Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,

That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jeffamine,
The white pink, and the panfy freakt with jet,
The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
With cowflips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that fad embroidery wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty fhed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,

140

145

150

To ftrow the laureat herfe where Lycid lies.

For fo to interpose a little ease,

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.

Ay me! Whilft thee the fhores, and founding feas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd,

Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
Vifit'ft the bottom of the monftrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows deny'd,
Sleep'ft by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great vifion of the guarded mount
Looks tow'ard Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

155

160

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-star in the ocean bed,

And

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 ftreams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpreffive nuptial fong,
In the bleft kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In folemn troops and sweet societies,

175

That fing, and finging in their glory move,
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the fhepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the fhore,
In thy large recompenfe, and fhalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

180

185

Thus fang the uncouth fwain to th' oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with fandals gray, He touch'd the tender stops 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.

190

XVIII.

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.

W

HAT flender youth bedew'd with liquid odors Courts thee on roses in fome pleasant cave, Pyrrha ? for whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,

Plain in thy neatness? O how oft shall he

On faith and changed Gods complain, and feas
Rough with black winds and ftorms
Unwonted fhall admire!

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

Picture the facred wall declares t' have hung

My dank and dropping weeds

To the ftern God of fea.

*Firft added in the edition of 1673.

10

my vow'd

15

Ad

Ad PYRRHAM. ODE V.

Horatius ex Pyrrhæ illecebris tanquam è naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, affirmat esse miferos.

Q

UIS multa gracilis te puer in rofa
Perfufus liquidis urget odoribus,
Grato, Pyrrha, fub antro?

Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex munditiis? heu quoties fidem
Mutatofque deos flebit, et afpera
Nigris æquora ventis

Emirabitur infolens!

Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,

Qui femper vacuam femper amabilem
Sperat, nefcius auræ

Fallacis Miferi quibus

M 4

XIX.

On the new Forcers of Confcience under the Long PARLIAMENT *.

BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate

Lord,

And with ftiff vows renounc'd his Liturgy,
To feize the widow'd whore Plurality,

From them whofe fin ye envied, not abhorr'd,
Dare ye for this adjure the civil fword

To force our confciences, that Christ set free,
And ride us with a claffic hierarchy,

5

Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford?
Men whofe life, learning, faith, and pure intent,
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, 10
Muft now be nam'd and printed Heretics

By shallow Edwards and Scotch what-d’ye-call:
But we do hope to find out all your

tricks,

Your plots and packing, worse than those of Trent, That fo the Parliament May with their wholesome and preventive shears Clip your phylacteries, though bauk your ears, And fuccour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Prefbyter is but Old Priest writ large.

This alfo was firft added in the edition of 1673.

20

SONNET S.