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He fears no human force, nor favage beast ; Impenetrable courage steels his manly breast.

IV.

Thus, late within the Sabine grove,

While free from care, and full of love,
I raise my tuneful voice, and stray
Regardless of myself and way,

A grizly wolf, with glaring eye,

View'd me unarm'd, yet pass'd unhurtful by.
A fiercer monfter ne'er, in queft of food,

Apulian forefts did moleft;

Numidia never faw a more prodigious beast;
Numidia, mother of the yellow brood,

Where the ftern lion thakes his knotted mane,

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And roars aloud for prey, and scours the spacious plain.

V.

Place me where no foft breeze of fummer wind

Did e'er the ftiffen'd foil unbind,

Where no refreshing warmth e'er durft invade, 45
But Winter holds his unmolefted feat,
In all his hoary robes array'd,

And rattling ftorms of hail, and noisy tempests beat.
Place me beneath the scorching blaze
Of the fierce fun's immediate rays,

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Where house or cottage ne'er were seen, Nor rooted plant or tree, nor fpringing green; Yet, lovely Lalage, my generous flame Shall ne'er expire; I'll boldly fing of thee, Charm'd with the mufic of thy name, And guarded by the gods of Love and Poetry. HORACE,

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H OR A CE,

BOOK II. ODE XVI.

TO GROS PH US.

"Otium Divos rogat in patenti

"Prenfus gæo," &c.

IMITATED IN PARAPHRASE.

I.

INDULGENT Quiet! power ferene,

Mother of Peace, and Joy, and Love!
O fay, thou calm propitious queen,
Say, in what folitary grove,

Within what hollow rock, or winding cell,

By human eyes unfeen,

Like fome retreated Druid doft thou dwell?

And why, illufive goddess! why,

When we thy manfion would furround,

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Why dost thou lead us through inchanted ground, To mock our vain research, and from our wishes fly?

II.

The wandering failors, pale with fear,
For thee the gods implore,

When the tempeftuous fea runs high,

And when, through all the dark benighted fky, 15

No

No friendly moon or stars appear

To guide their steerage to the shore:
For thee the weary foldier prays;
Furious in fight the fons of Thrace,

And Medes, that wear majestic by their fide
A full-charg'd quiver's decent pride,
Gladly with thee would pafs inglorious days,

Renounce the warrior's tempting praise,

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And buy thee, if thou might'st be sold, With gems, and purple vests, and stores of plunder'd

gold.

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III.

But neither boundless wealth, nor guards that wait Around the conful's honour'd gate,

Nor anti-chambers with attendants fill'd,

The mind's unhappy tumults can abate,

Or banish fullen cares, that fly

Across the gilded rooms of ftate,

And their foul nefts, like swallows, build

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Close to the palace-roofs, and towers that pierce the sky.
Much less will Nature's modest wants supply ;

And happier lives the homely fwain,
Who, in fome cottage, far from noise,
His few paternal goods enjoys,

Nor knows the fordid luft of gain,
Nor with Fear's tormenting pain
His hovering fleeps deftroys.

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IV.

Vain man! that in a narrow fpace

At endless game projects the daring spear!
For fhort is life's uncertain race;
Then why, capricious mortal! why
Doft thou for happiness repair

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To distant climates, and a foreign air ? Fool! from thyfelf thou canst not fly, Thyself, the fource of all thy care. So flies the wounded ftag, provok'd with pain, Bounds o'er the fpacious downs in vain ; The feather'd torment sticks within his fide, And from the smarting wound a purple tide Marks all his way with blood, and dyes the graffy plain.

V.

But fwifter far is execrable Care

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Than ftags, or winds that through the skies Thick-driving fnows and gather'd tempests bear; Purfuing Care the failing fhip out-flies, Climbs the tall veffel's painted fides; Nor leaves arm'd squadrons in the field, But with the marching horsemen rides,

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And dwells alike in courts and camps, and makes all

places yield.

VI.

Then, fince no ftate 's compleatly bleft,
Let's learn the bitter to allay
With gentle mirth, and wisely gay
Enjoy at least the present day,

And leave to fate the rest.

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Nor

Nor with vain fear of ills to come
Anticipate th' appointed doom.
Soon did Achilles quit the stage,
The hero fell by fudden death;
While Tithon to a tedious wasting age

Drew his protracted breath.

And thus old partial Time, my friend,
Perhaps unask'd to worthless me

Thofe hours of lengthen'd life may lend,

Which he'll refuse to thee.

VII.

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Thee fhining wealth and plenteous joys furround, And, all thy fruitful fields around,

Unnumber'd herds of cattle ftray.

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Thy harness'd steeds with sprightly voice Make neighbouring vales and hills rejoice, While finoothly thy gay chariot flies o'er the fwift meafur'd way.

To me the stars, with lefs profufion kind,

An humble Fortune have affign'd,

And no untuneful Lyric vein,

But a fincere contented mind,

That can the vile malignant crowd difdain.

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THE

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