The poems of Ossian &c. containing the Poetical Works of James Macpherson, Esq. in prose and rhyme: with notes and illustrations by Malcolm Laing. In two volumes |
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HORACE,
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 | The poems of Ossian |  |
601
HORACE,
Ode xvi. Book 2. imitated.
The weary sailor calls for ease,
When winds turmoil the angry seas,
And not a moon or star to guide
His dreary course along the tide;
When half the sky in showers descends,
And wind the gilded streamer rends;
Blessed he, within the hut, he cries,
Now bends in rest his peaceful eyes;
Or hears the tempest idly rave;
No av'rice tempts him to the wave.
When winds turmoil the angry seas,
And not a moon or star to guide
His dreary course along the tide;
When half the sky in showers descends,
And wind the gilded streamer rends;
Blessed he, within the hut, he cries,
Now bends in rest his peaceful eyes;
602
No av'rice tempts him to the wave.
Turn to the noisy camp your eye,
There care corrodes, and starts the sigh.
Shew me the man among them all,
Who drove o'er Minden's plains the Gaul;
When Broglio's ranks at distance rise,
And cannon murmur through the skies;
But would forego the breath of fame,
And live at ease without a name.
There care corrodes, and starts the sigh.
Shew me the man among them all,
Who drove o'er Minden's plains the Gaul;
When Broglio's ranks at distance rise,
And cannon murmur through the skies;
But would forego the breath of fame,
And live at ease without a name.
'Tis not the sash, the gown, the robe,
These gilded baits that catch the mob;
Or tides of flatt'rers at the door,
Can paint with bliss the passing hour;
Or half the cares within controul,
And calm the tumults of the soul.
These gilded baits that catch the mob;
Or tides of flatt'rers at the door,
Can paint with bliss the passing hour;
Or half the cares within controul,
And calm the tumults of the soul.
Nor can the dome or lofty wall,
Or guards that crowd the tyrant's hall,
With all their instruments of wars,
Exclude the dark, invading cares:
Around the bed of state they fly,
And dash the guilty cup of joy.
Or guards that crowd the tyrant's hall,
With all their instruments of wars,
Exclude the dark, invading cares:
Around the bed of state they fly,
And dash the guilty cup of joy.
More happy he! whose guiltless mind
Is to his native fields confined;
Blessed with his state; and craves no more
Than heaven allowed his sires before:
Who sees his frugal table spread,
Beneath the roof his fathers made;
No care, by day, disturbs his breast,
He sleeps, by night, his brows in rest.
Is to his native fields confined;
Blessed with his state; and craves no more
Than heaven allowed his sires before:
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Beneath the roof his fathers made;
No care, by day, disturbs his breast,
He sleeps, by night, his brows in rest.
Whence all these schemes, this wild uproar,
Since life itself shall soon be o'er?
Why do we, with advent'rous eyes,
See other suns in other skies?
Or pant where Indian billows roll?
Or freeze beneath the arctic pole?
In vain we fly destructive Care,
The monster in our breasts we bear.
Since life itself shall soon be o'er?
Why do we, with advent'rous eyes,
See other suns in other skies?
Or pant where Indian billows roll?
Or freeze beneath the arctic pole?
In vain we fly destructive Care,
The monster in our breasts we bear.
Go, then; forsake your calm retreat,
Cringe at the portals of the great;
Attend the gaudy venal train,
Throw virtue off, to raise your gain;
Or spread your canvas to the gale;
Or court the muses in the vale;
If still in sorrow you repine,
Fly for relief to whores and wine.
Cringe at the portals of the great;
Attend the gaudy venal train,
Throw virtue off, to raise your gain;
Or spread your canvas to the gale;
Or court the muses in the vale;
If still in sorrow you repine,
Fly for relief to whores and wine.
In vain you fly from inbred woe:
Care climbs the vessel's painted prow:
Care haunts the palace of the great,
And hovers round the dark retreat:
Care clouds the fair one's lovely face,
And floats within the sparkling glass.
Even round the sprightly muse it flies,
And taints the numbers as they rise.
Care climbs the vessel's painted prow:
Care haunts the palace of the great,
And hovers round the dark retreat:
Care clouds the fair one's lovely face,
And floats within the sparkling glass.
604
And taints the numbers as they rise.
If life you want undashed with woe,
Serene enjoy the instant now;
Nor ills you left behind deplore,
Nor eye the giant grief before;
If Fortune shines, enjoy the ray,
And smile her very gloom away:
Let tempests sweep and billows roar,
The storm of life shall soon be o'er.
Serene enjoy the instant now;
Nor ills you left behind deplore,
Nor eye the giant grief before;
If Fortune shines, enjoy the ray,
And smile her very gloom away:
Let tempests sweep and billows roar,
The storm of life shall soon be o'er.
Some perish in their youthful bloom;
With age some wither to the tomb;
Heaven, as a curse, to some supplies
The years to others it denies;
What can the longest liver do,
But see a greater train of woe?
With age some wither to the tomb;
Heaven, as a curse, to some supplies
The years to others it denies;
What can the longest liver do,
But see a greater train of woe?
Be yours in public life to shine,
With all the glory of your line;
To rule the battle's noisy tide,
Or Britain's great concerns to guide;
Teach virtue to a venal throng,
While senates listen to your tongue,
To me my fortune more severe,
Has only given a mind sincere;
A spark of genius to pass o'er
The tedious dulness of the hour;
A soul that can a knave despise,
And eye the great with careless eyes.
With all the glory of your line;
To rule the battle's noisy tide,
Or Britain's great concerns to guide;
Teach virtue to a venal throng,
While senates listen to your tongue,
To me my fortune more severe,
Has only given a mind sincere;
A spark of genius to pass o'er
The tedious dulness of the hour;
A soul that can a knave despise,
And eye the great with careless eyes.
| The poems of Ossian | |