At once, although by nature dumb, TO HEALTH. ELDEST born of powers divine! To enjoy what thou canst give, Owe, themselves, their youth to thee ON INVALIDS. FAR happier are the dead, methinks, than they Who look for death, and fear it every day. ON THE ASTROLOGERS. THE astrologers did all alike presage ON AN OLD WOMAN. MYCILLA dyes her locks, 'tis said: She buys them black; they therefore need ON FLATTERERS. No mischief worthier of our fear For lull'd into a dangerous dream Who strikes, when most secure we seem, The inevitable blow. ON A TRUE FRIEND. HAST thou a friend? thou hast indeed ON THE SWALLOW. ATTIC maid! with honey fed, Bear'st thou to thy callow brood Yonder locust from the mead, Ye have kindred voices clear, Both attendant on the spring! Ah, for pity drop the prize; Let it not with truth be said That a songster gasps and dies, ON LATE ACQUIRED WEALTH. POOR in my youth, and in life's later scenes means; [power. And nought when old enjoy'd, denied the ON A BATH, BY PLATO. DID Cytherea to the skies From this pellucid lymph arise? When bathing here, that made it such? ON A FLOWER, BY ISIDORUS. WITH Seeds and birdlime, from the desert air, Eumelus gather'd free, though scanty fare. No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kiss Nor luxury knew, save liberty, nor bliss. Thrice thirty years he lived, and to his heirs His seeds bequeath'd, his birdlime, and his snares. ON NIOBE. CHARON! receive a family on board, Apollo and Diana, for a word By me too proudly spoken, slew us all. ON A GOOD MAN. TRAVELLER, regret not me; for thou shalt find Just cause of sorrow none in my decease, Who, dying, children's children left behind, three, And oft their infants in my bosom lay, Nor saw I one of all derived from me, Touch'd with disease, or torn by death away. Their duteous hands my funeral rites bestow'd, And me, by blameless manners fitted well To seek it, sent to the serene abode Where shades of pious men forever dwell. ON A MISER. THEY call thee rich-I deem thee poor, ANOTHER. A MISER traversing his house, "Tell me, my dear, to what cause is it "Fear not, good fellow, for your hoard! ANOTHER. ART thou some individual of a kind Long-lived by nature as the rook or hind? much. Heap treasure, then, for if thy need be such, ON FEMALE INCONSTANCY. RICH, thou hadst many lovers-poor, hast none, Where wast thou born, Socicrates, and where, In what strange country can thy parents live, Who seem'st, by thy complaints, not yet aware That want's a crime no woman can forgive? ON THE GRASSHOPPER. HAPPY Songster, perch'd above, None thy pleasures can create. Thee it satisfies to sing Sweetly the return of spring, Herald of the genial hours, Harming neither herbs nor flowers. |