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But does no other lord it at this hour,
Learn to live well, or fairly make your will;
fill. Walk sober off before a sprightlier age Comes tittering on, and shoves you from the stage: Leave such to trifle with more grace than ease, 326. Whom folly pleases, and whose follies please.
BOOK IV. ODE I."
TO VENUS. AGAIN? new túmults in my breast? Ah, spare me, Venus! let me, let me rest! I am not now, alas! the man As in the gentle reign of my queen Anne. Ah! sound no more thy soft alarms, Nor circle sober fifty with thy charms. Mother too fierce of dear desires ! Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires: To number five direct your doves, There spread round Murray all your blooming loves ;
Noble and young, who strikes the heart
BOOK IV. ODE IX.
Lest you should think that verse shall die
Which sounds the silver Thames along, Taught on the wings of truth to fly
Above the reach of vulgar song; Though daring Milton sits sublime,
In Spenser native Muses play; Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
Nor pensive Cowley's moral laySages and chiefs long since had birth
Ere Cæsar was or Newton nam’d; These rais'd new empires o'er the earth,
And those new heav'ns and systems fram'd.
Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride!
DR. JOHN DONNE,
I grant that poetry's a crying sin;
10 Yet like the Papist's is the poet's state, Poor and disarm’d, and hardly worth your hate!
Here a lean bard, whose wit could never give
One sings the fair; but songs no longer move:
These write to lords, some mean reward to get,
Wretched indeed! but far more wretched yet
Tis chaug'd, no doubt, from what it was before; His rank digestion makes it wit no more: Sense pass'd through him no longer is the same; For food digested takes another name.
I pass o'er all those confessors and martyrs, 35 Who live like S-tn, or who die like Chartres. Outcant old Esdras, or outdrink his heir, Out-usure Jews, or Irishmen out-swear; Wicked as pages, who in early years Act sins which Prisca's confessor scarce hears. 40 Ev'n those I pardon, for whose sinful sake Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make; Of whose strange crimes no canonist can tell In what commandment's large contents they dwell,
One, one man only breeds my just offence, 45 Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave impuTime, that at last matures a clap to px, [dence ; Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox, And brings all natural events to pass, Hath inade him an attorney of an ass. No young divine, new benefic'd, can be More pert, more proud, more positive than he. What further could I wish the fop to do But turn a wit, and scribble verses too? Pierce the soft lab'rinth of a lady's ear
55 With rhymes of this per cent, and that per year? Or court a wife, spread out his wily parts, Like nets, or line-twigs for rich widow's hearts; Call himself barrister to ev'ry wench, i And woo in language of the Pleas and Bench? 60 Language which Boreas might to Auster hold, More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
Curs'd be the wretch, so venal and so vain, Paltry and proud as drabs in Drury-Lane. 'Tis such a bounty as was never known, If Peter deigns to help you to your own: What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies! And what a solemn face if he denies! Grave as when pris'ners shake the head, and swear 'Twas only suretyship that brought 'em there. 70