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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 Ode Imitated.
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236

The Same Ode Imitated.

[I hate the common Herd: Hence, ye Profane!—]

By Barton Booth, Esq,
I hate the common Herd: Hence, ye Profane!—
Ye silent uncorrupted Train,
Virgins and blooming Youths, attend my Lyre!
Lo! great Apollo's sacred Choir,
With Strains unheard before, their Priest inspire.
Empires mighty Monarchs sway:
Those mighty Monarchs Jove obey:
He bends the Heavens with his Imperial Nod;
Prostrate the Giants fall, and own the Conqueror God!
Some the first Post of Honour claim,
Proud of their Birth and ancient Name;
Rivall'd by those, whose wide-spread Furrows bear
The various Harvest of the Year:
Vain is their Contest, vain their Boast;
In Death is all Distinction lost—
While, o'er the impious Courtier's Head
Threatening, aloft the Dagger hung,

237

In vain the costly Feast was spread,
In vain the tuneful Minstrel sung:
Sleep weighs his Eyelids down no more,
Nor Philomel's sweet Strains his murder'd Peace restore.
Lolling at Ease, in humble Cells,
Gentle Morpheus ever dwells;
Or by the hoary Forest's Side,
Or where the murmuring Waters glide—
Seek what Nature can suffice,
And fearless view the troubled Shore,
When the black Tempest veils the Skies,
And the tumultuous Surges roar—
Whither, at length, will human Pride aspire!
The Great their Fathers' Palaces disdain,
Encumb'ring with vast Towers the Main:
From the contracted Latian Shore,
Old Ocean's various Broods retire,
And distant, and more spacious Seas explore—
Go, climb thy lofty Argo's Side,
Or trust thy Courser's swift Career;
Or in thy marble Towers confide;
Vain is thy Flight, alas! from Care;
There's no Retreat, proud Man! from Guilt and Fear.

238

Since, then, fair Peace and Innocence,
Disdaining Pomp, and Power, and Pride,
United shed their sweetest Influence,
Where artless Maids and lab'ring Hinds reside,
Grant my Desire, a homely Seat,
Far from the Guilty and the Great;
A limpid Stream, an ancient Grove;
And Health and Joy to her I love;
Grant my Desire, propitious Jove!

Digression to his Wife, formerly Miss St. Loe.

Happy the Hour, when first our Souls were join'd!
The social Virtues, and the chearful Mind,
Have ever crown'd our Days, beguil'd our Pain,
Strangers to Discord, and her clamorous Train.
Connubial Friendship, hail! But haste away;
The Lark and Nightingale reproach thy Stay:
From splendid Theatres to rural Scenes
Joyous retire—So bounteous Heaven ordains!
There we may dwell in Peace;
There bless the rising Morn, and flowery Field,
Charm'd with the guileless Sports the Woods and Waters yield!