By Dr. FRANCIS ATTERBURY, late Lord Bishop of ROCHESTER.
HE, on whofe Birth the Lyric Queen
Of Numbers fmil'd, fhall never grace
The Ifthmian Gauntlet, or be feen
First in the fam❜d Olympic Race.
He shall not, after Toils of War,
And humbling haughty Monarchs Pride,
With laurell'd Brows confpicuous far,
To Jove's Tarpeïan Temple ride.
But Him the Streams, that warbling flow
Rich Tibur's fertile Meads along,
And fhady Groves, his Haunts, fhall know
The Mafter of th' Eolian Song.
The Sons of Rome, majestic Rome!
Have plac'd me in the Poets Choir,
And Envy now, or dead, or dumb,
Forbears to blame what they admire.
Goddess of the fweet-founding Lute,
Which thy harmonious Touch obeys,
Who can'ft the finny Race, though mute,
To Cygnets dying Accents raife;
Thy Gift it is, that all with Ease
Me Prince of Roman Lyrics own;
That, while I live, my Numbers please,
If pleasing, is thy Gift alone!
For Scaliger's Opinion of this Ode, fee the Notes on Ode 9. B. III.
By a Fellow of a College.
HOE'ER, to ftudious Leifure train'd,
Has once a FELLOWSHIP obtain'd,
In Granta's learn'd Retreat,
No more with Syllogiftic Cares
Perplex'd, at Dinner and at Prayers
Affumes a loftier Seat.
No more he echoes in the Hall,
With loud declamatory Brawl,
The Fame of Rome and Greece,
And crowns with a triumphal Car
Returning Heroes, great in War,
And amiable in Peace.
Now with his Brethren view him roll,
With many a Shrug, the winding Bow!
Along the level Green;
Now, unreftrain'd, behold him rove
On Cam's fair Borders, through the Grove,
Where Scholars ne'er are feen.
When feven long Years are now complete,
He in the Senate takes his Seat
Each Congregation-Day;
And envies no applauded Wits,
While there on equal Terms he fits
By Mafon, Hurd, and Gray.
By thy bleft Aid, O powerful + Grace !
The Sons of Lords obtain a Place
Among the Sons of Art;
Thou point'ft a ready Way to Fame,
And ev❜n to Dukes the facred Name
Of Doctors can't impart!
From thee our Votes and Voices flow,
To thee the filken Hoods we owe
That float adown our Shoulders;
By thee, on feftal Days, the Gown
Of Scarlet charms the gaping Town,
And dazzles all Beholders.
Though thou haft oft beftow'd Rewards
On Statesmen, Sages, Peers and Bards,
And crown'd their high Deferts;
Yet wond'ring Strangers ftare to see
Full many a Blockhead made by thee
A MASTER OF THE ARTS.
*Every College confifts of a Mafter, Fellows, and Scholars.
A Grace is an Act of the Senate, conferring Degrees, &c.
ODE
The Praifes of DRUSUS and TIBERIUS. By GEORGE JEFFREYS, Efq;
S Jove's imperial Bird, to whom the Sway
O'er all the feather'd Race was given,
(For fo did he his faithful Favourite pay,
For wafting Ganymed to Heaven)
With native Vigour join'd to youthful Prime,
Springs from the Neft, though check'd by Fear,
Unwonted Heights with tender Wing to climb,
2 The Sky when Summer Breezes clear !
With hostile Rage the Spoiler next defcends,
Impetuous, on the bleating Fold;
Thence, more affur'd, reluctant Dragons rends,
With Love of Prey and Combat bold :
Or as a Kid, on Paftures fair to graze
Intent, the Lion's Progeny,
Wean'd from his yellow Mother's Milk, furveys;
By Fangs in Slaughter new, to die;
3 Such Drufus the Vindelici beheld
Beneath the Alps, unmatch'd in War! And, by a fage and youthful Leader quell'd, The Troops, victorious long and fax, Prov'd what a Genius and a Mind could dare, By Precept and Example taught ;
And what, Auguftus! thy s Paternal Care
In either Nero's Bloom has wrought.
The Brave beget the Brave: The Bull, the Steed,
Are stamp'd upon their generous Race;
Nor is the Dove's unwarlike Brood decreed
The Royal Eagle to disgrace.
But Culture calls the hidden Vigour forth,
And Virtue, when on Learning built,
Confirms the Heart: In Blood, devoid of Worth,
The conscious Shame enhances Guilt.
What Rome her 7 Neros owes, let Afdrubal
Be Witness, that decifive Day,
The first, that near Metaurus by his Fall
From Latium chas'd the Night away :
When the dire African to Mars, among
Th' Italian Cities gave the Rein,
Impetuous as the Flame, that runs along
The Pines, or Eurus o'er the Main.
From that bright Dawn the Roman Youth sustain'd,
With better Fate, the Toils of Fight;
And the fad Shrines, by Punic Foes profan'd,
Now found their Guardian Gods upright.
When Hannibal at length defponding spoke :
• Like Stags, the Prey of Wolves, are We,
And rafhly to the Fight fuch Foes provoke,
As to elude were Victory.
The Warrior Race, who to the Latian Coaft,
From Ilium funk in Grecian Fires,
Convey'd their Gods, on Tuscan Billows toft,
Their Offspring and their aged Sires,
|