THE

FOURTH BOOK

OF THE

ODES of HORACE.

ODE I.

To VENU s.

By Mr. DUNCOMBE fen.

Spare me, Venus! Goddess, spare!
Nor wake the long-suspended War;
For chang'd I am, fince first thy Chain
I wore, in gentle Cynara's Reign.
Mother too fierce of foft Defires,
Warm not my Breast with youthful Fires;
For, fee around my filver'd Head

Full fifty Years their Snow have spread.
To perfecute thy Poet cease,

And let his Life decline in Peace.
Rather to blooming Youths repair,
Who feek thy Aid with ardent Prayer.

Would't

Would't thou a worthy Heart inflame,
Young Paulus for thy Pupil claim :
And, gently wafted through the Sky
By purple Swans, to Paulus fly;

2

There from the golden Car alight,
And with thy Prefence bless his Sight.
For he is graceful, nobly born;
A hundred Arts the Youth adorn;
A zealous Pleader in Defence
Of unbefriended Innocence :
He widely fhall extend thy Sway,
And make the beauteous Nymphs obey.
Should his rich Rival ftrive in vain,
By Gifts the Maid he loves to gain,
Near Alba's Lake, by bis Cominand,
Beneath a Citron Roof fhall ftand
Thy Marble Statue; Lovers there
The copious Incenfe fhall prepare,
To scent thy Noftrils; and around,
The Harp, the Flute, and Haut-boy found,
In Concert with the joyous Lays,
Which 3 twice a-Day, to chant thy Praise,
4 The Youths and Virgins fhall repeat;

6

And, fpringing thrice with 5 fnowy Feet,
The Ground in Salian Measures beat.
Nor Maid I court, nor Matron now,
Nor gather Flowers to bind my Brow:
No more in Drinking I delight,
Nor pass in Revels half the Night;

}

Nor,

Nor, vainly-fond, can hope to prove
The long-loft Joys of mutual Love.

But why, alas! fay, Delia, why
Starts this fond Moisture from my Eye,
And trickles down my glowing Cheek?
Why do I faulter as I fpeak?

Why drops, in Words abrupt, my Tongue,
Which us'd to flow fo fmooth along?
I grafp you now, in nightly Dreams;
Now labour through the rolling Streams,
As swift you glide; or, o'er the Plain,
My cruel Fugitive pursue in vain.

NOTES.

1 Mater fava Cupidinum.] Horace has taken this Line from the 19th Ode of his First Book.

2 Purpureis oloribus ] The Ancients applied the Erithet Purple to every thing that was of a bright and lively Colour: In this Senfe the Swans are fo called, who are of a fhining White. Albinovanus applies it to Snow,

Purpureâ fub nive terra latet.

And, in another Place,

Brachia purpureâ candidiora ni-ve.

3 Bis die.] Hymns, in Honour of the Gods, were fung in the Temples, Morning and Evening.

4 Pueri cum teneris virginibus.] The Ancients had no Children educated on purpose to fing in the Temples, like those which are now called Choirifters neither did they employ for that Purpose the public Muficians, who fung on the Stage; but a certain Number of Boys and Girls were felected out of the beft Families, and flatedly fung, till others were chofen to fucceed them. Thefe Places were much coveted, and it was held a very great Honour to be chofen. DACIER.

5- Pede

5

Pede candido.] The Arms and Feet of Boys and Girls were naked in Dancing.

6 In morem Salium ter quatient humum.] The Salii were the Priests of Mars, intituted by Numa. They carried every Year in folemn Proceffion the facred Bucklers through the fourteen Divifions of Rome, finging, dancing, and clattering their Shields, like our Caftanets, as they marched along. DACIER.

The SAME ODE Imitated.

By WILLIAM HAMILTON, Efq.
Infcribed to

The Right Hon. HUGH Lord POLWARTH* now Earl of MARCHMONT.

V

ENUS! call'ft thou once more to Arms ? Sound'st thou once more thy dire Alarıns? Annoy'ft my peaceful State again?Oh! Faith of Treaties fworn in vain ! Seal'd with the Signet of thy Doves, And ratify'd by all the Loves. Spare, Goddefs; I implore, implore! Alas! thy Suppliant is no more What once he was in happier Time, (Illuftrated by many a Rhyme)

* Son of Alexander Earl of Marchmont, Grandfon of Patrick Earl of Marchmont, and distinguished, like them, in the Cause

When, skill'd in every ruling Art,
Maria fway'd his yielding Heart:

Love's Champion then, and known to Fame,
He boafted no inglorious Name.

Now, cruel Mother of Defires!

Who Doubts and anxious Joys infpires,
Ah! why, fo long defy'd, again

Thus leviest thou thy dreadful Train ;
That, when in daring Fights he toil'd,.
So oft his youthful Ardor foil'd?

Oh let thy hoftile Fury ceafe,
Thy faithful Veteran reft in Peace,
In the laborious Service worn,
His Arms decay'd, and Enfigns torn.

Go, go, Swan-wing'd! through liquid Air, Where the bland Breath of youthful Prayer Recalls thee from the long Delay,

And, weeping, chides thee for thy Stay.
My lowly Roof, that knows no State,
Can ne'er receive a Gueft fo great:
In Polworth's Dome, majeftic Queen,
With better Grace thou fhalt be feen,
If, worthy of the Cyprian Dart,
Thou feek'ft to pierce a lovely Heart:
For he to noble Birth has join'd
A graceful Form and gentle Mind;
And, to fubdue a Virgin-Breast,
The Youth with thousand Arts is bleft;
Nor filent in his Country's Caufe,
The anxious Guardian of her Laws.

He,