Perfect in all the little Tricks of Love,

That charm the Senfe and the quick Fancy move.
But Fate to Phillis a long Reign deny'd,

She fell in all her blooming Beauty's Pride;

She conquer'd whilft the liv'd, and triumph'd as the dy'd.

VII.

Thou, like fome old Commander in Difgrace,
Surviving the past Conquests of thy Face,
Now the great Bufinefs of thy Life is done,
Review'ft, with Grief, the Trophies thou haft won:
Damn'd to be parch'd with Luft, tho chill'd with Age,
And, tho' paft Action, damn'd to tread the Stage,
That all might laugh to fee that glaring Light,
Which lately fhone fo fierce and bright,

End with a Stink at laft, and vanish into Night.

The xvth "Ode in Herace Lib. 3. Imitated.

A

Uxor pauperis Ibici,

Tandem Nequitia fige Modum tua,
Famofifq; Laboribus, &c.

I..

Tlength, thou antiquated Whore,
Leave Trading off, and fin no more;:

For Shame in your old Age turn Nun,

As Whores of everlasting Memory have done.......

II.

Why fhould'st thou ftill frequent the Sport,
The Balls, and Revels of the Court ?
Or why at glittering Masks appear,
Only to fill the Triumphs of the Fair.

III: To

FII.

To Ghent or Brussels ftrait adjourn,

The Lewdness of your former Life to mourit.
There brawny Priefts in Plenty you may hire,

If Whip and wholefom Sackcloth cannot quench the Fire.

IV.

Your Daughter's for the Business made,
To her, in Confcience, quit the Trade.
Thus, when his conquering Days were done,
Victorious Charles refign'd his Kingdom to his Son.

Alas! ne'er thrum your long difus'à Guittar,
Nor with Pulvilio's fcent your Hair,

But in fome lonely Cell abide,

With Rosary and Pfalter dangling at your Side:

A Translation of Ode xxiii. lib. I. Vitas Hinnuleo me fimilis, Chloë, Quarenti pavidam Montibus aviis Matrem, &c.

WHY

I.

HY Aies Belinda from my Arms?
Or fhuns my kind Embrace?

Why does the hide her blooming Charms ?
And where I come forfake the Place.

II.

Like fome poor Fawn, whom every Breath

Of Ais does fo furprize;

In

In the leaft Wind he fancies Death,

And

pants at each approaching Noife..

HI.

Alas! I never meant thee Ill,

Nor feek I to devour thee;

Why should't thou then with Coldness kill
The dying Slave that does adore thee,

IV.

Leave, leave thy Mother's Arms for Shame
Nor fondly hang about her;

Thou'rt now of Age to play the Game,
And ease a Lover's Pain without her.

The xxvith Qde in Hor. 1. 3. Paraphras'd
Vixi puellis nuper idoneus,

Et militavi non fine Gloria, &c.

I.

TIS true, while active, Blood my Veins did fire,

And vigorous Youth gay Thoughts infpire,
(By your Leave, courteous Reader, be it faid)
I cou'd have don't as well as most Men did;
But now I am (the more's the Pity)
The verieft Fumbler in the City.

II.

There, honeft Harp, that haft of late
So often bore thy finful Master's Fate,
Thou a crack'd Side, and he à broken Pate,
Hang up, and peaceful Reft enjoy;

Hang

Hang up, while poor dejected I,

Unmufical, unftrung like thee, fit mourning by.

III.

And likewife all ye trufty Bars,
With whofe Affiftance heretofore,
When Love engag’d me in his Wars,
I've batter'd, Heaven forgive me, many a Door
Lie there, 'till fome more able Hand
Shall you to your old pious Ufe command.

IV.

But, oh kind Phœbus, lend a pitying Ear
To thy old Servant's humble Prayer;
Let fcornful Chloe thy Refentments feel,
Lash her all o'er with Rods of Steel;
And when the Jilt fhall of her Smart complain,
This 'tis, then tell her, to difdain

Thy facred Power, and fcorn a Lover's Pain

*************************

Hor. Ode 27. 1. I.

Natis in Ufum latitia Scyphis
Pugnare, Thracum eft, &c.

I.

※

O fight in your Cups, and abufe the good Creature, Believe it, my Friends, is a Sin of that Nature, That were you all damn'd, for a tedious long Year, To nafty Mundungus, and heath'nish small Beer, Such as after Debauches your Sparks of the Town, For a Penance next Morning, devoutly pour down, It would not attone for fo vile a Tranfgreflion, You're a Scandal to all of the Drinking Profeflion.

LI. What

II.

What a-pox do ye bellow, and make fuch a Pother,
And throw Candlesticks, Bottles, and Pipes at each other
Come keep the King's Peace, leave your damning and
(finking,

And gravely return to good Chriftian drinking.
He that flinches his Glafs, and to drink is not able,
Let him quarrel no more, but knock under the Table.

Well, Faith, fince you've rais'd my ill Nature so high, I'll drink on no other Condition, not I,

Unless my old Friend in the Corner declares

What Mistress he courts, and whofe Colours he wears:
You may fafely acquaint me, for I'm none of those
That ufe to divulge what's fpoke under the Rose.
Come, part with't... What she forbid it ye Powers,
What unfortunate Planet rul'd o'er thy Amours?
Why, Man, he has lain (Oh thy Fate how I pity !).
With half the blue Breeches and Whigs in the City.

Go thank Mr. Parson, give him Thanks with a Curse,
Oh those damnable Words, For better for worse.

To regain your old Freedom you vainly endeavour,
Your Doxy and You no Prieft can diffever,

You muft dance in the Circle, you must dance in't for

The fame Ode imitated.

Natis in ufum latitia Scyphis, &c.

Eever.

W Hat, Boys, are ye mad? Is the Dutch Devil in ye?

Muft your Quarrels as long as your Glaffes con

[tinue ? Give it o'er, ye dull Sots! let the dull-pated Boors, Snic or free at their Punch-Bowls, or flash for their

[Whores,
We'll