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The pilot of the Galilean lake,
Two maffy keys he bore of metals twain,
(The golden opes, the iron fhuts amain)
He fhook his miter'd locks, and ftern befpake,
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold?
And shove away the worthy bidden guest;
Befides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,
That on the green turf fuck the honied showers, 140
The white pink, and the panfy freakt with jet,
The mufk-rofe, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To ftrow the laureat herfe where Lycid lies.
For fo to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmife.
Ay me! Whilft thee the shores, and founding feas
Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, 165 For Lycidas your forrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor;
So finks the day-ftar in the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves,
Where other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
That fing, and finging in their glory move,
Thus fang the uncouth swain to th' oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with fandals gray, He touch'd the tender ftops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: And now the fun had stretch'd out all the hills, And now was dropt into the western bay; At last he rofe, and twitch'd his mantle blue: To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
The Fifth ODE* of HORACE, Lib. I.
"Quis multa gracilis te puer in rofa,”
Rendered almoft word for word without rhyme, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit.
HAT flender youth bedew'd with liquid odors
Courts thee on roses in fome pleasant cave,
In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness? O how oft shall he
On faith and changed Gods complain, and feas
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who always vacant always amiable
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful? Hapless they
To whom thou untry'd seem'ft fair. Me in my
My dank and dropping weeds
To the ftern God of fea.
* First added in the edition of 1673.
Ad PYRRHAM. ODE V.
Horatius ex Pyrrhæ illecebris tanquam è naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, affirmat effe miferos.
UIS multa gracilis te puer in rofa
Cui flavam religas comam
Nigris æquora ventis
Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
Qui femper vacuam femper amabilem
Fallacis Miferi quibus