IV. L O D E ON THE UNCERTAINTY OF FORTUNE. A TRANSLATION. EAVE off unfit complaints, and clear From fighs your breaft, and from black clouds When the fun shines not with his wonted cheer, The That fea which vext with Notus is, merry Eaft-winds will to-morrow kiss. The fun to-day rides drowfily, To-morrow 'twill put on a look more fair: That good fare fhould with mingled dangers flow. Doth now over the noblest Romans reign, The yoke which from his oxen he had ta'en: If Fortune knit amongst her play But seriousness, he shall again go home And And with the crowned axe, which he Had rul'd the world, go back and prune some tree; Nay, if he want the fuel cold requires, With his own fafces he fhall make him fires. IN COMMENDATION OF THE TIME WE LIVE UNDER, THE REIGN OF OUR GRACIOUS KING CHARLES. CURS URST be that wretch (death's factor fure) who Dire fwords into the peaceful world, and taught The spade, the plow-fhare, and the rake) Man's life t' epitomize! Then men (fond men, alas!) ride post to th' grave, And cut those threads which yet the Fates would fave Then Charon fweated at his trade, And had a larger ferry made; Then, then the filver hair, Frequent before, grew rare, Then Revenge, married to Ambition, To men, before, was found, In what plain, or what river, hath not been With blood's lofs paler grew. Such griefs, nay worse than these, we now fhould feel, He to our land bleft Peace doth bring, Unborn till Charles's reign! Where, dreaming chemicks! is your pain and cost? Our Charles, bleft alchemift! (though ftrange, The iron-age of old ODE VI. UPON THE SHORTNESS OF MAN'S LIFE. M ARK that fwift arrow! how it cuts the air, If thou canst call it back, or stay it there. Fool! Fool! 'tis thy life, and the fond archer thou. I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday, Befides repentance, what canst find Our life is carried with too ftrong a tide; Each day doth on a winged whirlwind ride. But his past life who without grief can see; That man extends life's natural brevity- AN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO CAMBRIDGE. YICHOLS, my better felf! forbear; N For, if thou tell'ft what Cambridge pleasures are, I fhall, in mind at least, a truant be. Tell me not how you feed your mind In Ovid's nut 1 fhall not find O tell me not of logick's diverse cheer! Tell me not how the waves appear I fhall contemn the troubled Thames And graces with fresh paint that day; Why do I ftay then? I would meet 'Tis Thee thère, but plummets hang upon my feet; Till then, we 'll fcorn to let that toy, Friendship and wit, thy better parts. Though envious Fortune larger hindrance brings, MISCEL |