The Works of William Cowper Comprising his poems, correspondence, and translations. With a life of the author, by the editor, Robert Southey |
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HOR. LIB. II. ODE XVI. |
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The Works of William Cowper | ||
HOR. LIB. II. ODE XVI.
Otium Divos rogat in patenti.
Ease is the weary merchant's prayer,
Who ploughs by night the Ægean flood,
When neither moon nor stars appear,
Or faintly glimmer through the cloud.
Who ploughs by night the Ægean flood,
When neither moon nor stars appear,
Or faintly glimmer through the cloud.
210
For ease the Mede with quiver graced,
For ease the Thracian hero sighs;
Delightful ease all pant to taste,
A blessing which no treasure buys.
For ease the Thracian hero sighs;
Delightful ease all pant to taste,
A blessing which no treasure buys.
For neither gold can lull to rest,
Nor all a Consul's guard beat off
The tumults of a troubled breast,
The cares that haunt a gilded roof.
Nor all a Consul's guard beat off
The tumults of a troubled breast,
The cares that haunt a gilded roof.
Happy the man whose table shows
A few clean ounces of old plate,
No fear intrudes on his repose,
No sordid wishes to be great.
A few clean ounces of old plate,
No fear intrudes on his repose,
No sordid wishes to be great.
Poor short lived things, what plans we lay!
Ah, why forsake our native home,
To distant climates speed away,
For self sticks close where'er we roam!
Ah, why forsake our native home,
To distant climates speed away,
For self sticks close where'er we roam!
Care follows hard and soon o'ertakes
The well rigg'd ship, the warlike steed;
Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes;
Not the wind flies with half her speed.
The well rigg'd ship, the warlike steed;
Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes;
Not the wind flies with half her speed.
From anxious fears of future ill
Guard well the cheerful, happy now;
Gild e'en your sorrows with a smile,
No blessing is unmix'd below.
Guard well the cheerful, happy now;
Gild e'en your sorrows with a smile,
No blessing is unmix'd below.
Thy neighing steeds and lowing herds,
Thy numerous flocks around thee graze,
And the best purple Tyre affords
Thy robe magnificent displays.
Thy numerous flocks around thee graze,
And the best purple Tyre affords
Thy robe magnificent displays.
211
On me indulgent Heaven bestow'd
A rural mansion, neat and small;
This lyre;—and as for yonder crowd,
The happiness to hate them all.
A rural mansion, neat and small;
This lyre;—and as for yonder crowd,
The happiness to hate them all.
The Works of William Cowper | ||