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The tenth Ode in Horace 1. 3. Paraphrafed Extremum Tanaim fi biberes, Lyce.

ΤΗ

I.

HO' you, my Lyce, in fome Northern Flood
Had chill'd the Current of your Blood','--
Or loft your sweet engaging Charms
In fome Tartarian Husband's icy Arms;
Were yet one Spark of Pity left behind,
To form the leaft Impreffion on your Mind,
Sure you must grieve, fure you must figh,
Sure drop fome Pity from your Eye,
To fee your Lover proftrate on the Ground,

With gloomy Night, and black Defpair encompass'd all

H.

Hark! how the threatning Tempefts rife, And with loud Clamours fill the Skies; Hark! how the tort'ring Buildings fhake, Hark! how the Trees a doleful Confort make. And fee! oh fee! how all below,

The Earth lies cover'd deep in Snow,

Taround

The Romans clad in white, did thus the Fafces woo;
And thus your freezing Candidate, my Lyce, fues for you?

III.

Come, lay thefe foolifh Niceties afides
And to foft Paflion facrifice your Pride:

Let not the precious Hours with fruitlefs Queftions dye,
But let new Scenes of Pleafure crown them as they fly
Slight not the Flames which yourown Charms infufeg
And no kind friendly Minute lofe,

While Youth and Beauty give you leave to chufe.
As Men by Acts of Charity below,

Or purchafe the next World, or think they do

IM

engage,

So you in Youth a Lover fhou'd
To make a fure Retreat for your declining Age.

IV.

Let meaner Souls by Virtue be cajol'd,
As the good Grecian Spinftrefs was of old;
She, while her Sot his youthful Prime bestow'd
To fight a Cuckold's Wars abroad,

Held out a longer Siege, than Troy,
Against the warm Attacks of profer'd Joy,
And foolishly preferv'd a worthlefs Chastity,

At the Expence of ten Years Lyes and Perjury.
Like that old fashion'd Dame ne'er bilk your own Delight,
But what you've loft i'th' Day, get, get it in the Night

V..

Oh! then if Prayers can no Acceptance find,.
Nor Vows, nor Offerings bend your Mind;
If all thefe powerful Motives fail,.

Yet let your Husband's Injuries prevail;.
He, by fome Play-Houfe Jilt misled,
Elfewhere beftows the Tribute of your Bed ;;
Let me his forfeited Embraces share,.

Let me your mighty Wrongs.repair..

Thus Kings by their own Rebel-Powers betray'd,,
Baquell the home-bred. Foe call in a foreign Aid..

VI

2

Love, like Platonicks, promise what they will
Muft, like Devotion, be encourag'd still;
Must meet with equal Wishes and Defires,
Orelfe the dying Lamp in its own Urn expiress.
And I, for all that boafted Flame
We Poets and fond Lovers idly claim,
Am of too frail a Make, I fear,
Shop'd you continue ftill fevere,

To brave the double Hardships of your Fate,

And bear the Coldness of the Nights, and Rigor of your

(Hate...

Hor. Ode 11. 1. 2...

Quid Bellicofus Cantaber, & Scythes,
Hirpine Quindi, cogitet, Adria
Divifus objecto, remittas

Quarere, &c.

I'

Hat the Bully of France, and our Friends on the

W Hat

With their flout Grenadiers this Summer design,
Ceafe over your Coffee and Wine to debate:

[Rhine

Why the Devil fhou'd you, that live this Side the Water,
Pore over Gazettes, and be vext at the Matter?
Come, come, let alone thefe Arcana's of State.

Alas! while fuch idle Difcourfe you maintain,
And with politick Nonfenfe thus trouble your Brain,
Your Youth flies away on the Back of swift Hours,
Which no Praying, no Painting, no Sighing reftores.
Then you'll find, when old Age has difcolour'd your Head,-
Tho' a Miftrefs be wanting, no Reft in your Bed,

Prithee do but obferve, how the Queen of the Night
Still varies her Station, and changes her Light:
Now with a full Orb fhe the Darknefs does chace,
Now like Whores in the Pit, fhews but half of her Face!
Thefe Chaplers of Flowers that our Temples adorn,
Now tarnish and fade, that were fresh in the Morn.

IV. But

IV.

But to leave off Similes for Curates in Camblet
To lard a dry Sermon, for grave Folks in Hamlet,
While our Vigour remains we'll our Talents improve,
Dafh the Pleasures of Wine with the Bleffings of Love..
Here, carelefly here, we'll lie down in the Shade,
Which the friendly kind Poplars and Lime-Trees have
[made.

Your Claret's too hot... Sirrah, Drawer, go bring
A Cup of cold Adam from the next purling Spring.
And now your Hand's in, prithee ftep o'er the Way,
And fetch Madam Trickfy, the brifk and the gay.
Bid her come in her Alamode Manto of Sattin,

Two Coolers, I'm fure, with our Wine can be no falfe

[Latin

The 13th Ode in Horace 1. 4. Paraphrafed.

L

Andivere, Lyce, Dîî mea Vota, Di
Audivere, Lyce; fis Anus, & tamen
Vis formofa videri, &c.

I.

Ong have my Prayers flow Heaven afsail'd ;

But Thanks to all the Powers above,

That ftill revenge the Caufe of injur'd Love,

Lyce, at laft they have prevail'd.

My Vows are all with Ufury repaid,

For who can Providence upbraid,

That fees thy former Crimes with haften'd Age repaid.

Thou'rt old, and yet by awkard Ways doft ftrive'
Th' unwilling Paffion to revive;

Doft

Doft drink, and dance, and touch the Lyre, And all to set fome puny Heart on Fire.) Alas! in Chloe's Cheeks Love bafking lies; Chloe, great Beauty's faireft prize,

Chloe, that charms our Ears, and ravishes our Eyes.

The vigorous Boy flies o'er the barren Plains,
Where faplefs Oaks their wither'd Trunks extend
For Love, like other Gods, difdains

To grace the Shrine that Age has once profan'd.
He too laughs at thee now,

Scorns thy grey Hairs, and wrinkled Brow;

How fhould his youthful Fires agree with hoary Age's

IV.

In vain, with wondrous Art and mighty Care,
You ftrive your ruin'd Beauty to repair;

[Snow

No far-fetcht Silks one Minute can reftore,
That Time has added to the endlefs Score.
And precious Stones, tho' ne'er fo bright,
That fhine with their own native Light,
Will but difgrace thee now, and but inhance thy Night

ས་

Ah me where's now that Mien! that Face!

That Shape! that Air! that every Grace!
That Colour! whofe inchanting Red

Me to Love's Tents a Captive led.

Strange Turn of Fate! that the

Who from my felf fo oft has ftol'n poor Me,

Now by the just Revenge of Time ftol'n from herself

[hould be.

VL

Time was when Lyce's powerful Face

To Phillis only gave the Place;

Perfect