confocial Hebers's river.

‡ Thracian, in Hor. for any fqually wind.

This furor of the madding mares is finely touch'd by Virgil, Geor. 3, v. 266.

Scilicet ante omnes furor eft infignis equarum

Et mentem Venus ipfa dedit

Illas ducit amor trans Gargara transque sonantem &c.

Vere magis, quia vere calor redit offibus, &c.

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We often catch Horace and Virgil contending in expreffion and fentiment, and in lucky hit of phrafe (curiofa felicitas) Horace often furpaffes him, but in grace and dig. pity Virgil is always his fuperior.

Hyemis fodali

Dedicet Hebro; a cold wintry river, like thyfolf,

ODE

Σ.

O DE XXVI. To LAMIA.

Mufis amicus.

LEST in my dear Calliopé,

1.BLES

I fling away all gloomy care. To the tempeftuous winds to tear,

Or drown in Adrian fea.

2. What is't to me what tyrant reigns
O'er Arctic, or Antarctic plains?
Secure of every fear that vexes
And Tiridates' much perplexes;
O mufe! that lov'ft the purest spring,
Thy early choiceft fragrance bring,

3.

And weaving round his temples spread
Thy richest wreath, without thy aid,
My honours grace not Lamia's head.

Refit and tune the Lesbian lyre,
Let every Sifter join in choir;

'Tis yours to confecrate (ye Nine)
And in deferv'd applause combine.

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Away