The Works of Horace In English Verse By several hands. Collected and Published By Mr. Duncombe. With Notes Historical and Critical |
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The Same EPISTLE Imitated.
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 | The Works of Horace In English Verse |  |
388
The Same EPISTLE Imitated.
[Haste, Muse, to Spithead, and (if Winds do not alter)]
Haste, Muse, to Spithead, and (if Winds do not alter)
You soon in the Swift will arrive at Gibraltar;
There aboard the St. George (she'll be known by the Pennant)
Drink a full Can of Flip to my Friend the Lieutenant;
With farther Increase to his Laurels and Spoils,
And a Flag at the last in Reward of his Toils.
If of Me he enquires, you may frankly reply
That you know not a Mortal so restless as I:
Not because that at Bowls I've had litttle Success,
Or that Failure of Fines makes my Fellowship less,
Or that Colds have prevented my Rides to the Hills;
But my Mind is perplex'd with fantastical Ills:
With my Friends who advise me, no Sailor's so warm,
When in Sight of a Prize, or in Dread of a Storm.
Here, to Town I'm inventing, or wishing for Calls,
And longing for Turns at the Temple or Paul's.
There, ‘College alone gives me real Delight,
‘So careless the Day, and so peaceful the Night!’
Were I in his Case, now the Channel would please,
Now the Straits, now the Bay, now th'American Seas:
My Wish, if a Convoy, would soon be to cruize;
If a Cruizer, no Doubt I a Convoy should chuse.
You soon in the Swift will arrive at Gibraltar;
There aboard the St. George (she'll be known by the Pennant)
Drink a full Can of Flip to my Friend the Lieutenant;
With farther Increase to his Laurels and Spoils,
And a Flag at the last in Reward of his Toils.
If of Me he enquires, you may frankly reply
That you know not a Mortal so restless as I:
Not because that at Bowls I've had litttle Success,
Or that Failure of Fines makes my Fellowship less,
Or that Colds have prevented my Rides to the Hills;
But my Mind is perplex'd with fantastical Ills:
With my Friends who advise me, no Sailor's so warm,
When in Sight of a Prize, or in Dread of a Storm.
Here, to Town I'm inventing, or wishing for Calls,
And longing for Turns at the Temple or Paul's.
389
‘So careless the Day, and so peaceful the Night!’
Were I in his Case, now the Channel would please,
Now the Straits, now the Bay, now th'American Seas:
My Wish, if a Convoy, would soon be to cruize;
If a Cruizer, no Doubt I a Convoy should chuse.
That his Captain approves him I readily guess;
Next ask how he's lik'd by the Crew and the Mess:
If there too he pleases, in prosperous Gales
Bid him look to his Ballast, and take in his Sails!
Next ask how he's lik'd by the Crew and the Mess:
If there too he pleases, in prosperous Gales
Bid him look to his Ballast, and take in his Sails!
Cambridge.
| The Works of Horace In English Verse | |