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FAC SIMILES OF DR JOHNSON'S HAND WRITING

After your

When at School in his 16th Year

death, the lavish heir

Will quickly drive away

his wo9.

The who you kept with so much card

you

Along the marble floor shall flow

Sam

довитра

Ver.2-1784

He gave my flocks to graze the flowery meads,
And me to tune at ease th' unequal reeds.

MELIBUS.

My admiration only I exprest,

(No spark of envy harbours in my breast) That, when confusion o'er the country reigns, alone this happy state remains.

To you

Here I, though faint myself, must drive my goats,
Far from their ancient fields and humble cots.
This scarce I lead, who left on yonder rock
Two tender kids, the hopes of all the flock.
Had we not been perverse and careless grown,
This dire event by omens was foreshown;

Our trees were blasted by the thunder stroke,
And left-hand crows, from an old hollow oak,
Foretold the coming evil by their dismal croak.

Translation of HORACE. Book 1. Ode xxii.

THE man, my friend, whose conscious heart
With virtue's sacred ardour glows,
Nor taints with death the envenom'd dart,
Nor needs the guard of Moorish bows :

Though Scythia's icy cliffs he treads,
Or horrid Africk's faithless sands;
Or where the famed Hydaspes spreads
His liquid wealth o'er barbarous lands.

For while by Chloe's image charm'd,
Too far in Sabine woods I stray'd;
Me singing, careless and unarm'd,
A grisly wolf surprised, and fled.

No savage more portentous stain'd
Apulia's spacious wilds with gore;
No fiercer Juba's thirsty land,
Dire nurse of raging lions, bore.

VOL. I.

D

Place me where no soft summer gale
Among the quivering branches sighs;
Where clouds condensed for ever veil

With horrid gloom the frowning skies:

Place me beneath the burning line,
A clime denied to human race;
I'll sing of Chloe's charms divine,
Her heavenly voice, and beauteous face.

Translation of HORACE. Book II. Ode ix.

CLOUDS do not always veil the skies,

Nor showers immerse the verdant plain; Nor do the billows always rise,

Or storms afflict the ruffled main :

Nor, Valgius, on the Armenian shores
Do the chain'd waters always freeze;
Not always furious Boreas roars,

Or bends with violent force the trees.

But you are ever drown'd in tears,
For Mystes dead you ever mourn;
No setting Sol can ease your cares,
But finds you sad at his return.

The wise experienced Grecian sage
Mourn'd not Antilochus so long;
Nor did King Priam's hoary age

So much lament his slaughter'd son.

Leave off, at length, these woman's sighs;
Augustus' numerous trophies, sing;

Repeat that prince's victories,

To whom all nations tribute bring.

Niphates rolls an humbler wave;

At length the undaunted Scythian yields,
Content to live the Romans' slave,

And scarce forsakes his native fields.

Translation of part of the Dialogue between HECTOR and
ANDROMACHE; from the Sixth Book of HOMER'S ILIAD.

SHE ceased; then godlike Hector answer'd kind,
(His various plumage sporting in the wind)
That post, and all the rest, shall be my care;
But shall I, then, forsake the unfinish'd war?
How would the Trojans brand great Hector's name!
And one base action sully all my fame,

Acquired by wounds and battles bravely fought!
O, how my soul abhors so mean a thought!
Long since I learn'd to slight this fleeting breath,
And view with cheerful eyes approaching death.
The inexorable sisters have decreed

That Priam's house, and Priam's self shall bleed:
The day will come, in which proud Troy shall yield,
And spread its smoking ruins o'er the field.
Yet Hecuba's nor Priam's hoary age,

Whose blood shall quench some Grecian's thirsty rage,
Nor my brave brothers, that have bit the ground,
Their souls dismiss'd through many a ghastly wound,
Can in my bosom half that grief create,

As the sad thought of your impending fate :
When some proud Grecian dame shall tasks impose,
Mimick your tears, and ridicule your woes;
Beneath Hyperia's waters shall you sweat,
And, fainting, scarce support the liquid weight:
Then shall some Argive loud insulting cry,
Behold the wife of Hector, guard of Troy !
Tears, at my name, shall drown those beauteous eyes,

And that fair bosom heave with rising sighs!

Before that day, by some brave hero's hand

May I lie slain, and spurn the bloody sand.

To a YOUNG LADY on her BIRTH-DAY.*

THIS tributary verse receive, my fair,
Warm with an ardent lover's fondest prayer.

May this returning day for ever find

Thy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy mind:
All pains, all cares, may favouring Heaven remove,
All but the sweet solicitudes of love!

May powerful nature join with grateful art,

To point each glance, and force it to the heart!
O then, when conquer'd crowds confess thy sway,
When ev'n proud wealth and prouder wit obey,
My fair, be mindful of the mighty trust:
Alas! 'tis hard for beauty to be just.

Those sovereign charms with strictest care employ,
Nor give the generous pain, the worthless joy:
With his own form acquaint the forward fool,
Shown in the faithful glass of ridicule;
Teach mimick censure her own faults to find,
No more let coquettes to themselves be blind,
So shall Belinda's charms improve mankind.

THE YOUNG AUTHOUR. †

WHEN first the peasant, long inclined to roam,
Forsakes his rural sports and peaceful home,
Pleased with the scene the smiling ocean yields,
He scorns the verdant meads and flowery fields;
Then dances jocund o'er the watery way,

While the breeze whispers, and the streamers play :
Unbounded prospects in his bosom roll,

And future millions lift his rising soul:

* Mr. Hector informs me, that this was made almost impromptu, in his presence.

+ This he inserted, with many alterations, in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1743.

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