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Would thoù engage the gods peculiar care ?
O Hercules, th' immortal pow'rs adore !
Attend their altars, and their aid implore.
Loy'd as her father, as her god ador'd?
Her voice in council, in the fight her sword : In peace, in war, pursue thy country's good ; For her bare thy bold breast, and pour thy generous blood.
Wouldst thou, to quell the proud and lift the oppreft,
In arts of war and matchless strength excel? First conquer thou thyself: to ease, to reft,
To each foft thought of pleasure, bid farewela. The night alternate, due to sweet repose,
In watches waste : in painful march, the day :: Congeald amidst the rigorous winter's snows,
Scorch'd by the summer's thirf-inflaming ray. Thy hardeu'd limbs shall boast fuperior might : Vigour shall brace thine arm, resifless in the fight."
«6. Hear'it thou what monsters then thou must engage ?
What dangers, gentle youth, she bids thee prove ?" (Abrupe says Sloth)—- III fit thy tender age Tumult and wars, fit age for joy and love.
Turn, gentle youth, to me, to love, and joy !
To these I lead': no monsters here shall stay Thine easy course ; no cares thy peace 'annoy ;
I lead to bliss a nearer, fmoother way : Short is my way, fair, easy, smooth, and plain : Turn, gentle youth-with me eternal pleasures reign."
" What pleasures, vain mistaken wretch, are thine ?"
(Virtue with scorn replied) " who fleep'it in cafe Insensate'; whose soft limbs the toil decline
That seasons blifs, and makes enjoyment please : Draining the copious bowl ete thirst require :
Feasting ere hunger to the feaft invite; Whose taltelefs joys anticipate desire,
Whom luxury supplies wirh appetite' ; Yet nature loaths, and you employ in vain Variety and art to conquer her disdain.
The sparkling ncclar, cool'd with summer snows..
The dainty board with choicest viands spread.. To thee are taseless 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 lengthens out the day.
From bounteous nature's unexhausted stores.
Flows the pure fountain of fincere delights : Averse to her, you waste the joyless hours ;
Sleep drowns thy days, and riot rules thy nights Immortal tho' thou art, indignant Jove
Hurld thee from heaven, th’immortals blissful place, For ever banish'd from the realms above,
To dwell on earth with man's degenrate race :
Fond wretch, that vainly weenest all delight
To gratify the fense, reserv'd for thee! Yet the molt pleasing object to the fight,
Thine own fair action, never didft thou fee..
Soft music, warbling voices, melting lays ;
Charming the soul, thou ne'er didft hear thy praise !
of cares ;
Vast happinefs enjoy thy gay allies !
A youth of follies, an old age
Vice wastes their vigour, and their mind impairs.
Vain, idle, delicate, in shoughtless 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 alham’d, They live and are despis’d; they die, nor more are nam’d.
But with the gods, and godlike men, I dwell ;
Me, his supreme delight, th’Almighty Sire Regards well-pleasid : whatever works excel,
All, or divine or human, I inspire, Counsel with strength, and industry with art,
In union meet conjoin'd, with me reside : My dictates arm, instruét, and mend the heart,
The fureft policy, the wiseft guide. With me true friend hip dwells : fhe deigns to bind Those generous fouls alone, who:n I before have join’d.
Nor need my friends the various collly fealt;
Hunger to them th' effects of art supplies ; Labour
prepares their weary limbs to rest ; Sweet is their sleep; light, chearful, strong they rise. Thro' health, thro' joy, thro' pleasure, and renown
They tread my paths; and by a soft descent,
Look back with transport on a life well spent;
And when, the destin d term at lengths complete,
Their ashes rest in peace, eternal fame
In sacred song for ever lives their name.
My voice, and live: let thy celestial birth
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 difpellid,
Thro’ all her fraud ful arts, in clearest light, Sloth in her native form he now beheld ;
Unveil'd lhe flood confefs'd before his fight : False Siren! Ill her vaunted charms, that shone So fresh erewhile and fair, now wither'd, pale, and gone.
No more the rosy bloom in sweet disguise
grace Leaves her wan check; pale fickness clouds her
eyes Livid and funk, and pallions dim her face.