The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | ||
346
HOR. Lib. I. ODE XXII.
Integer vitæ.
Sinless, and sound, the bold good liver dares,
Nor needs the Moor's keen javelin, or his bow;
No quiver, charg'd with latent deaths he bears,
Where pointed poisons glow.
Nor needs the Moor's keen javelin, or his bow;
No quiver, charg'd with latent deaths he bears,
Where pointed poisons glow.
347
Safe, o'er the quicksand's foamy shoals he rows;
Safe, every wild of Caucasus surveys:
Or, where thy fabled stream, Hydaspes, flows,
Dreadless of danger, strays.
Safe, every wild of Caucasus surveys:
Or, where thy fabled stream, Hydaspes, flows,
Dreadless of danger, strays.
Once, o'er Sabinum's forest's silent shade,
Wand'ring, the charms of Ælia's eyes, I sung:
A Wolf, out-starting, where, unarm'd, I stray'd,
Listen'd, and backward sprung.
Wand'ring, the charms of Ælia's eyes, I sung:
A Wolf, out-starting, where, unarm'd, I stray'd,
Listen'd, and backward sprung.
Yet, fiercer savage never rang'd the glades
Of warlike Daunia's oak-abounding plains,
Nor paw'd the Lion's patrimonial shades,
Where Juba's offspring reigns.
Of warlike Daunia's oak-abounding plains,
Nor paw'd the Lion's patrimonial shades,
Where Juba's offspring reigns.
Thence though expos'd to bleaks, where nothing blooms,
Where never bud unfolds, to let in spring;
But one, long winter's dayless midnight glooms,
Black as the Raven's wing.
Where never bud unfolds, to let in spring;
But one, long winter's dayless midnight glooms,
Black as the Raven's wing.
Hence—tho' an outcast, to the sun's lost heat,
Houseless, and screen'd by no kind cavern's shades,
Still wou'd I love that face, whose smile so sweet,
A tongue, still sweeter aids!
Houseless, and screen'd by no kind cavern's shades,
Still wou'd I love that face, whose smile so sweet,
A tongue, still sweeter aids!
The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | ||