STANZAS

IN IMITATION OF

HORACE, LIB. II. ODE XIV.

Ebeu fugaces, Pofthume, Pofihume,
Labuntur anni, &c.

I.

An! no, 't is all in vain, believe me 'tis,
This pious artifice:

Not all these pray'rs and alms can buy
One moment tow'rd eternity.

Eternity! that boundless race

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Which Time himself can never run,

(Swift as he flies with an unwearied pace)

Which, when ten thousand thousand years are done,
Is ftill the fame, and ftill to be begun.

Fix'd are thofe limits which prescribe
A fhort extent to the most lafting breath;
And tho' thou couldst for facrifice lay down
Millions of other lives to fave thy own,
'T'were fruitlefs all; not all would bribe
One fupernumerary gafp from Death.

In vain's thy inexhausted store
Of wealth, in vain thy pow'r;
Thy honours, titles, all must fail,
Where piety itself can nought avail.

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The rich, the great, the innocent, and juft,
Muft all be huddled to the grave

With the most vile and ignominious slave,
And undistinguish'd lie in duft.

In vain the fearful flies alarms,

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In vain he is fecure from wounds of arms,.

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In vain avoids the faithlets feas,

And is confin'd to home and ease,

Bounding his knowledge to extend his days:
In vain are all thofe arts we try,

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All our evafions and regret to die;

From the contagion of mortality
No clime is pure, no air is free;

And no retreat

Is fo obfcure as to be hid from Fate.

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Thou muft, alas! thou muft, my Friend,
(The very hour thou now doft spend
In ftudying to avoid brings on thy end)
Thou must forego the deareft joys of life,
Leave the warm bofom of thy tender wife,
And all the much-lov'd offspring of her womb, 40
To moulder in the cold embraces of a tomb.

All must be left, and all be loft;

Thy houfe, whofe ftately ftructure fo much coft,
Shall not afford

Room for the ftinking carcafs of its lord.

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Of all thy pleafant gardens, grots, and bow'rs,
Thy coftly fruits, thy far-fetch'd plants and flow'rs,

Nought fhalt thou fave,

Or but a sprig of rosemary shalt have,
To wither with thee in the grave:

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Which thou haft taken fo much pains to get :

All thy hid ftores he shall unfold,

And fet at large thy captive gold.

That precious wine, condemn'd by thee

To vaults and prifons, fhall again be free;

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Bury'd alive tho' now it lies,

Again fhall rife,

Again its fparkling furface fhow,

And free as element profufely flow.

With fuch high food he fhall fet forth his feafts, 65

That Cardinals fhall wish to be his guests,

And pamper'd prelates fee

Themfelves outdone in luxury.

68

M

PRIAM'S

LAMENTATION AND PETITION

ΤΟ

ACHILLES

FOR THE BODY OF HIS SON HECTOR.

Tranflated from the Greek of Homer, 'Inidd. w.

Beginning at this line,

Ως άρα φωνήσας ἀπέβη πρὸς μακρὸν, Ὄλυμπον
Ερμείας:

The Argument Introduäsry.

HECTOR'S body, (after he was flain) remained ftill in the poffeffion of Achilles, for which Priam made great lamentation. Jupiter had pity on him, and fent Iris to comfort him, and direct him after what manner he thould go to Achilles' tent, and how he fhould there ranfom the body of his fon. Priam accordingly orders his chariot to be got. ready, and, preparing rich prefents for Achilles, fets forward to the Grecian camp, accompanied by nobody but his herald Idæus. Mercury, at Jupiter's command, meets him by the way, in the figure of a young Grecian, and, after bemoaning his misfortunes, undertakes to drive his chariot, unobferved, through the guards, and to the door of Achilles' tent; which having performed, he discovered himself a god, and giving him a fhort instruction how to move Achilles to compaffion, flew up to heaven.

So fpake the god, and heav'nward took his flight; When Priam from his chariot did alight,

Leaving Idæus there, alone he went,

With folemn pace into Achilles' tent.

Heedlefs he pafs'd thro' various rooms of state,
Until approaching where the hero fat;

IC

}

There at a feaft the good old Priam found
Jove's beft belov'd, with all his chiefs around:
Two only were t' attend his perfon plac'd,
Automedon and Alcymus; the rest
At greater distance greater state exprest.
Priam, unfeen by thefe, his way pursu'd,
And first of all was by Achilles view'd:
About his knees his trembling arms he caft,
And agonizing grafp'd, and held 'em fast;
Then caught his hands, and kifs'd and prefs'd'em clofe,
Thofe hands, th' inhuman authors of his woes;
Those hands, whofe unrelenting force had cost
Much of his blood (for many fons he loft.)
But as a wretch who has a murder done,

And feeking refuge does from juftice run,

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Ent'ring fome houfe in hafte, where he's unknown,
Creates amazement in the lookers-on;

So did Achilles gaze, furpris'd to fee
The godlike Priam's royal mifery.
All on each other gaz'd, all in furprise

And mute, yet feem'd to queftion with their eyes,
Till he at length the folemn filence broke,

And thus the venerable fuppliant fpoke.

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Divine Achilles! at your feet behold

"A proftrate king, in wretchedness grown old:
"Think on your father, and then look on me,
"His hoary age and helpiefs perfon fee;

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