« PreviousContinue »
His fearless Heart immur'd with tripple Brass,
The daring Mortal surely wore,
And in a treach'rous Bark new Worlds explore.
What Scenes of Death cou'd shake his Soul,
That unconcern'd saw the wild Billows rise,
And whizzing Meteors paint the gloomy Skies?
la vain wife Heav'ns indulgent Care
If with expanded Sails bold Ships prepare
But Man, that busy reasoning Toof,
Sick of his Ease, the restless Fool,
From the refulgent Orb of Day
And fondly stampt into a Saul,
Strait to reward his Sacrilegious Thefty
Their old infernal Manfions left,
Then Death, that lately travelld flow,
Made Hafte, and eager of his Game,
To what fantastick Heights does Man aspire ;
An Imitation of the 6th Ode in Horace, 1. 1.
Scriberis vario fortis, & hoftium.... In the Year 1685, after the Defeat of the Rebels in the Wef.
Your glorious Triumphs may rehearsei
And all the mighty Blessings show,
To lower Numbers, lower Things;
Had the endeavour'd to relate
Or all the Wonders that by Drake were donc,
As long a Space had the vain Labour held,
As long as she the tiresom Work renew'd,
[Course pursu'd, III.
The humble Muse too well her Weakness knows,
Tho' had not Heav'n the Power deny'd,
Left her unequal slender Vein
Who can with all his boasted Fancy raise
By our great Edward, and his greater Son ?
Harmless Combats, hamless Wars,
A Tranflation of Teucer Salaming Patreni
Cum fugeret, &c. Hor. Ode vii. lib. 1.
Rrave Teucer, (as the Poets tell us)
When from his native Clime he fled, With Poplar Wreaths Crown'd his triumphant Hendy
And thus he cheer'd his drooping Fellows.
where e'er the Fates Mall show us Land,
(Remote and distant tho' it be) We'll tha pe our Course at their Command,
And boldly fix as they decree.
Let no wild Fears your Hopes betray,
Let not Despair your Courage pall,
And fearless Teucer leads the Way.
Phæbus foretold (and he of all the Pow'rs
Commands che mystic Books of Fate)
And the new Salamis be ours.
Then drink away this puling Sorrow,
Let Wine each daftard Thought fubdue,
Let Wine your fainting Hopes renew, We'll leave the drowsy Land, and plough the Main
Hor. Ode 8. 1. .'
-Ext me, Lydia, for by Heavens I swear,
Tell me, why thus young Danon you destroy And nip the blooming Virtues of the lovely Boy
Why does he never throw the manly Bar ; And practise the firf Feats of Wars Or, gaily Thining in his Martial Pride, With a strong artful Hand the foaming Courser gaide
· II I.
Why does he never grasp the pond'rous Shield,
And meet his Equals in the Field :
Why does he lurk, for I bewail his Doom, ra
Like an Alfatian Bully still at Home,
That fears to walk abroad all Day,