And shameless Dolly, a defaulter,
On strumpet Reason's perjur'd✶ altar?
To me the dark† avenging storm
Thy civic lineaments deform;
Who now enjoys thee, neat and snug,
Nor fears in thine a Cornish hug;
Nor dreams of the perfidious || gale,
That robs himn of thy fickle tail.

** How doom'd is the confiding lover,
Who touches ere he can discover!

Me-out of health-my passions cross'd,
In Dolly's Revolutions

tost,

Me, indicate the tavern books

To have cut out my name at Brookes';
Me, on a peg, in Dolly's view,

To have hung up my buff and blue ‡‡.

* Heu, quoties fidem

Mutatosque Deos flebit.

† Et aspera

Nigris æquora ventis.

This Poet, he will excuse me for saying it, is rather a pedant in the political jargon of his day.

§ Semper vacuam-semper amabilem sperat.

|| Nescius auræ

Fallacis.

BOOK I. ODE V.

A PARODY.

WHAT Lady Bab*, thy Partner† bless'd,
In honours rich her Favourite crowns?
To whom, by thee caress'd,

Spite of an envious Rival's frowns,

Thy hand is offer'd-and the game
With perouettes § of matchless fame?

Hers, the chang'd Partner to lament;
But not at harmless Whist alone,
Thy rage will find its vent;
Abroad with spattering venom thrown,
"Twill blast with anecdote of spleen
The hips of cork and bosom lean.

When the fond Løver you appear,
With extacy of hideous grin,

That spreads from ear to ear;

She holds erect her bristled chin,
And thinks for ever she can say,
You only are her Cecisbé.

* See "Pompey the Little."

†The Gentleman to whom this Ode is supposed to allude was fond of playing at Whist with Dowagers of Quality.

Honours at cards.

§ He described a perouette at a public dinner in the Principality, to the astonished eyes of the Welsh Noblesse.

He was of a gossiping turn, capricious in his loves, and severe upon all his favourites by turns.

*She little knows the Tabby's heart,

That smirks and cringing bows conceal-
That hates the Lover's part,

Unless her Abigail you steal.

Me ******* † shall bless, and gracious shine,
No Queen for you, but wholly mine!

BOOK I. ODE VI.‡

TO AGRIPPA.

BRAVE, and a Conqueror; to Varius due,
And claim'd by this Mæonian wing!
His daring spirit shall your fame pursue,
And proudly of the Hero sing.

We, idle truants from the Epic Muse,
Despair of handling such a theme;
Achilles the unconquer'd we refuse,
Nor of Ulysses ever dream.

Nor we of Pelops, and his line accurs'd,
The sanguinary deeds relate;

By us no Epic themes can be rehears'd,
For we are little-these are great.

*Nescius auræ

Fallacis.

† A merry old widow, whom he called "his Queen," to whom he offered his innocent and Platonic love.

This is almost a literal version.

A coward-sense of diffidence and shame,

Clings to the Bard of homely song; Protecting yours, and Caesar's deathless name, Against the rude and feeble throng.

Who from the life can paint, with glowing hues,
Mars in his adamantine vest?

Or give in charge to Fancy and the Muse
Dust that became the cheek and crest,

Such as on Merion's gloomy aspect play'd,
Wild in his air of conquering might?
Or on his brow-that, with Minerva's aid,
Was to the Gods a match confess'd?

We sing of banquets, and of skittish maids, Whose nails are par'd when they rebel; Detach'd and free, or bound, in Cyprian shades, To measures light we tune the shell.

BOOK I. ODE VII.

LET others praise the Rhodian City's pride,
Or Ephesus, or Mitylene;

Corinth-whose walls the Ocean's path divide-
The fane of Thebes-the Delphic scene.

Thessalian Tempè, rear thy towering crest;
And Virgin Athens, proudly sung,
Whose leaf thy votaries hail above the rest,
In sacred verdure ever young.

Nor Sparta me, nor that Larissian field,
Strike with such transport of delight,
As lov'd Albunea's tuneful echoes yield,
Or tumbling Anio's rapid flight.

Or Tibur's grove, that every Latian Muse
Feels the ambition to explore;

Whose orchards many a fertile stream bedews,
To heap the peasant's golden store.

As the South-west from gloom is often clear,
Nor teems with unremitted showers;

Bid all the cares and vapours disappear,
That cloud and chill the passing hours.

With genial wine dispel them; in the tent,
With glittering spear, and banners bright;
Or to thy own dear Tibur's homage bent,
Love's truant from the busy light.

When Teucer from paternal Empire fled,
With poplar's leaf his temples crown'd,
And bath'd in wine the wreath, "Dear Friends,"
he said,

"For other shores we all are bound.

"With Teucer is no shadow for despair;
Me, a new Salamis attends;

Apollo's word is pledg'd-and we are there:
A God the enterprize befriends.

My gallant comrades, we have suffer'd more;
We are no cowards; -we are men;

To-day in wine do honour to the shore,
To-morrow-for the sea again."