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Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glist'ring foil
Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumor lies, 80
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed.
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honor'd flood, 85
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the fellon winds,
And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing flow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105
K k 2 Like Like to that sanguin flow'r inscrib'd with woe.
All! Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
Last came, and last did go,
The pilot of the Galilean lake,
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, no
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain)
He shook his miter'd locks, and stern bespake,
How well could I have spar'd for thee young swain,
Enow of such as for their bellies fake
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? 115
Of other care they little reck'ning make,
Than how to scramble at the shearers feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest; (hold
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to
A sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 121
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs,
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;
The hungry flieep look up, and are not fed; 125
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said,
But that two-handed engin at the door 130
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
To strow the laureat herse where Lycid lies.
Where the great vision of the guarded mount
Looks Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold; Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth: And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Weep no more, woeful Shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, 166
Sunk though he be beneath the watry floor;
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
Thus fang the uncouth swain to th'oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals gray, He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:
And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, igo
The Fifth ODE of Horace, Lib. I. Quis multa gracilis te puer in rofa, rendred almost word for word without rime, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit.
WHAT flender youth bedew'd withliquid odors Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,
Pyrrah? for whom bind'st thou
In wreaths thy golden hair, Plain in thy neatness? O how oft shall he 5
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 10
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful. Hapless they To whom thou untry'dseem'st fair. Me in myvow'd Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
My dank and dropping weeds 15
To the stern God of sea.