It chanced, at last, when, on a day,
He push'd him to the desp'rate fray,
His courage droop'd, he fled.
The Master storm'd, the prize was lost,
And, instant, frantic at the cost,

He doom'd his fav'rite dead.

He seiz'd him fast, and from the pit
Flew to his kitchen, snatch'd the spit,
And, bring me cord, he cried-
The cord was brought, and, at his word,
To that dire implement the bird
Alive and struggling, tied.

The horrid sequel asks a veil,
And all the terrors of the tale

That can be, shall be, sunk

Led by the suff'rer's screams aright His shock'd companions view the sight And him with fury drunk.

All, suppliant, beg a milder fate
For the old warrior at the grate:
He deaf to pity's call

Whirl'd round him rapid as a wheel
His culinary club of steel,

Death menacing on all.

88

THE BENEFIT RECEIVED BY HIS MAJESTY, &c.

But vengeance hung not far remote,

For while he stretch'd his clam'rous throat
And heav'n and earth defied,

Big with a curse too closely pent
That struggled vainly for a vent

He totter'd, reel'd, and died.

'Tis not for us, with rash surmise,
To point the judgments of the skies,
But judgments plain as this,

That, sent for Man's instruction, bring
A written label on their wing,
'Tis hard to read amiss.

ON THE

BENEFIT RECEIVED BY HIS MAJESTY

FROM SEA-BATHING

IN THE YEAR 1789.

O SOV'REIGN of an isle renown'd

For undisputed sway

Wherever o'er yon gulph profound
Her navies wing their way,

With juster claim she builds at length
Her empire on the sea,

And well may boast the waves her strength
Which strength restored to Thee.

HOR. LIB. I. ODE IX.

Vides, ut altá stet nive candidum

Soracte;

SEE'ST thou yon mountain laden with deep snow,
The groves beneath their fleecy burthen bow,
The streams congeal'd forget to flow,

Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile
Of fuel on the hearth;

Broach the best cask, and make old winter smile
With seasonable mirth.

This be our part---let Heaven dispose the rest;
If Jove command, the winds shall sleep,
That now wage war upon the foamy deep,
And gentle gales spring from the balmy West

E'en let us shift to-morrow as we may,

When to-morrow's past away,

We at least shall have to say,
We have liv'd another day;

Your auburn locks will soon be silver'd o'er,
Old age is at our heels, and youth returns no more.

HOR. LIB. I. ODE 38.

Persicos odi, puer, apparatus;

Boy, I hate their empty shows,
Persian garlands I detest,
Bring not me the late-blown rose

Ling'ring after all the rest:

Plainer myrtle pleases me

Thus out-stretched beneath my vine,

Myrtle more becoming thee,

Waiting with thy master's wine.

English Sapphics have been attempted, but with little success, because in our language we have no certain rules by which to determine the quantity. The following version was made merely in the way of experiment how far it might be possible to imitate a Latin Sapphic in English without any attention to that circumstance.

HOR. B. I. ODE 38.

Boy! I detest all Persian fopperies,
Fillet-bound garlands are to me disgusting,
Task not thyself with any search, I charge thee,
Where latest roses linger,

Bring me alone (for thou wilt find that readily)
Plain myrtle. Myrtle neither will disparage
Thee occupied to serve me, or me drinking
Beneath my vine's cool shelter.

HOR. LIB. II. ODE 16.
Otium Divos rogat in patenti.

EASE is the weary merchant's pray'r,
Who plows by night th' Agean flood,
When neither moon nor stars appear,
Or faintly glimmer through the cloud.

For ease the Mede with quiver graced,
For ease the Thracian hero sighs,
Delightful ease all pant to taste,

A blessing which no treasure buys.