HORACE. LIB. IV. ODE 7.

BY SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, BART."

THE fnows are melted all away,
The fields grow flow'ry, green, and gay,
The trees put on their tender leaves;

And all the streams, that went aftray,

The brook again into her bed receives.

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See! the whole earth has made a change:

The nymphs and graces naked range

About the fields, who fhrunk before

Into their caves. The empty grange

Prepares its room for a new summer's store.

Left thou shouldst hope immortal things,
The changing year inftruction brings,
The fleeting hour, that steals away
The beggar's time, and life of kings,
But ne'er returns them, as it does the day.

The cold grows foft with western gales,
The Summer over Spring prevails,
But yields to Autumn's fruitful rain,
As this to Winter ftorms and hails ;
Each loss the hafting moons repair again.

Born 1628; dyed 1698.

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But we, when once our race is done,
With Tullus, and Anchifes' fon,

(Though rich like one, like t'other good) To duft and fhades, without a fun, Defcend, and fink in deep oblivion's flood.

Who knows, if the kind gods will give
Another day to men that live
In hope of many diftant years;
Or if one night more shall retrieve

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The joys thou lofeft by thy idle fears?

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The pleasant hours thou spend'st in health,

The use thou mak'st of youth and wealth,
As what thou giv'st among thy friends
Escapes thy heirs, fo thofe the ftealth

Of time and death, where good and evil ends. 35

For when that comes, nor birth, nor fame,

Nor piety, nor honest name,

Can e'er restore thee.

Thefeus bold,

Nor chafte Hippolitus could tame

Devouring Fate, that fpares nor young nor old.

SONG,

BY CHARLES COTTON, ESQ.*

I.

FIE, pretty Doris! weep no more,

Damon is doubtless safe on fhoar,
Defpight of wind and wave;

cherish,

The life is fate-free that you
And 'tis unlike he now should perish

You once thought fit to fave.

II.

Dry (sweet) at last, those twins of light,
Which whilft eclips'd, with us 'tis night,

And all of us are blind:

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The tears that you so freely shed,

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Are both too precious for the dead,

And for the quick too kind.

III.

Fie, pretty Doris figh no more,
The gods your Damon will restore,

From rocks and quickfands free;

Your wishes will fecure his way,
And doubtless he, for whom you pray,

May laugh at destiny.

* Born 1630; dyed 1688.

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IV.

Still then thofe tempefts of your breast,
And fet that pretty heart at rest,

The man will foon return:
Those fighs for heav'n are only fit,
Arabian gums are not so sweet,
Nor off'rings when they burn.

V.

On him you lavish grief in vain,
Can't be lamented, nor complain,

Whilft you continue true :

That

man' difafter is above,

And needs no pity, that does love

And is belov'd by you.

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THE MORNING QUATRAINS.

BY THE SAME.

I.

THE cock has crow'd an hour ago,

'Tis time we now dull fleep forgo ; Tir'd nature is by fleep redrefs'd, And labour's overcome by rest.

V. 29. man's.

II.

We have out-done the work of night,
"Tis time we rise t'attend the light,
And e'er he shall his beams display,
To plot new bus'nefs for the day.

III.

None but the flothfull, or unfound,

Are by the fun in feathers found,

Nor, without rifing with the fun,

Can the world's bus'nefs e'er be done,

IV.

Hark! hark! the watchfull chanticleer
Tells us the day's bright harbinger

Peeps o'er the Eastern hills, to awe

And warn night's fov'reign to withdraw.

V.

The morning curtains now are drawn,

And now appears the blushing dawn;
Aurora has her roses shed,

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To ftrew the way Sol's fteeds muft tread. zo

VI.

Xanthus and Æthon harness'd are,

To roll away the burning carr,

And, fnorting flame, impatient bear
The dreffing of the chariotier.