Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude, 4 At eve, within yon studious nook, Chant, ere I sleep, my measured hymn; 5 While such pure joys my bliss create, INSCRIPTION OVER A CALM AND CLEAR SPRING IN BLENHEIM GARDENS. HERE quench your thirst, and mark in me Who, while my bounty I bestow, INSCRIBED ON A BEAUTIFUL GROTTO NEAR THE WATER. 1 THE Graces sought in yonder stream When Love's malicious godhead came, 2 Proud of the theft, the little god EPITAPH ON MR HEAD. spare his youth, O stay thy threatening hand, Nor break too soon young wedlock's early band! But if his gentle and ingenuous mind, The generous temper, and the taste refined, A soul unconscious of corruption's stain, If learning, wit, and genius plead in vain, O let the mourning Bride, to stop thy spear, Oppose the meek resistance of a tear! And when to soothe thy force his virtues fail, Let weeping faith and widow'd love prevail ! TRANSLATIONS AND PARAPHRASES. JOB, XXXIX. DECLARE, if heavenly wisdom bless thy tongue, While, in th' oppressive agonies of birth, Silent they bow the sorrowing head to earth; Why leave their dams to search the gloomy wood? The waste his house, the wilderness his home; Will the fierce Unicorn obey thy call, Who paints the Peacock's train with radiant eyes, 10 20 Thoughtless she leaves amid the dusty way Her eggs, to ripen in the genial ray; Nor heeds, that some fell beast, who thirsts for blood, Or the rude foot, may crush the future brood. In her no love the tender offspring share, Outstrip the rider's rage, and tower amidst the skies. 29 40 Didst thou the Horse with strength and beauty deck? Hast thou in thunder clothed his nervous neck? Will he, like grovelling grasshoppers afraid, Start at each sound, at every breeze dismay'd? A cloud of fire his lifted nostrils raise, And breathe a glorious terror as they blaze. He paws indignant, and the valley spurns, Rejoicing in his might, and for the battle burns. When quivers rattle, and the frequent spear Flies flashing, leaps his heart with languid fear? Swallowing with fierce and greedy rage the ground, "Is this," he cries, "the trumpet's warlike sound?" 50 Eager he scents the battle from afar, And all the mingling thunder of the war. Flies the fierce Hawk by thy supreme command, Seeks with her thirsty brood th' ensanguined plain, 60 There bathes her beak in blood, companion of the slain. A PASTORAL IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER. FROM THEOCRITUS, IDYLL. XX. 1 As late I strove Lucilla's lip to kiss, Not Fancy's hand should join my courtly lip 2 As thus she spake, full proud and boasting lasse, And as a peacocke pearke, in dalliance She bragly turned her ungentle face, And all disdaining eyed my shape askaunce: 3 Tell me, my fellows all, am I not fair? Has fell enchantress blasted all my charms? 4 My lip with vermil was embellished, N |