Then shall he shine, a glorious gueft,

In the bright mansions of the blest, Where due rewards on Virtue are bestow'd,

And reap the golden fruits of what his Autumn fow'd.

ASON G.

tet tet

I.

WAY, let nought to love displeasing,
My Winifreda, move thy fear,

Let nought delay the heav'nly bleffing,
Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy care.
II.

What though no grants of royal donors
With pompous titles grace our blood,
We'll fhine in more substantial honours,
And to be noble we'll be good.
III.

What though from Fortune's lavish bounty
No mighty treasures we poffefs,
We'll find within our pittance plenty,

And be content without excess.

VOL. IV.

U

IV. Still

IV.

Still fhall each kind returning season
Sufficient for our wishes give,

For we will live a life of reason,

And that's the only life to live.
V.

Our name, whilft virtue thus we tender,
Shall fweetly found where'er 'tis spoke,
And all the great ones much shall wonder,
How they admire fuch little folk.
VI.

Through youth and age in love excelling,
We'll hand in hand together tread,

Sweet fmiling Peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet smiling babes, our bed.
VII.

How fhould I love the pretty creatures,
Whilst round my knees they fondly clung,
To fee 'em look their mother's features,
To hear 'em lifp their mother's tongue!
VIII.

And when with envy Time transported
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,

And I go wooing in my boys.

The

An ODE, written in 1717, on occafion of the Duke of MARLBOROUGH's Apoplexy.

I.

WEFUL hero, Marlb'rough, rise:

Sleepy charms I come to break :

Higher turn thy languid eyes:

Lo! thy Genius calls; awake!

II.

Well furvey this faithful plan,

Which records thy life's great story;

'Tis a fhort, but crowded span,

Full of triumphs, full of glory.

III.

One by one thy deeds review,

Sieges, battles, thick appear;

Former wonders, loft in new,

Greatly fill each pompous year,
IV.

This is Blenheim's crimson field,

Wet with gore, with slaughter stain’d!

Here retiring squadrons yield,

And a bloodless wreath is gain'd!

V.

Ponder in thy godlike mind

All the wonders thou haft wrought;

Tyrants, from their pride declin'd,
Be the fubject of thy thought!
VI.

Reft thee here, while life may laft:
Th' utmost blifs, to man allow'd,
Is to trace his actions past,

And to own them great and good.

VII.

But 'tis gone a mortal born!

Swift the fading scenes remove

Let them pafs with noble scorn,

Thine are worlds, which roll above.
VIII.

Poets, prophets, heroes, kings,

Pleas'd, thy ripe approach foresee ;
Men, who acted wond'rous things,
Though they yield in fame to thee.
IX.

Foremost, in the patriot-band,
Shining with diftinguish'd day!
See thy friend, Godolphin ftand!

See! he beckons thee away.

X. Yonder

X.

Yonder feats and fields of light

Let thy ravish'd thought explore;
Wishing, panting for thy flight!
Half an angel; man no more.

TRANSLATIONS from HORACE.

By Mr. MARRIOTT, of Trinity-Hall, Cambridge.

Ο

Book I. Ode XVII.

Invitation to his Mistress.

FT Faunus leaves Arcadia's plain,

And to the Sabine hill retreats:

He guards my flocks from rushing rain,
From piercing winds, and fcorching heats.

Where lurks the thyme, or fhrubs appear,
My wanton kids fecurely play;

My goats no pois'nous ferpent fear,

Safe wand'ring through the woodland way.