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And that he had ta’en 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.
HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he could move ;
So hung his destiny, never to rot
While he might still jog on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay,
Until his revolution was at stay.
Time numbers motion (yet without a crime
'Gainst old Truth), motion number'd out his time :
And like an engin e mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait.
Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath ;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd; ,
Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,
If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers.
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burthensome,
That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't)
As he were press'd to death, he cry'd more weight;
But had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase :
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.
Horatius ex Pyrrhæ illecebris tanquam è naufragio
enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, affirmat esse miseros.
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus,
Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
· Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex munditiis ? heu quoties fidem
Mutatosque deos flebit, et aspera
Nigris aequora' ventis
Emirabitur insolens !
Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
Qui semper vacuam semper amabilem ,
Sperat, nescius auræ
Fallacis? Miseri quibus
Intentata nites. Me tabula sacer
Vouva 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 rhime, according to the Latin measure, as ncar as the language will permit.
What slender youth bedew'd with liquid odors Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,
Pyrrha? for whom bind's thou
In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness? O how oft shall he
On faith and changed gods complain, and seas
Rough with black winds and storms
Unwonted shall admire!
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who always vacant always amiable
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful. Hapless they
(vowd To whom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Me in my . Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of sca.
On the Rew forcers of conscience under the Long
BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate lord,
And with stiff vows renounc'd his liturgy,
To seize the widow'd whore Plurality
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorrd,
Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword
To force our consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic hierarchy, Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford ?
Men whose life, learning, faith and pure intent Would have been held in high esteem with Paul,
Must 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
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.
O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love; O if Jove's will Have link'd that ainorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretel my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ;
As thou from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:
Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L'herbosa val di Rhenn, e il nobil varco,
Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora
De sui atti soavi giamai parco,
E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco, La onde l' alta tua virtu s'infiora.
Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti