TRANSLATION OF PRIOR'S CHLOE AND EUPHELIA.

I.

MERCATOR, vigiles oculos ut fallere poffit,
Nomine fub ficto trans mare mittit opes;

Lené fonat liquidumque meis Euphelia chordis,
Sed folam exoptant te, mea vota, Chlöe.

II.

Ad speculum ornabat nitidos Euphelia crines,
Cum dixit mea lux, heus, cane, fume lyram.
Namque lyram juxtà pofitam cum carmine vidit,
Suave quidem carmen dulcifonamque lyram,

III.

Fila lyræ vocemque paro, fufpiria furgunt,
Et mifcent numeris murmura mæfta meis,

Dumque tuæ memoro laudes, Euphelia, formæ,
Tota anima intereà pendet ab ore Chlöes.

IV.

Subrubet illa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem,
Me torquet mea mens confcia, pfallo, tremo;
Atque Cupidineâ dixit Dea cincta corona,
Heu! fallendi artem quam didicere parum.

BOAD ICE A:

A N O D E.

I.

WHEN the British warrior queen,

Bleeding from the Roman rods,

Sought, with an indignant mien,

Counsel of her country's gods,

II.

Sage beneath the spreading oak

Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Ev'ry burning word he spoke

Full of rage, and full of grief.

Princefs! if our aged eyes

III.

Weep upon thy matchlefs wrongs,

'Tis because resentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

IV.

Rome shall perish-write that word
In the blood that fhe has fpilt;

Perifh, hopeless and abhorr'd,

Deep in ruin as in guilt.

V.

Rome, for empire far renown'd,

Tramples on a thousand states;

Soon her pride shall kifs the ground

Hark! the Gaul is at her gates!

Other Romans fhall arife,

VI.

Heedlefs of a foldier's name;

Sounds, not arms, fhall win the prizeHarmony the path to fame.

VII.

Then the progeny that springs

From the forefts of our land,

Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,

Shall a wider world command,

VIII.

Regions Cefar never knew

Thy pofterity shall sway,

Where his eagles never flew,

None invincible as they.

IX.

Such the bard's prophetic words,

Pregnant with celestial fire,

Bending, as he fwept the chords

Of his sweet but awful lyre.

X.

She, with all a monarch's pride,

Felt them in her bofom glow;

Rufh'd to battle, fought, and died; Dying, hurl'd them at the foe.

XI.

Ruffians, pitiless as proud,

Heav'n awards the vengeance due;

Empire is on us bestow'd,

Shame and ruin wait for you,

HEROIS M.

THERE was a time when Ætna's filent fire

Slept unperceiv'd, the mountain yet entire;
When, conscious of no danger from below,
She tow'r'd a cloud-capt pyramid of fnow.
No thunders fhook with deep intestine sound
The blooming groves that girdled her around.
Her unctuous olives, and her purple vines,
(Unfelt the fury of those bursting mines)
The peafant's hopes, and not in vain, affur'd,

In peace upon her floping fides matur'd.