The changing year's fucceffive plan
Proclaims mortality to man;
Rough winter's blafts to fpring give way,
Spring yields to fummer's fov'reign ray;
Then fummer finks in autumn's reign,
And winter chills the world again;
Her loffes foon the moon fupplies,
But wretched man, when once he lies
Where Priam and his fons are laid,
Is nought but afhes and a fhade.
Who knows if Jove, who counts our fcore,
Will tofs us in a morning more?
What with your friend you nobly share
At least you rescue from your heir.
Not you, Torquatus, boaft of Rome,
When Minos once has fix'd your doom,
Or eloquence, or splendid birth,
Or virtue, fhall restore to earth.
Hippolytus, unjustly flain,
Diana calls to life in vain ;
Nor can the might of Thefeus rend
The chains of Hell that hold his friend.
The following TRANSLATIONS, PARODIES, and BURLESQUE VERSES, most of them extempore, are taken from ANECDOTES of Dr. JOHNSON published by Mrs. Piozzi.
ANACREON, ODE IX.
LOVELY Courier of the fky,
Whence and whither doft thou fly?
Scatt'ring, as thy pinions play,
Liquid fragrance all the way:
Is it business? is it love?
Tell me, tell me, gentle dove.
Soft Anacreon's vows I bear,
Vows to Myrtale the fair;
Grac'd with all that charms the heart,
Blushing nature, fmiling art.
Venus, courted by an ode,
On the bard her dove beftow'd:
Vested with a mafter's right,
Now Anacreon rules my flight;
His the letters that you fee,
Weighty charge, confign'd to me:
Think not yet my service hard,
Joyless task without reward;
Smiling at my mafter's gates,
Freedom my return awaits;
But the lib'ral grant in vain
Tempts me to be wild again.
Can a prudent dove decline
Blifsful bondage fuch as mine?
Over hills and fields to roam,
Fortune's gueft without a home;
Under leaves to hide one's head,
Slightly fhelter'd, coarfely fed:
Now my better lot beftows
Sweet repaft, and foft repofe;
Now the gen'rous bowl I fip
As it leaves Anacreon's lip:
Void of care, and free from dread,
From his fingers fnatch his bread
Then, with luscious plenty gay,
Round his chanıber dance and play;
Or from wine, as courage fprings,
O'er his face extend my wings;
And when feaft and frolic tire,
Drop afleep upon his lyre.
This is all, be quick and go,
More than all thou canft not know;
Let me now my pinions ply,
I have chatter'd like a pye.
Written in ridicule of certain Poems published in 1777.
WHERESOE'ER I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endlefs labour to be wrong;
Phrafe that time hath flung away,
Uncouth words in difarray,
Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode, and elegy, and fonnet.
PARODY of a TRANSLATION from the
MEDEA of EURIPIDES.
ERR fhall they not, who refolute explore
Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes;
And, fcanning right the practices of yore,
Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwife.
They to the dome where Smoke with curling play
Announc'd the dinner to the regions round,
Summon'd the finger blythe, and harper gay,
And aided wine with dulcet-streaming found.
The better use of notes, or fweet or fhrill,
By quiv'ring ftring or modulated wind; Trumpet or lyre—to their harsh bofoms chill Admiffion ne'er had fought, or could not find.
Oh! fend them to the fullen manfions dun,
Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around; Where gloom-enamour'd Mischief loves to dwell, And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, fchemes the wound.
When cates luxuriant pile the fpacious dish,
And purple nectar glads the feftive hour;
The gueft, without a want, without a wish,
Can yield no room to mufick's foothing pow'r.
Of the Two First Stanzas of the Song "Rio verde, "Rio verde," printed in Bishop PERCY's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. An IMPROMPTU.
GLASSY water, glaffy water,
Down whofe current, clear and strong, Chiefs confus'd in mutual flaughter, Moor and Chriftian roll along.
IMITATION of the Style of ****.
HERMIT hoar, in folemn cell
Wearing out life's evening grey,
Strike thy bofom, fage, and tell
What is blifs, and which the way.
Thus I fpoke, and speaking figh'd,
Scarce reprefs'd the starting tear,
When the hoary fage reply'd,
Come, my lad, and drink fome beer,
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