Of treafur'd fame, by blameless deeds acquir'd,
By all unenvied, and by all defir'd,

Free-gift of men, the tribute, of good-will!

Rich in this patrimony fair, increase it still.

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EPO DE IV.

The fullness of content remains
Above the yet unfathom'd skies,
Where, triumphant, gladness reigns,
Where wishes ceafe, and pleasures rife
Beyond all with; where bitter tears.

For dying friends are never shed ;

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Where, fighing, none defire pass'd years

Recall'd, or wifh the future fled.

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Mournful measures, Q, relieve me!

Sweet remembrance! cease to grieve me.

Are guilty hoards for life is frail;

V..

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And we are judg'd where favour is not bought.
By him forewarn'd, thou frantic ifle,

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How. did the thirft of gold thy fons beguile !
Beneath the fpecious ruin thousands groan'd,
By him, alas, forewarn'd, by him bemoan'd.
Where shall his like, on earth, be found? oh, when
Shall I, once more, behold the most belov'd of men!
ANTI-

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ANTISTROPHE V.

Winning afpect! winning mind!

Soul and body aptly join'd!

Searching thought, engaging wit,

Enabled to inftruct, or pleafe,

Uniting dignity with ease,

By nature form'd for every purpose fit,
Eudcaring excellence!-0, why

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Is fuch perfection born, and born to die?
Or do fuch rare endowments ftill furvive,

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As plants, remov'd to milder regions thrive,

158

In one eternal fpring? and we bewail

The parting foul, new-born to life that cannot fail.

E PODE V.

Where facred friendship, plighted love,

Parental joys, unmix'd with care,
Through perpetual time improve?
Or do the deathicis bleffed fhare
Sublimer raptores, unreveal'd,
Beyond our weak conception pure ?
But, while thofe glories lie conceal'd,

The righteous count the promife fure
Trials to the laft enduring,

To the laft their hope fecuring.

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TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

WILLIAM PULTENEY, ESQUIRE.

MAY 1, 1723.

I.

WHO, much diftinguish'd, yet is bless'd?

Who, dignified above the reft,

Does, ftill, unenvied live?

Not to the man whofe wealth abounds,
Nor to the man whofe fame refounds,
Does heaven fuch favour give,
Nor to the noble-born, nor to the ftrong,
Nor to the gay, the beautiful, or young.

II.

Whom then, fecure of happiness,

Does every eye beholding blefs,
And every tongue commend?

Him, Pultency, who, poffeffing ftore,
Is not folicitous of more,

Who, to mankind a friend,

Nor envies, nor is envied by, the great,
Polite in courts, polite in his retreat :

III.

Whofe unambitious, active foul,
Attends the welfare of the whole,

When public forms alife,
And, in the calm, a thousand ways.
Diveries his nights and days,
Still degantly wife;,

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While books, each morn, the lightsome soul invite, And friends, with feafon'd mirth, improve the night.

IV.

In him do men no blemish see;
And factions in his praise agree,

When most they vex the state:
Diftinguifh'd favourite of the skies,
Belov'd he lives, lamented dies:

Yet, fhall he not to fate

Submit entire, the rescuing Muse shall fave

His precious name, and win him from the grave.

V.

Too frail is brafs and polish'd stone;

Perpetual fame the Mufe alone

On merit can bestow :

Yet, must the time-enduring fong,

The verfe unrival'd by the throng,

From Nature's bounty flow:

Th' ungifted tribe in metre pass away,
Oblivion's fport, the poets of a day.

VI.

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What laws fhall o'er the Ode prefide ?

In vain would art presume to guide

The chariot-wheels of praise, When Fancy, driving, ranges free,

Fresh flowers felecting, like the bee,

And regularly ftrays,

While Nature does, disdaining aids of skill,

The mind with thought, the ears with numbers, fill.

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VII. As

VII.

As when the Theban hymns divine
Make proud Olympian victors fhine
In an eternal blaze,

The varying measures, ever new,
Unbeaten tracks of fame purfue,

While through the glorious maze

The poet leads his heroes to renown,

And weaves in verfe a never-fading crown.

To Mifs MARGARET PULTENEY, Daughter of

DANIEL PULTENEY, Efq; in the Nursery.

APRIL 27, 1727.

DIMPLY damfel, fweetly smiling,

All careffing, none beguiling,

Bud of beauty, fairly blowing,
Every charm to Nature owing,
This and that new thing admiring,
Much of this and that enquiring,
Knowledge by degrees attaining,
Day by day fome virtue gaining,
Ten years hence, when I leave chiming,
Beardlefs poets, fondly rhyming,
(Fefcued now, perhaps, in fpelling,)
On thy riper beauties dwelling,
Shall accufe each killing feature
Of the cruel, charming, creature,
Whom I knew complying, willing,
Tender, and averfe from killing.

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