VII.

For when within thy shady seat

First from the sultry town he chose,

And the tir'd senate's cares, his wish'd repose,
Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home
For social leisure; where my welcome feet,
Estrang'd from all the entangling ways

In which the restless vulgar strays,

Through Nature's simple paths with ancient Faith

might roam.

VIII.

And while around his sylvan scene
My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours,
Oft from the Athenian academic bowers

Their

sages came; oft heard our lingering walk The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green: And oft did Tully's reverend shade,

Though much for liberty afraid,

With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk.

IX.

But other guests were on their way,
And reach'd ere long this favour'd grove;
Even the celestial progeny of Jove,
Bright Venus, with her all-subduing son,
Whose golden shaft most willingly obey
The best and wisest. As they came,
Glad Hymen wav'd his genial flame,
And sang their happy gifts, and prais'd their spot-

less throne.

X.

I saw when through yon festive gate
He led along his chosen maid,

And to my friend with smiles presenting said, "Receive that fairest wealth which Heaven as

sign'd

To human fortune. Did thy lonely state One wish, one utmost hope confess? Behold, she comes to adorn and bless; Comes, worthy of thy heart, and equal to thy mind."

ODE XIII.

TO THE AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF THE HOUSE

OF BRANDENBURGII.

I.

1751.

THE men renown'd as chiefs of human race,
And born to lead in counsels or in arms,
Have seldom turn'd their feet from glory's chace
To dwell with books or court the Muse's charm.
Yet, to our eyes if haply time hath brought
Some genuine transcript of their calmer thought,
There still we own the wise, the great, or good;
And Cæsar there and Xenophon are seen,
As clear in spirit and sublime of mien,

As on Pharsalian plains, or by the Assyrian flood.

II.

Say thou too, Frederic, was not this thy aim? Thy vigils could the student's lamp engage,

Except for this? except that future Fame
Might read thy genius in the faithful page?
That if hereafter Envy shall presume
With words irreverent to inscribe thy tomb,
And baser weeds upon thy palms to fling,
That hence posterity may try thy reign,
Assert thy treaties, and thy wars explain,
And view in native lights the hero and the king.

III.

O evil foresight and pernicious care!
Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal?
Shall we the lessons of thy pen compare
With private honour or with public zeal?
Whence then at things divine those darts of
scorn!

Why are the woes, which virtuous men have

borne

For sacred truth, a prey to laughter given?
What fiend, what foe of Nature, urg'd thy arm
The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm?
To push this earth adrift, and leave it loose from
heaven?

IV.

Ye godlike shades of legislators old,

Ye who made Rome victorious, Athens wise,
Ye first of mortals with the bless'd enroll'd.
Say did not horror in your bosoms rise,
When thus by impious vanity impell'd
A magistrate, a monarch, ye beheld

Affronting civil order's holiest bands? Those bands which ye so labour'd to improve? Those hopes and fears of justice from above, Which tam'd the savage world to your divine commands?

Tempt me no more, insidious love:
Thy soothing sway

Long did my youthful bosom prove:
At length thy treason is discern'd,

At length some dear-bought caution earn'd: Away! nor hope my riper age to move.

How often, to myself unknown,

The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid. Have I admir'd! How often said, What joy to call a heart like hers one's own!

III.

But, flattering god,

O squanderer of content and ease,

In thy abode

Will care's rude lesson learn to please?

improve?

store

O say, deceiver, hast thou won

Proud Fortune to attend thy throne,

Or plac'd thy friends above her stern decrees?

ODE XV.

ON DOMESTIC MANNERS.

(UNFINISHED.)
I.

MEEK Honour, female shame,
O! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky,
From Albion dost thou fly;

Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame?
O beauty's only friend,

Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire:
Who selfish, bold desire

Dost to esteem and dear affection turn;

Alas! of thee forlorn

What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend?

II.

Behold; our youths in vain
Concerning nuptial happiness inquire:

Our maids no more aspire

The arts of bashful Hymen to attain ;
But with triumphant eyes
And cheeks impassive, as they move along,
Ask homage of the throng.

The lover swears that in a harlot's arms
Are found the self-same charms,

And worthless and deserted lives and dies.