The changing year's fucceffive plan
Proclaims mortality to man
Rough winter's blasts to spring give way,
Spring yields to fummer's fov'reign ray;
Then fummer finks in autumn's reign,
And winter chills the world again;
Her loffes foon the moon fupplies,
But wretched man, when once he lies,
Where Priam and his fons are laid,
Is nought but ashes and a fhade.
Who knows if Jove, who counts our score,
Will tofs us in a morning more?
What with your friend you nobly share
rescue from your heir.
Not you, Torquatus, boaft of Rome,
When Minos once has fix'd
your doom, Or eloquence, or fplendid birth,
Or virtue, fhall reftore to earth.
Hippolytus, unjustly flain,
Diana calls to life in vain ;
Nor can the might of Thefeus rend
The chains of Hell that hold his friend.
The following TRANSLATIONS, PARODIES, and BURLESQUE VERSES, most of them extempore, are taken from ANECDOTES of Dr. JOHNSON, publifhed by Mrs. PIOZZI.
ANACREON, ODE IX.
LOVELY courier of the sky,
Whence and whither doft thou fly?
Scatt'ring, as thy pinions play,
Liquid fragrance all the way:
Is it bufinefs? is it love?
Tell me, tell me, gentle dove.
Soft Anacreon's vows I bear,
Vows to Myrtale the fair;
Grac'd with all that charms the heart,
Blushing nature, fmiling art.
Venus, courted by an ode,
On the bard her dove beftow'd:
Vested with a mafter's right,
Now Anacreon rules my flight;
His the letters that you fee,
Weighty charge, confign'd to me:
Think not yet my service hard,
Jaylefs talk without reward;
my mafter's gates,
Freedom my return awaits;
But the lib'ral grant in vain
Tempts me to be wild again.
Can a prudent dove decline
Blissful bondage fuch as mine?
Over hills and fields to roam,
Fortune's gueft without a home;
Under leaves to hide one's head,
Slightly fhelter'd, coarsely fed:
Now my
better lot beftows.
Sweet repast, and soft repose;
Now the gen'rous bowl I fip
As it leaves Anacreon's lip:
Void of care, and free from dread,
From his fingers fnatch his bread
Then, with luscious plenty gay,
Round his chamber dance and play;
Or from wine, as courage fprings,
O'er his face extend my wings;
And when feaft and frolic tire,
Drop afleep upon his lyre.
This is all, be quick and go,
More than all thou canst not know;
Let me now my pinions ply,
I have chatter'd like a pye,
LINES written in ridicule of certain Poems:
published in 1777.
WHERESOE'ER I turn my view,
All is ftrange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that time hath flung away,
Uncouth words in difarray,
Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode, and elegy, and fonnet.
PARODY of a TRANSLATION from the MEDEA of EURIPIDES.
ERR fhall they not, who refolute explore
Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes;
And, fcanning right the practices of yore,
Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwife.
They to the dome where Smoke with curling play
Announc'd the dinner to the regions round,
Summon'd the finger blythe, and harper gay,
And aided wine with dulcet-ftreaming found.
The better use of notes, or sweet or fhrill,
By quiv'ring ftring or modulated wind;
Trumpet or lyre-to their harsh bofoms chill
Admiffion ne'er had fought, or could not find.
Oh! fend them to the fullen manfions dun,
Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around;
Where gloom-enamour'd Mischief loves to dwell,
And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, fchemes the
wound.
When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish,
And purple nectar glads the feftive hour;
The guest, without a want, without a wish,
Can yield no room to mufick's foothing pow'r.
TRANSLATION of the Two First Stanzas
of the Song "Rio verde, Rio verde," printed in Bishop PERCY'S Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. An IMPROMPTU.
GLASSY water, glaffy water,
Down whofe current, clear and ftrong,.
Chiefs confus'd in mutual flaughter,
Moor and Chriftian roll along.
IMITATION of the Style of ****
HERMIT hoar, in solemn cell
Wearing out life's evening grey,
Strike thy bofom, fage, and tell
What is blifs, and which the way.
Thus I fpoke, and fpeaking figh'd,
Scarce reprefs'd the ftarting tear,
When the hoary fage reply'd,
Come, my lad, and drink fome beer.
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