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Or that his haliow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star ypointing pyramid?
Dear son of Memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Has built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavoring Art
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
XI. On the University Carrier; who sichened in tht time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, 'by reason of the plague.
Jrl E R E lies old Hobson; Death hath broke hisgirt,
And that he had ta'cn up his latest inn,
In the kind office of a chamberlin
Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night,
Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:
If any ask for him, it shall be said,
Hobson has supt, and's newly gone to bed.
XII. Another on the same.
XJ.ERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
XIII. Ad Pyrrham. Ode V.
Horativs ex Pyrrhce illccebris tanquam i naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, ajjirmat esse miseros.
VfcUis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
Cui flavam religas comam Simplex munditiis? heu quoties (idem Mutatosque deos flebit, et aspera
Nigris aequora ventis
Emirabitur insolens 1
Qui semper vacuam semper amabilem ,
Sperat, nescius aurae
Fallacis? Miseri quibus Intentata nites. Me tabula sacer Voiiva paries indicat uvida
Vestimenta maris Deo.
XIII. The fifth Ode of Horace, Lib. I.
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, rendered almost word for word without r/rime, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit.
W Hat slender youth bedew'd with liquid odors Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,
Pyrrha? for whom bind'st. thou
In wreaths thy golden hair,
Rough with black wmds and storms
Unwonted shall admire!
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful. Hapless they [vow'd
To whom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Me in my Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
My dank and droppmg weeds
To the stern God of sea.
On tit new forcers of conscience under the Long
Jje C Au S F. you have thrown off your Prelate lord,
To force our consciences that Christ set free,
Men whose life, learning, faith and pure intent Would have been held in high esteem with Paul,
Must now be nam'd and printed Hereties 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 so the Parliament May with their wholesome and preventive shears Clip your phylacteries, though bauk your ears,
And succour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large.