Smoking with hecatombs of slaughter'd bulls;
As Carnus, thy high-priest and favour'd friend,
Had erst ordain'd; and with mysterious rites
Our great forefathers taught their sons to worship
Iö Carnean Phoebus! Iö Pæan!
The yellow crocus there, and fair narcissus,
Reserve the honours of their winter store
To deck thy temple, till returning spring
Diffuses Nature's various pride, and flowers
Innumerable, by the soft south-west
Open'd, and gather'd by religious hands, [ment.
Rebound their sweets from the' odoriferous pave-
Perpetual fires shine hallow'd on thy altars,
When annual the Carnean feast is held:
The warlike Lybians, clad in armour, lead
The dance, with clanging swords and shields they
The dreadful measure: in the chorus join [beat
Their women brown, but beautiful; such rites
To thee well-pleasing. Nor had yet thy votaries,
From Greece transplanted, touch'd Cyrene's banks,
And lands determined for their last abodes;
But wander'd through Azilis' horrid forest
Dispersed when from Myrtusa's craggy brow,
Fond of the maid, auspicious to the city,
Which must hereafter bear her favour'd name,
Thou gracious deign'st to let the fair-one view
Her typic people: thou with pleasure taught'st her
To draw the bow, to slay the shaggy lion,
And stop the spreading ruin of the plains.
Happy the nymph, who, honour'd by thy passion,
Was aided by thy power. The monstrous Python
Durst tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell,
To thy great strength and golden arms unequal.
Iö! while thy unerring hand elanced
Another, and another dart; the people
Joyful repeated, Iö! Iö Pæan!
Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety
And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee.
Envy, thy latest foe, suggested thus:
'Like thee I am a power immortal, therefore
To thee dare speak. How canst thou favour partial
Those poets who write little? Vast and great
Is what I love: the far-extended ocean
To a small rivulet I prefer.' Apollo
Spurn'd Envy with his foot, and thus the god:
Dæmon, the head-long current of Euphrates,
Assyrian river, copious runs, but muddy;
And carries forward, with his stupid force,
Polluting dirt; his torrent still augmenting,
His wave still more defiled: meanwhile the nymphs
Melissan, sacred and recluse to Ceres,
Studious to have their offerings well received,
And fit for heavenly use, from little urns
Pours streams select, and purity of waters.
Iö! Apollo, mighty king, let Envy
Ill-judging and verbose, from Lethe's lake
Draw tuns unmeasurable; while thy favour
Administers to my ambitious thirst
The wholesome draught from Aganippe's spring
Genuine, and with soft murmurs gently rilling
Adown the mountains where thy daughters haunt.
PALLAS AND VENUS.
THE Trojan swain had judged the great dispute,
And Beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit,
When Venus, loose in all her naked charms,
Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms:
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said-
Yield, sister; rival, yield: naked, you see
I vanquish guess how potent I should be,
If to the field I came in armour dress'd; [crest.'
Dreadful, like thine, my shield, and terrible my
The warrior-goddess with disdain replied:
Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride:
Let a brave enemy for once advise;
And Venus, if 'tis possible, be wise.
Thou to be strong must put off every dress;
Thy only armour is thy nakedness:
And more than once (or thou art much belied)
By Mars himself that armour has been tried.'
PARTIAL FAME.
THE sturdy man, if he in love obtains,
In open pomp and triumph reigns:
The subtle woman, if she should succeed,
Disowns the honour of the deed.
Though he, for all his boast, is forced to yield,
Though she can always keep the field;
He vaunts his conquest, she conceals her shame :
How partial is the voice of Fame !
WHILST I am scorch'd with hot desire,
In vain cold friendship you return;
Your drops of pity on my fire,
Alas! but make it fiercer burn.
Ah! would you have the flame suppress'd,
That kills the heart it heats too fast,
Take half my passion to your breast;
The rest in mine shall ever last.
I STOOD, sir, patient at your feet,
Before your elbow-chair;
But make a bishop's throne your seat,
I'll kneel before you there.
1 This epigram is printed from a pamphlet published in 1751, entitled, The friendly and honest Advice of an old Tory to the Vice Chancellor of Cambridge,' Svo. from whence also is extracted the following account of the occasion which gave birth to it. In the year 1712, my old friend Matthew Prior, who was then Fellow of St. John's, and who not long before had been employed by the Queen as her plenipotentiary at the court of France, came to Cambridge; and the next morning paid a visit to the master of his own college. The master loved Mr. Prior's principles, had a great opinion of his abilities, and a respect for his character in the world;
One only thing can keep you down,
For your great soul too mean;
You'd not, to mount a bishop's throne,
Pay homage to the Queen.
WHEN Nell, given o'er by the doctor, was dying,
And John at the chimney stood decently crying;
"Tis in vain, (said the woman) to make such ado,
For to our long home we must all of us go!'
True, Nell, (replied John) but, what yet is the
For us that remain, the best always go first: Remember, dear wife, that I said so last year, When you lost your white heifer, and I my brown
WHEN Bibo thought fit from the world to retreat, As full of champagne as an egg's full of meat, He waked in the boat; and to Charon he said, He would be row'd back, for he was not yet dead. "Trim the boat, and sit quiet, (stern Charon replied) You may have forgot, you were drunk when you died.'
but then he had a much greater respect for himself. therefore kept his seat himself, and let the queen's ambassador stand, who immediately on his return wrote the above epigram.'
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