HORACE. LIB. IV. ODE 7. BY SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, BART." THE fnows are melted all away, And all the streams, that went aftray, The brook again into her bed receives. 5 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 cold grows foft with western gales, Born 1628; dyed 1698. 10 15 20 But we, when once our race is done, (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 25 The joys thou lofeft by thy idle fears? 30 The pleasant hours thou spend'st in health, The use thou mak'st of youth and wealth, 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, cherish, The life is fate-free that you You once thought fit to fave. II. Dry (sweet) at last, those twins of light, And all of us are blind: 5 The tears that you so freely shed, 10 Are both too precious for the dead, And for the quick too kind. III. Fie, pretty Doris figh no more, From rocks and quickfands free; Your wishes will fecure his way, May laugh at destiny. * Born 1630; dyed 1688. 15 IV. Still then thofe tempefts of your breast, The man will foon return: V. On him you lavish grief in vain, Whilft you continue true : That man' difafter is above, And needs no pity, that does love And is belov'd by you. 20 25 30 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, 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 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; 15 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 |