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What good, or better, we may call,
Our friend Dan Prior, told (you know)
The veriest hermit in the nation May yield, God knows, to strong temptation Away they come, through thick and thin To a tall house near Lincoln's-inn: ('Twas on the night of a debate, When all their lordships had sat late.)
Behold the place, where if a poet Shined in description, he might show it
Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls,
Our courtier walks from dish to dish,
Que ça est bon! Ah, goûtez ça!
I'm quite ashamed—'tis mighty rude
BOOK IV.-ODE I.
TO VENUS. AGAIN? new tumults in my breast?
Ah spare me, Venus ! let me, let me rest! I am not now, alas! the man
As in the gentle reign of my queen Anne. Ah! sound no more thy soft alarms,
Nor circle sober fifty with thy charms ! Mother too fierce of dear desires !
Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires : To number five direct your doves,
There spread round Murray all your blooming loves Noble and young, who strikes the heart
With every sprightly, every decent part; Equal the injured to defend,
To charm the mistress, or to fix the friend. He, with a hundred arts refined,
Shall stretch thy conquests over half the kind : To him each rival shall submit,
Make but his riches equal to his wit. Then shall thy form the marble grace,
(Thy Grecian form) and Chloe lend the face; His house, embosom'd in the grove,
Sacred to social life and social love, Shall glitter o'er the pendent green,
Where Thames reflects the visionary scene : Thither the silver-sounding lyres
Shall call the smiling loves and young desires ; There, every grace and muse shall throng,
Exalt the dance, or animate the song; There youths and nymphs, in concert gay,
Shall hail the rising, close the parting day With me, alas ! those joys are o'er;
For me the vernal garlands bloom no more Adieu ! fond hope of mutual fire,
The still-believing, still renew'd desire:
Adieu ! the heart-expanding bowl,
And all the kind deceivers of the soul! But why? ah tell me, ah too dear!
Steals down my cheek the involuntary tear? Why words so flowing, thoughts so free,
Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of thee? Thee, dress'd in Fancy's airy beam,
Absent I follow through the extended dream ; Now, now I cease, I clasp thy charms,
And now you burst (ah cruel) from my arms! And swiftly shoot along the Mall,
Or softly glide by the canal;
And now on rolling waters snatch'd away
ART OF ODE IX. OF BOOK IV
Lest you should think that verse shall die,
Which sounds the silver Thames along, Taught on the wings of truth to fly
Above the reach of vulgar song ; Though daring Milton sits sublime,
In Spenser native muses play ; Nor yet shall Waller yieid to time,
Nor pensive Cowley's moral laySages and chiefs, long since had birth
Ere Cæsar was, or Newton named; These raised new empires o'er the earth,
And those new heavens and systems frained. Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died; In vain they schemed, in vain they bled! They had no pont, and are dead
MISCELLANIES. On Receiving from the Right Hon. Lady Frances
Shirley, a Standish and two Pens.
Yes, I beheld the Athenian queen
Descend in all her sober charms;
"Take at this hand celestial arms : Secure the radiant weapons wield;
This golden lance shall guard desert, And if a vice dares keep the field,
This steel shall stab it to the heart.' Awed, on my bended knees I fell,
Received the weapons of the sky,
The fount of fame or infamy.
"A standish, steel and golden pen;
I gave it you to write again.
You'll bring a house, I mean of peers,
L***** and all about your ears. "You'd write as smooth again on glass,
And run on ivory so glib, As not to stick at fool or ass,
Nor stop at flattery or fib. • Athenian queen! and sober charms!
I tell you, fool, there's nothing in 't: 'Tis Venus, Venus gives these arms;
In Dryden's Virgil see the print. Come, if you 'll be a quiet soul,
That dares tell neither truth nor lies, I'll list you in the harmless roll
Of those that sing of these poor eyes.