ODE I.
[Kings rule their Flocks with awful Sway]
Inscribed to John Duncombe, Esq; of Stocks,
in the County of Hertford, the Translator's Brother.
Kings rule their Flocks with awful Sway;
Yet Kings themselves must Jove obey:
The Spoils of conquer'd Giants crown the God,
And all Things tremble at his sovereign Nod!
Th'Ambitious try, by various Arts,
To bribe, and win the People's Hearts:
One Candidate his large Possessions grace;
Another sues, distinguish'd by his Race:
On Fame and Morals this relies;
That, throng'd with Clients, claims the Prize:
But Death shall level All; for each Man's Name
Is rolling in the Urn's capacious Frame.
The Wretch who views, with conscious Dread,
A Sword hang threat'ning o'er his Head,
Starves, tho' Sicilian Banquets crown the Board,
Nor softest Strains can balmy Sleep afford;
Yet will not balmy Sleep disdain
The Cottage of the humble Swain;
Nor the cool Grove; nor Tempé's happy Vales,
Still gently fann'd by Zephyr's genial Gales.
He, who can curb his wild Desires,
Nor more, than Nature asks, requires,
Beholds Arcturus set, devoid of Fear,
Nor trembles when the stormy Goats appear;
Repines not, when his Vines with Hail
Are struck, or blighted Harvests fail;
Or that his drooping Orchards now complain
Of Summer's Heat, and now of Winter's Rain.
Not so the Man, by high-rais'd Moles
Confining ev'n the finny Shoals
To narrower Bounds; for, see the crowded Shore
By Builders seiz'd, where Waves were heard to roar.
The Lord, disdainful of the Land,
Bids the wild Billows leave the Strand;
But could his lofty Turrets reach the Sky,
Yet Menaces and Fears would mount as high.
Care climbs the brazen Vessel's Sides,
Behind the flying Horseman rides;
Nor quits th'applauded Consul's gilded Car,
Marching triumphant from the finish'd War.
Then since nor stately Domes, nor Wealth,
Can yield Content, or purchase Health;
Since purple Robes, which gay as Phosphor shine,
The Spice of Araby, Falernian Wine,
And Persian Odors, can impart
No Balm to heal a wounded Heart;
Why should I wish to rear a stately Pile
On Phrygian Pillars, in the modern Style,
Gaz'd at with Envy? or to change
My Vale, where Flocks and Heifers range,
And quit my rural Ease, and Sabine Seat,
For the more cumb'rous Riches of the Great?
1720.