For below

Ere they go,

Sits one in judgment, who pronounces right
On crimes in this wide realm of Jove;

Whofe dire decree no power can e'er remove:

STROPHE IV. Measures 16.

But the good, alike by night,

Alike by day, the fun's unclouded light
Beholding, ever bless'd,

Live an unlaborious life,

Nor anxious interrupt their hallow'd reft

With fpade and plow,

12.5

130

Who never broke the vow they swore,
A tearless age enjoy for ever-more;
While the wicked hence depart

To torments which appall the heart:

ANTISTROPHE IV. Measures 16.

But the fouls who greatly dare,

Thrice try'd in either state, to perfevere

From all injustice pure,

Journeying onward in the way

Of Jupiter, in virtue ftill fecure,

Along his road

Arrive at Saturn's rais'd abode;

140.

145

Where

Where foft fea-breezes breathe

Round the island of the blefs'd; where gay
The trees with golden blossoms glow;

Where, their brows and arms to wreathe,
Bright garlands on every fide below;

For, fpringing thick in every field,

The earth does golden flowers fpontaneous yield;
And, in every limpid stream,

The budding gold is feen to gleam:

150

156

EPODE IV. Meafures 10.

Fair heritage by righteous Rhadamanth's award;

Who, coëqual, takes his feat

With Saturn, fire divine,

Thy confort, Rhea, who above the reft doth shine,

High thron'd, thou matron-goddess great:

These among

(Blissful throng!)

Does Peleus and does Cadmus find regard;
And, through his mother's winning prayer
To Jove, Achilles dwells immortal there :
STROPHE V.

He who Hector did destroy,

Measures 16.

The pillar firm, the whole fupport, of Troy,

And Cycnus gave to die,

And Aurora's Æthiop fon.

My arm beneath yet many darts have I,

All fwift of flight,

Within my quiver, founding right

To every skilful ear:

But, of the multitude, not one

160

165

170

175

Difcerns

Difcerns the mystery unexplain'd.

He tranfcendent does appear

In knowledge, from Nature who gain'd
His store but the dull-letter'd croud,

180

In cenfure vehement, in nonsense loud,
Clamour idly, wanting skill,

Like crows, in vain, provoking still

ANTIS TROPHE V. Measures 16.

The celestial bird of Jove :*

But, to the mark addrefs thy bow, nor rove,

185

That through an hundred circling years,
With recorded worthies bright,

No rivaling city appears

To boast a man more frank to impart

Kind offices to friends with open heart,
Or, with hand amidst his ftore,

Delighting to distribute more

EPODE V. Measures 10.

Than Theron yet foul calumny, injurious blame,
Did the men of rancour raise

Against his fair renown,

Defamers who by evil actions ftrove to drown

His good, and to conceal his praise.

395

200

Can the fand,

205

On the ftrand,

Be number'd o'er? Then, true to Theron's fame,

His favours fhowering down delight

On thousands who is able to recite?

THE FIRST ODE OF ANACREON.

T

Ο Ν HIS LUT E.

HE line of Atreus will I fing;

To Cadmus will I tune the ftring:
But, as from ftring to ftring I move,
My lute will only found of Love.

The chords I change through every screw,
And model the whole lute anew.

Once more, in fong, my voice I raise,
And, Hercules, thy toils I praise :
My lute does still my voice deny,
And in the tones of love reply.

Ye heroes then, at once farewel :

Loves only echo from my fhell.

THE SECOND O D E.

ON

WOMEN.

ATURE the bull with horns fupplies,

NA

The horfe with hoofs fhe fortifies, The fleeting foot on harcs bestows,

On lions teeth, two dreadful rows!

12

4 Grants

Grants fish to fwim, and birds to fly,
And on their skill bids men rely.
Women alone defenceless live,
To women what does Nature give?
Beauty fhe gives inftead of darts,
Beauty, instead of shields, imparts;
Nor can the fword, nor fire, oppose
The fair, victorious where she goes.

THE

THIRD

O D E.

O N

LOVE.

Ο

NE midnight when the bear did stand

A-level with Böotes' hand,

And, with their labour fore opprefs'd,
The race of men were laid to reft,
Then to my doors, at unawares,

Came Love, and tried to force the bars.
Who thus affails my doors, I cry'd ?

Who breaks my flumbers? Love reply'd,
Open: a child alone is here!

Here through the moonless night I stray,
And, drench'd in rain, have lost my way.

Then mov'd to pity by his plight,
Too much in hafte my lamp I light,
And open when a child I fee,
A little child, he seem'd to me;

Who bore a quiver, and a bow;
And wings did to his fhoulders grow.

T2

:8

12

16

'Within