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HORACE HIS Ode to VENUS.
LIB. IV. ODE I.
IMITATED By Mr. POPE.
LONDON: Printed for J. WRIGHT, and Sold by J. ROBERTS in Warwick-lane, MDCCXXXVII. (Price Six Pence.)
[]THE FIRST ODE OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF HORACE.
Q. HORATII FLACCI ODARUM LIB. IV. ODE. I.
AD VENEREM.
[]INTER miſſa Venus diu
Rurſus bella moves? parce precor, precor!
Non tum qualis eram, bonae
Sub regno Cynarae: Deſine, dulcium
Mater ſaeva Cupidinum,
Circa luſtra decem flectere mollibus
Jam durum imperiis: abi
Quo blandae juvenum te revocant preces.
[4] Tempeſtiviùs in domo
Paulli, purpureis ales oloribus,
Comeſſabere Maximi,
Si torrere jecur quaeris idoneum.
Namque et nobilis & decens,
Et pro ſolicitis non tacitus reis,
Et centum puer artium,
Latè ſigna feret militiae tuae.
Et quandoque potentior
Largis muneribus riſerit aemuli,
Albanos prope te lacus
Ponet marmoream, ſub trabe citrea.
Illic plurima naribus
Duces thara; lyraeque & Berecynthiae
Delectabere tibiae
Miſtis carminibus, non ſine fiſtulâ.
[6] Illic bis pueri die
Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum
Laudantes, pede candido
In morem Salium ter quatient humum.
Me nec femina, nec puer
Jam, nec ſpes animi credula mutui,
Nec certare juvat mero:
Nec vincire novis tempora floribus.
—Sed cur, heu! Ligurine, cur
Manat rara meas lacryma per genas?
Cur facunda parum decoro
Inter verba cadit lingua ſilentio?
Nocturnis te ego ſomniis
Jam captum teneo: jam volucrem ſequor
Te, per gramina Martii
Campi, te per aquas, dure, volubiles.
THE FIRST ODE OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF HORACE:
TO VENUS.
[]AGAIN? new Tumults in my Breaſt?
Ah ſpare me, Venus! let me, let me reſt!
I am not now, alas! the man
As in the gentle Reign of My Queen Anne.
Ah ſound no more the ſoft alarms,
Nor circle ſober fifty with thy Charms.
Mother too fierce of dear Deſires!
Turn, turn to willing Hearts your wanton fires.
[5] To Number five direct your Doves,
There ſpread round M**y all your blooming Loves;
Noble and young, who ſtrikes the heart
With every ſprightly, every decent part;
Equal, the injur'd to defend,
To charm the Miſtreſs, or to fix the Friend.
He, with a hundred Arts refin'd,
Shall ſtretch thy Conqueſts over half the kind:
To him each Rival ſhall ſubmit,
Make but his riches equal to his Wit.
Then ſhall thy Form the Marble grace,
(Thy Graecian Form) and Chloe lend the Face:
His Houſe, emboſom'd in the Grove,
Sacred to ſocial Life and ſocial Love,
Shall glitter o'er the pendent green,
Where Thames reflects the viſionary Scene.
Thither, the ſilver-ſounding Lyres
Shall call the ſmiling Loves, and young Deſires;
There, every Grace and Muſe ſhall throng,
Exalt the Dance, or animate the Song;
[7] There, Youths and Nymphs, in conſort gay,
Shall hail the riſing, cloſe the parting day.
With me, alas! thoſe joys are o'er;
For me, the vernal Garlands bloom no more.
Adieu! fond hope of mutual fire,
The ſtill-believing, ſtill-renew'd deſire;
Adieu! the heart-expanding bowl,
And all the kind Deceivers of the ſoul!
—But why? ah tell me, ah too dear!
Steals down my cheek th'involuntary Tear?
Why words ſo flowing, thoughts ſo free,
Stop, or turn nonſenſe at one glance of Thee?
Thee, dreſt in Fancy's airy beam,
Abſent I follow thro' th'extended Dream,
Now, now I ſeize, I claſp thy charms,
And now you burſt, (ah cruel!) from my arms,
And ſwiftly ſhoot along the Mall,
Or ſoftly glide by the Canal,
Now ſhown by Cynthia's ſilver Ray,
And now, on rolling Waters ſnatch'd away.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3682 Horace his ode to Venus Lib IV Ode I Imitated by Mr Pope. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5F49-9