VII.

Be thou but fafe, we'll fafely fpend our Days,
And undisturb'd will Plants and Flow'rs raise;
Will lop the Sycamore, and prune the Vine,

V

And to our own Freeholds will come,

Mindful of him that gifts us with a Home,

And toast our fam'd Defender's Health, by which we dine.

VIII.

To thee our Wishes and our Cups go round,
With many Vows and many Bumpers crown'd;
While we to Royal Anna's join thy Name,
With the fame Rev'rence to thy Praife,
As Greece in Ancient Days,

Shew'd to their Caftor's or Alcides' deathless Fame.

IX.

O matchless Prince! For fo the Mufe requests,
Return, and lengthen our Thanksgiving-Feafts,
Extend them to an endless Round of Years:
Or make one Holiday of Time;
Till thou Coeleftial Regions climb,
And leave us all difconfolate in Tears.

These are our Day-break Wishes when à-thirft we wake, And these our Sun-fet Vows, when we full Bumpers take.

Tibi fumme Rheni Domitor, Parens Orbis,

Pudice Princeps, gratius agunt Urbes.

Mart. L.ix.

ODE

By

ODE VII. 1

Sir WILLIAM TEMPLE.

HE Snows are melted all away,

TH

The Fields grow flow'ry, green and gay,
The Trees put out their tender Leaves,
And all the Streams that went aftray,
The Brook again into her Bed receives.

See! The whole Earth has made a change,
The Nymphs and Graces naked range
About the Fields, who fhruak before
Into their Caves. The empty Grange

Prepares its Room, for a new Summer's Store.

Left thou should'st hope Immortal things,
The changing Year inftruction brings,
The fleeting Hour, that steals away
The Beggar's Time, and Life of Kings,
But ne'er returns them, as it does the Day.

The Cold grows foft with Western Gales,
The Summer over Spring prevails,

But yields to Autumn's fruitful Rain,
As this to Winter-Storms and Hails;

Each Lofs the hafting Moon repairs again.

But we, when once our Race is done,
With Tullus and Anchifes' Son

(Tho' rich like one, like t'other good)
To Duft and Shades, without a Sun,
Defcend, and fink in deep Oblivion's Flood,

I

Who

Who knows, if the kind Gods will give
Another Day to Men that live

In hope of many diftant Years,
Or if one Night more shall retrieve
The Joys thou lofeft by thy idle Fears?

The pleasant Hours thou spend'ft in Health,
The use thou mak'st of Youth and Wealth,

As what thou giv'ft among thy Friends,
Efcapes thy Heirs, to thofe the Stealth.

Of Time and Death, where Good and Evil ends.

For when that comes, nor Birth, nor Fame,

Nor Piety, nor honeft Name,

Can e'er reftore thee. Thefeus bold,

Nor chafte Hippolitus could tame

Devouring Fate, that fpares nor Young nor Old.

grace.

That Earth which wou'd not to the Plough-fhare yield,
Is fofter now, and eafie to be till'd.

And frozen Streams, thaw'd by th' approaching Sun,
With whifp'ring Murmurs in their Channels run:
The naked Nymphs and Graces dance around,
And o'er the flow'ry Meadows nimbly bound;

The

The Months that run on Time's immortal Wheels,

The Seasons, treading on each other's Heels,
The winged Hours that swiftly pals away,
And fpitefully confume the fmiling Day,
Tell us, that all things muft with them decay.
The Year rolls round us in a conftant Ring,
And fultry Summer wates the milder Spring;
Whole hot Meridian quickly over past,

Declines to Autumn, which, with bount'ous hafte,
Comes crown'd with Grapes, but fuddenly is croft,
Cold Winter nips his Vintage with a Froft.
The Moon renews its Orb, to fhine more bright;
But when Death's Hand puts out our mortal Light,
With us alas, 'tis ever ever Night!

With Tullus and with Ancus we shall be,

And the brave Souls of vanquish'd Hero's fee.
Who knows if Gods above, who all things fway,
Will fuffer thee to live another Day?

Then please thy Genius, and betimes take care
To leave but little to thy greedy Heir.
When among Crowds of Ghofts thou shalt appear,
And from the Judge thy fatal Sentence hear,
Not Birth, nor Eloquence, nor Wealth, nor all
That thou canft plead, can the paft Doom recal.
Diana, tho' a Goddess, cannot take

Her chafte Hippolitus from Lethe's Lake.
Pirithous bound in Fetters must remain.

Thefeus no more can break his adamantine Chain.

}

ODE

ODE IX.

By Mr. STEP NE Y.

Printed in the Firft Mifcellany, Page 175.

1.

Erfes immortal as my Bays I fing,

VE

When fuited to my trembling String:

When by ftrange Art both Voice and Lyre agree
To make one pleafing Harmony.

All Poets are by their blind Captain led:

(For none e'er had the facrilegious Pride

To tear the well-plac'd Laurel from his aged Head)
Yet Pindar's rolling dithyrambick Tide

Hath ftill this Praise, That none presume to fly
Like him, but flag too low, or foar too high.
Still does Stefichorus his Tongue

Sing sweeter than the Bird which on it hung.
Anacreon ne'er too old can grow,

Love from every Verfe does flow:
Still Sappho's Strings do feem to move,
Inftructing all her Sex to Love.

II..

Golden Rings of flowing Hair

More than Hellen did infnare;

Others a Prince's Grandeur did admire,
And wondring, melted to Defire.

Not only skilful Tencer knew

To direct Arrows from the Bended Yew.
Troy more than once did fall,

Tho' hireling Gods rebuilt its nodding Wall.

Was