The laft Chorus of the Third Act of SENECA's HERCULES OETEUS.

Verum eft quod cecinit facer, &c.

'TIS true what facred Orpheus fang, when he
Beneath the banks of Thracian Rhodope,
Sat and bewail'd his fad calamities,

And ftruck his gentle harp in mournful elegies.
'Tis true that nothing bears eternal date,

By th' refiftless laws of powerful Fate.

At his foft strains swift torrents ftopt their courfe,
And murmuring waters loft their wonted force;
And whilst the other rivers thus delay'd,
Bistonian Gete wand'ring Hebrus stay'd;

The filent woods and facred groves came there,
And with them brought the min'strels of the air;
Or if a ftragling bird should wand'ring fly,
To him he falls to hear the harmony;

Mount Otho's cleft, its hollow rocks around,
And swallow'd all the raging Centaurs down:
Near the wide hill riv❜lets of melted fnow,
Forgot its rambling roads and ceas'd to flow

The

The wanton Dryads did to him retire,
And wild beasts came to hear the tuneful lyre,
The herds fat near the lions, void of fear,
Nor were the flocks afraid of any bear;

Here fnakes and all their pois'nous brood were kind,
For tho' they came, they left their ftings behind.
He dar'd to vifit all the ghofts beneath,

Hell, and the inmost flinty feats of death;
Striking his harp, he charm'd with foft delight,
Pluto and all the ghaftly hags of night,
With horrid Proferpine, nor did he fear
The lake by which the bleft celestials sware;
The lazy wheel forbore its curfive round,
And Tytius birds left off to hear the found;
Hither came Charon's boat, without an oar,
To hear thofe tunes which ne'er were heard before;
Then Tantal's waters ceas'd to roll along,

He loft his thirst, amaz'd to hear the fong.
When Orpheus left those gloomy feats below,
Sweet'ning his way, as he did gently go,

With fongs, fweet songs play'd on his tuneful lyre,
Which made the rolling-ftone ftand and admire:
All dangers now being paft, the fatal Three,
Supply'd the threads of his Eurydice;

But while they both together trav❜ling were,
Unmindful and unable to forbear,

I

Diftrusting

Distrusting Fate, Orpheus look'd back, and stay'd
To take one view of the unhappy maid;

Here all his fongs, and all his pains were loft,
His love was gone, and all his hopes were cross'd;
One greedy look made void his pensive care,

Thus perish'd the twice loft unhappy fair :

Then he, through woods and darkfome fhades did

rove,

And fought to folace his uneafy love,

With mournful fongs, thus fung he, thus he said, That laws among the gods themselves were made: The greedy Fates respect no man, and why? -That all that's ever born is born to die.

HORACE, Book I. ODE V.

To PYRRHA.

Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rofà, &c.

WHAT youth with liquid odours on his head,

And rofes for his bed,

Alike by artful hands and nature made,
Does wanton Pyrrha thus embrace,

In fuch a fecret place,
Beneath a myrtle fhade?

For

1

For whom falfe nymph doft thou prepare, With fingle neatness to perfume and braid thy hair?

How oft' fhall he

Bewail thy perjury,

And curfe thy perjur'd gods, that are so false to thee.

He that as yet hath never try'd

A harlot's flattery,

Shall wonder at th' inconftant tide,

That's fometimes high and fometimes low,

A quiet ebb, or a tempeftuous flow.

He that enjoys thee now,

Finds thou art kind, and thinks thee ever fo;
Alas! he does not know,

That faithless thou

Can break as foon as make a vow.

Unhappy fure are they

To whom a painted proftitute feems fair and gay.
But now I'll thank the gods, as failors do,
That facrifice the garment that they wore,

To the kind God that brought 'em fafe to fhore,
For I've escap'd your flatt'rries and you.

The

The SIXTH EPIGRAM of THEOCRITUS.

Of the Shepherd that mourned for the Lofs of his Kid.

UNHAPPY Thirfis, filly swain,

Still you lament and weep in vain,
In vain you cry and make your moan,
Little Ciffey's dead and gone;

Poor kid he wanders all alone.

Through the gloomy fhades below,
Where frightful ghosts glide to and fro;
There you wafte yourself in fighs,
And drain the fluices of your eyes:
Twould be, alas ! in vain to mourn,
For Ciffey never will return:

A rav'nous wolf, with griping paws,
Tore him with his crooked claws,
And champ'd him in his bloody jaws :
But now the dogs begin to fcowl,
Set up their hollow throats and howl,
But what of that? 'tis ftill in vain,
To think to fetch him back again;
For fure the wolf was too unkind,
He left, no, not a bit behind.

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