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The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for piñe-apples in frames ;
With hopeless wish one looks and lingers;
One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers ;
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

HIORACE, BOOK II. ODE X.

I.
RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse Fortune's pow'r ;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep
Along the treach'rous shore.

II.
Ho that holds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch tho poor,
Nor plagues, that haunt the rich man's door,
Imbitt'ring all his state.

III.
The tallest pine feels most the pow'r
Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tower

Comes heaviest to the ground ;
Tho bolts that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.
VOL. I.

19.

IV.
The well-informod philosopher
Rejoices with a wholesonie fear,

And hopes in spite of pain ;
If winter bellow from the north,
Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,
And nature laughs again.

V.
What if thino Heav'n be overcast,
The dark appearance will not last;

Expect a brighter sky.
The God that strings the silver bow,
Awakes sometimes the muses too
And lays his arrows by.

VI.
If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen ;
But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious galo,

Take half thy canvass in.

?

A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE

AND is this all ? Can reason do no more,
'Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shoro,
Sweet moralist ? afloat on life's rough sea,
The Christian has an art unknown to theo.
He holds no parley with unmanly fears;
Where duty bids, he confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,
And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all.

TIIE LILY AND THE ROSE.

1. THE Nymph must lose her female friend,

If more admir'd than she-
But where will fierce contention end,

If flow'rs can disagree?

II.

Within the garden's peaceful scene

Appear'd two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,
The Lily and the Rose.

III.
The Rose soon redden'd into rage,

And swelling with disdain,
Appeal'd to many a poet's page,
To prove her right to reign.

IV.
The Lily's height bespoke command,

A fair imperial flow'r;
She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her pow'r.

V.
This civil bick’ring and debate

The goddess chanc'd to hear,
And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre;

VI.
Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,

And yours the statelier mien :
And till a third surpasses you,

Let each be deem'd a queen

VII.
Thus, sooth'd and reconcil'd, each seeks

The fairest British fair,
The seat of empire is her cheeks,

They reign united there.

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.

* I. HEU inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma,

Quam raro pulchræ pulchra placere potest : Sed fines ultra solitos discordia tendit, Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.

II. Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recussus,

Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas; Hic sibi regales Amaryllis candida cultus, Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa.

III. Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt,

Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinu,
Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatum,
Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat.

IV.
Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,

Ceu flores inter non habitura parem,
Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus
Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat.

V.
Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixe,

Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes. Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri,

Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adestha

VI.
Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit;

Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color;
Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.

VII.
His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham,

Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;
Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius, hujus

Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.

.

THE POPLAR FIELD

THE poplars are fell’d, farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elaps'd since I last took a view
Of my fav’rite field, and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shado.
The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene, where his melody charm'd me before,
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as thoy,
With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ero another such grove shall arise in its stead
Tis a sight to engage me, if any thing can,
Co muse on the perishing pleasures of man ,

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