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Lov'st thou yon calm and filent flood,
That never ebbs, that never flows;
Protected by the circling wood

From each tempeftuous wind that blows?

An altar on its bank fhall rife,

Where oft thy votary shall be found; What time pale Autumn lulls the skies, And fickening verdure fades around.

Ye bufy race, ye factious train,

That haunt Ambition's guilty shrine No more perplex the world in vain,

But offer here your vows with mine.

And thou, puiffant Queen be kind : - If e'er I fhar'd thy balmy pow'r; If e'er I fway'd my active mind,

To weave for Thee the rural bow'r;

Diffolve in fleep each anxious care;
Each unavailing figh remove;

And only let me wake to share

;

The sweets of Friendship and of Love.

ODE

1

ODE to HEALTH, 1730.

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By the Same.

HEALTH, capricious maid!

Why doft thou fhun my peaceful bow'r,

Where I had hope to share thy pow'r,

And bless thy lafting aid?

Since thou, alas! art flown,

It'vails not whether Mufe or Grace,
With tempting fmile, frequent the place :
I figh for thee alone.

Age not forbids thy ftay;

Thou yet might'st act the friendly part;
Thou yet might'ft raife this languid heart;
Why speed fo fwift away?

Thou fcorn'ft the city-air;

I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground,
Yet haft not thou my wishes crown'd,

O falfe! O partial fair!

B2

33

I plunge

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There was, there was a time,
When tho' I fcorn'd thy guardian care,
Nor made a vow, nor faid a pray'r

I did not rue the crime.

Who

Who then more bleft than me?

When the glad school-boy's tafk was done,
And forth, with jocund fprite, I run
To freedom, and to glee!

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How jovial then the day!

What fince have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,
That can thy loss repay?

Wert thou, alas! but kind,

Methinks no frown that Fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes, nor growing cares,
Could fink my chearful mind.

Whate'er my stars include;
What other breafts convert to pain,
My towering mind fhould foon difdain,
Should fcorn-Ingratitude!

Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none their fairer dome,
How pleas'd my foul should dwell!

Temperance fhould guard the doors; From room to room should Memory firay,

And, ranging all in neat array,

Enjoy her pleafing ftores

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'There

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H! what is Science, what is Art,

A or what the pleafure thefe impart ?

Or

Ye trophies which the Learn'd purfue
Through endless fruitlefs toils, adieu !

What can the tedious tomes bestow,
To foothe the miseries they show?
What, like the blifs for him decreed,
Who tends his flock, and tunes his reed!

Say, wretched Fancy! thus refin'd
From all that glads the fimpleft hind,
How rare that object, which fupplies
A charm for too difcerning eyes!

The

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