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" What pleasurex, vain mistaken wretch, are thine!" (Virtue with scorn reply'd) “who sleep'st in ease
Insensate; whose soft limbs the toil decline
Draining the copious bowl, ere thirst require;
Whose tasteless joys anticipate desire ; Whom luxury supplies with appetite: Yet nature loaths; and you employ in vain Variety and art to conquer her disdain.
The sparkling nectar, cool'd with summer snows The dainty board, with choicest viands spread;
To thee are tasteless all! sincere repose Flies from thy flow'ry couch and downy bed.
For thou art only tir'd with indolence; Nor is thy sleep with toil and labour bought:
Th'imperfect sleep, that lulls thy languid sense In dull oblivious interval of thought; That kindly steals th' inactive hours away From the long, ling'ring space, that lengtliens out the day.
From bounteous nature's unexhausted stores Flows the pure fountain of sincere delights :
Averse to her, you waste the joyless hours; Sleep drowns thy days, and riot rules thy nights.
Immortal tho' thou art, indignant Jove
For ever banish'd from the realms above,
Fond wretch, that vainly weenest all delight To gratify the sense resery'd for thee!
Yet the most pleasing object to the sight, Thine own fair action, never didst thou see.
Tho' lull’d with softest sounds thou liest along; Soft music, warbling voices, melting lays;
Ne'er didst thou hear, more sweet than sweetest song Charming the soul, thou ne'er didst hear thy praise ! No-To thy revels let the fool repair : To such, go smooth thy speech; and spread thy tempting snare.
Vast happiness enjoy thy gay allies! A youth of follies; an old age of cares :
Young, yet enervate;, old, yet never wise; Vice wastes their vigour, and their mind impairs.
Vain, idle, delicate, in thoughtless ease, Reserving woes for age, their prime they spend;
All wretched, hopeless, in the evil days, With sorrow, to the verge of life they tend. Griev'd with the present; of the past asham'd; They live, and are despis'd: they die, nor more are nam'.
But with the gods, and godlike men, I dwell: . Me, his supreme delight, th' Almighty Sire
Regards well-pleas’d: whatever works excel, All or divine, or human, I inspire.
Counsel with strength, and industry with art,
My dictates arm, instruct, and niend the heart,
Nor need my friends the various costly feast; Hunger to them th' effects of art supplies;
Labour prepares their weary limbs to rest; Sweet is their sleep: light, cheerful, strong they rise.
Thro' health, thro' joy, thro' pleasure and renown,
At length to age all gently sinking down,
And when, the destin'd term at length complete, Their ashes rest in peace; eternal fame
Sounds wide their praise : triumphant over fate, In sacred song, for ever lives their name.
This, Hercules, is happiness! obey
That leads to fame; and raises thee from earth
Her words breathe fire celestial, and impart New vigour to his soul, that sudden caught
The generous flame: with great intent his heart Swells full; and labours with exalted thought:
The mist of error from his eyes dispellid, Thro' all her fraudful arts in clearest light
Sloth in her native form he now beheld; Unveil'd, she stood confess'd before his sight: False Siren !-All her vaunted charms, that shone So fresh erewhile, and fair; now wither'd, pale, and gone.
No more the rosy bloom in sweet disguise Masks her dissembled looks : each borrow'd grace
Leaves her wan cheek; pale sickness clouds her eyes, Livid and sunk, and passions dim her face.
As when fair Iris has a while display'd Her watry arch, with gaudy painture gay ;
While yet we gaze, the glorious colours fade, And from our wonder gently steal away : Where shone the beauteous phantom erst so bright, Now low rs the low-hung cloud, all gloomy to the sight.
But Virtue more engaging all the while
Beaming sweet influence. A milder smile
“ Lead, goddess, I am thine! (transported cry'd Alcides :) O propitious pow'r, thy way
Teach me! possess my soul; be thou my guide :
The heav'nly maid with strength divine endu'd His daring soul; there all her pow'rs combin'd:
Firm constancy, undaunted fortitude, Enduring patience, 'arm’d his mighty mind.
Unmov’d in toils, in dangers undismay'd,
From tiercest monsters, thro' her pow rful aid,
Part of the Third Ode of the Third Book of
With undiverted aim,
His stubborn honour tame.
The lawless surges wake,
The firmer purpose of his soul
With all its power can shake.
Resume primæval sway,
Obstruct its destin'd way.
The PASSIONS. An One.
First Fear his hand, its skill to try, .
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,
Still would her touch the strain prolong,
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
Revenge impatient rose;
And with a withering look
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat;
Dejected Pity at bis side
Her soul-subduing voice apply'd,
Sad proof of thy distressful state;
With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspirod,