English

FOR THE NEW YEAR 1707.

I.

Begin, celestial Source of light!
To gild the new-revolving sphere,
And from the pregnant womb of Night
Urge on to birth the infant year.
Rich with auspicious lustre rise,
Thou fairest regent of the skies!
Conspicuous with thy silver bow:
To thee, a god, 't was giv'n by Jove
To rule the radiant orbs above,
To Gloriana this below.

II.

With joy renew thy destin'd race,
And let the mighty months begin;
Let no ill omen cloud thy face;

WITH THE POEMS OF MR. WALLER .

Let others boast the Nine Aonian maids,
Inspiring streams, and sweet resounding shades,
Where Phaebus heard the rival bards rehearse,
And bade the laurels learn the lofty verse:
In vain! nor Phaebus nor the boasted Nine
Inflame the raptur'd soul with rays divine:
None but the fair infuse the sacred fire,
And love with vocal art informs the lyre.
When Waller, kindling with celestial rage,
View'd the bright Harley of that wond'ring age,

Now swift upon the wings of Fame,
The dismal news triumphant came,
And round the fatal rumour spread,
That ev'ry Dog must lose his head.
Yet now, as Mercy still entreated,
Ere Policy her work compleated,
She summon'd ev'ry dog of sport,
Of pride, or profit, into court,
And call'd the miscreants to produce
Their names, their quality, and use;
Resolv'd no quarter to afford,
To such as paid not for their board,
But banish ev'ry worthless hound
To some dark corner under ground.—

Which prevented the Author returning to School at the expiration of the Christmas Holydays.

I ne'er did hail thy orient red,
Sol, when thou leav'st thy eastern bed,
And o'er the world thy glories spread,
and radiant power,
As when thou'st earth-drawn vapours shed
in heavy shower!

II.

And oft I upward cast mine eyes,
(Tho' not I ween o'er weather-wise)
And gladsome view the frowning skies;
while screaming crow
Proclaims the storm as high he flies,
to us below!

III.

I.

Snowy gem of the earth, whose fair modest head,
 Droops beneath the chill sigh of hoar winter's cold breath;
Snowy gem of the earth, on thy pure sunless bed,
 I carelessly, nearly, had crush'd thee to death.

II.

And alas! I have torn thee, thou sweet snowy gem,
 From the young kindred tendrils thou lov'st to entwine
And have torn thee, alas! from thy fair parent stem,
 To my still glowing bosom thy charms to consign.

III.

But if from thy pure snowy bed I have snatch'd thee,

I.

The air is fill'd with shouts, and trumpets' sounding;
A host are at thy gates, Jerusalem.
Now is their van the Mount of Olives rounding;
Above them Judah's lion-banners gleam,
Twined with the palm and olives' peaceful stem.
Now swell the nearer sounds of voice and string,
As down the hill-side pours the living stream;
And to the cloudless heaven Hosannas ring —
" The Son of David comes! — the Conqueror — the King! "

II.

The cuirass'd Roman heard; and grasp'd his shield,

The sparkes of loue within my brest, doe daylie so increase,
That euery vain on fyre is set, which none but thou mayst cease.
So that in thee consists my woe, in thee likewise my wealth,
In thee with speede to hast my death, in thee to giue me health,
O pittie then his restlesse state, that yeeldes him to thy will,
Sithe loe in thee it wholy lyes, my life to saue or spill.
That neyther doe I glose or faine, I I OVE to witnesse call,
Who knows the heat of fired harts, when they to loue are thrall.

Nymph of the mountains! blooming maid,
Whose blush no midnight revels fade,
With sandal'd leg and bosom bare,
Dew pearls glitt'ring on thy hair!
Thy brow with Alpine myrtle crown'd,
Thy waist with laurel cestus bound;
Thy limbs elastic, scarce conceal'd,
Or with thy robe transparent veil'd,
And like the rose 'midst new-fall'n snow,
Thro' thy aerial drap'ry glow!
Thy lips with honey wild imbued,
Thine eye with tear of rapture dew'd,
Thy cheeks embrown'd, yet soft disclose
The blushes of the op'ning rose!

AN IMITATION OF A GREEK EPIGRAM IN HOMER

When PhÅ?bus and the Nine harmonious maids
Of old assembled in the Thespian shades,
— What theme, — they cry'd, — what high immortal air,
— Besits these harps to sound, and thee to hear? —
Reply'd the god, — Your loftiest notes employ
— To sing young Peleus and the fall of Troy. —
The wondrous song with rapture they rehearse,
Then ask who wrought that miracle of verse.
He answer'd with a srown; — I now reveal
— A truth that Envy bids me not conceal.

Maye name of seruaunt, to familier seeme,
For such whose seruice neuer swarude away?
Can Noble mindes so base of those esteeme,
That freely yeelde for them to liue or dye?
No, no, some further fetche conceyued is,
Which hath withdrawne from me that wonted name:
How so it be, if I be more amisse,
Then sounde good will hath once desarued blame.
The wrekfull Gods powre downe vpon my hed,
Such sharpe reuenge as neuer man did feele:
And let my Ghost in L YMBO lowe be led,
To T ANTALS thyrst, or prowde I XIONS wheele.