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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A44478	The poems of Horace consisting of odes, satyres, and epistles / rendred in English verse by several persons.; Works. English. 1671	Horace.; Brome, Alexander, 1620-1666.; Fanshawe, Richard, Sir, 1608-1666.; T. H. (Thomas Hawkins), Sir, d. 1640.; Dunstall, John, fl. 1644-1675.; Loggan, David, 1635-1700?	1666 (1666)	Wing H2781; ESTC R43263	170,972	418

Registers describe Thou from his loyns draw'st thine original Who reigned first within the Formian wall And whose amply spread command Raught Liris laving Maric's strand An Eastern tempest shall with furious roar Fling leaves in woods and leaves upon the shore If the aged Cow decry A true presaging augury Lay while thou canst dry faggots on the fire With lushious Wine to morrow feed desire A Pig fat and tender slay And let thy Hindes keep Holy-day ODE XVIII By Sir T. H. To FAUNUS Who being an infernal pestilent VVood-god he prayeth that passing thorow his Fields he would be favourable to him and his FAunus who after Nymphs dost range Through my precincts and fruitful Graunge Pass gently and propitious be To flocks and me A tender Kid the year shall end Full Cups of Liquor Venus friend We 'l pay Fumes shall on Altars flie In odours high Beasts when Decembers Nones appear In grazy grounds make sportive chear The jocund Clown in Meads doth feast The Oxe doth rest The Wolf 'mongst frearless Lambs doth stray Woods strew thee leafs upon this day The Ditcher joyes with measur'd mirth To tread the Earth ODE XIX To TELEPHUS Argument At Telephus he scoffs who whiles He Histories obsolete compiles Of things which chiefly constitute An happy life is wholly mute Quantum distat THe space 'twixt Inachus his reign And Codrus bravely for his Country slain And Aeacus his Kin and fights Fought under Sacred Ilium thou writes But of a Choan hogsheads price And who with fire cold water qualifies In whose house and what hour t' allay Pelignian cold thou not one word dost say Boy quick bring Cups for Cynthia's rise And for Mid-night bring th' Augurs Cup likewise Murena's and corrouze off Wine No less then three healths no more then nine A Poet who th' unequal Tribe Of Muses loves let him nine Jugs imbibe The Graces with nak'd Sisters joyn'd Let them for fear of brawlings be confin'd And drink three Cups off and no more O how I love to frolick it and roar Why sounds not still the Phrygian Flute Why Pipes and Harps permitted to be mute I parsimonious hands despise Strew Roses and let out wild frantick noise Arrive to envy'd Lycus ears And neighbour Maid unfit for Lycus years Mature-grown Chloe courts thee now Tel'phus grac'd with rank locks of comely shew And bright as radiant Vesper I I wasting ardour for my Glyc'raes fry ODE XX. To PYRRHUS Argument How dangerous a thing 't would prove T'abstract Nearchus from his love Non vides quanto PYrrhus how dang'rous 't is confess To take Whelps from a Lioness Straight thou scarr'd Ravisher wilt run When battel 's done When she through crouds of youthful men Shall to Nearchus turn again Great question 't is who bears away The greater pray As thou prepar'st thy speedy piles She whets her dreadful Tusks the whiles He th' Umpire trampled down they say The Victors Bay And wafted his sweet shiveled hair With gentle blasts like Nireas fair Or Ganymede snatcht up from fountfull Ida's Mount. ODE XXI To His VVine-vessel Argument He speaks t' his Rundiet to effuse For Corvine's sake choice Massick juyce Thence takes occasion to define The praises and effects of VVine O nata mecum KInd vessel coaetaneous with my date Compos'd when Manlius bare the consulate Whether thou invite to weep Or jest or brawl or love or sleep Where'r mark thy choice Massick liquors hide Well-worthy broaching on some sacred Tide Now Corvinus thee injoyns Come down and tap thy mellow Wines He though well studied in Socratic books Contemns thee not with sour and rigid looks And grave Cato as is fam'd Was oft with Bacchus gift inflam'd Thou sometimes sett'st upon a gentle rack Severe wits Thou the wiser pates canst make With thy mirth creating juyce Even all their secrets thought effuse Thou dost the Forelorn with hope fortifie And mak'st the poor man lift his horns on high Who drunk nor the Scepters fears Of Kings incens'd nor Souldiers spears For Bacchus Venus if in merry cue And graces loth to break the social Crew And lamps lighted shalt thou run Till Stars decline the orient Sun ODE XXII Upon DIANA Argument He Diana's offices relates To whom his Pine he dedicates Montium custos O Tripple Queen of Woods and Hills Who freest parturient wombs from ills At three Orizons and dost ever Them safe deliver Accept the Pine that shrouds my Farm Which yearly I le imbrew with warm Bores blood that sacrificed strike With tusks oblique ODE XXIII By Sir T. H. To PHIDILE The Gods are to be honoured with pure hands and the testimony of a well spent age IF Rural Phidile at the Moons arise To Heaven thou lift thy hands in humble wise If thou with Sacrifice thy Lars wilt please Or with new fruit and greedie swine appease Thy fertile Vineyard shall not suffer blast From pest'lent South nor parching dew be cast Upon thy Corn nor shall thy children dear Feel sickly Fits in Autumn of the year It is the long vow'd victime which is fed 'Mongst Holmes and Okes on snowie Algids head Or which in fat Albanian pastures grew That shall the Priests sharp axe with blood imbrew To thee who petty Gods dost magnifie With Mirtle branch and sprig of Rosemary It nothing appertains their feasts to keep With frequent slaughters of the fattest sheep If thy hand free from ill the Altar touch Thou shalt th' offended Gods appease as much With gift of sparkling Salt and pious meal As if thou vows with costly victimes seal ODE XXIV by Sir R. F. He inveighs against covetous men who continually joyn houses to houses building in the very Sea it self when in the mean time no buildings can free them from the necessity of dying He saith the Scythians are happy who draw their houses in waggons and till the fields in common Moreover denies that corruption of manners and license of sinning to be amongst these which is amongst the Romans But for the rooting out of these evils together with the depraved desire of increasing riches affirms there is need of a more rigid Discipline THough richer then unpoll'd Arabian wealth and Indian Gold Thou with thy works should'st drain The Tyrrbene and whole Pontick Main Thou could'st not when Death layes On Thee his Adamanti●e mace Thy minde from terrour free Nor body from mortality Wiser the Scythians Whose houses run on wheels like Waines And frozen Getes whose Field U●●ounded doth free Ceres yield Nor is 't the custome there To sow a land above a year And when that Crop is born The 〈◊〉 it each by turn There women mingle not For Son-in-Law's a poyson'd pot Nor govern Or their Dou'● Presuming 〈◊〉 adultrers pow'r Their 〈◊〉 to be well bred And Chastity flying the Bed Of others their own trust Perswading and the price of Lust. Oh! he that would asswage Our blood-shed and intestine rage If he would 〈◊〉 have His Countries Father on his grave Let him not fear t'

waste Under a shady Poplar spread Or at a Bubling Fountains Head Some Drums and Trumpets love and War Which Mothers do as much abhorr The Huntsman in the cold doth rome Forgetting his poor Wife at home Whether his Hounds a Stagg have rowz'd Or Marsian Boar his Nets have towz'd Mee Ivy Meed of learned Heads Ranks with the gods Mee chill Groves Treads Of Satyrs with loose Nymphs have show'd A way out of the common Road Whilest kind Euterpe wets my Flute Whilest Polyhymnie strings my Lute Then write Mee in the Lyrick Role My lofty Head shall knock the Pole A Paraphrase upon the first Ode by S. W. Esq To MECOENAS MECOENAS sprung from Royal blood My greatest Patron just and and good There are who in th' Olympick Games Raise the light dust but more their names When the Fleet Race and noble prize E're death the Victor Deifies Some in applause that empty aire Place both their honour and their care While others with a different minde Would choose more solid wealth to finde And rich in what the Earth dos yield To the whole Sea preferrs one field The Sea'l not tempt them or its store No not the World to leave the shoare The Merchant when he sees the Skyes Cover'd with storms and Tempests rise Thinks none so happy live or well As those that on the Main-land dwell He prayses what he slights at home But when from a bad Voyage come Above the Earth he loves the Main And longs to be at Sea again The Fuddlecap whose God 's the Vyne Lacks not the Sun if he have Wine By th' Sun he only finds a way To some cool Spring to spend the day Shrill Flutes and Trumpets Souldiers love And scorn those fears that Women move The Huntsman in the open Plains Regardless of the Air remains A Dear makes him forget his Wife And a fierce Boar despise his life But me the learned Lawrel give The Gods themselves by Poets live Give me a Grove whose gloomy shade For Nymphs and frisking Fawns was made Where from the Vu●gar hid I 'le be The Muses waiting all on me Here one my Harp and Lute shall string Another there shall stand and sing This one thing great Mecoenas doe Inroll me in the Lyhick Count A Lyrick Poet and I 'l mount Above the skies almost as high as you ODE II. By Sir R. F. To AUGUSTUS CAESAR That all the Gods are angry with the Romans for the killing of Julius Caesar That the only hope of the Empire is placed in Augustus ENough of Hail and cruel Snow Hath Iove now showr'd on us below Enough with Thundring Steeples down Frighted the Town Frighted the World lest Pyrrha's Raign Which of new monsters did complain Should come again when Proteus Flocks Did climbe the Rocks And Fish in tops of Elm-Trees hung Where Birds once built their Nests and sung And the all-covering Sea did bear The trembling Dear We Yellow Tyber did behold Back from the Tyrrhene Ocean rowl'd Against the Fane of Vesta power And Numa's Tower Whilest the Uxorious River swears He 'l be reveng'd for Ilia's Tears And over both his Banks doth rove Unbid of Iove Our Children through our faults but few Shall hear that we their Fathers slew Our Countrymen Who might as well The Persians quell What God shall we invoke to stay The falling Empire with what Lay Shall holy Nuns tire Vesta's Pray'r-Resisting Ear To whom will Iove the charge commend Of Purging us at length descend Prophetick Phoebus whose white Neck A Cloud doth deck Or Venus in whose smiling Rayes Youth with a thousand Cupids playes Or Mars if thou at length canst pity Thy long plagu'd City Alas we long have sported thee To whom 't is sport bright Casks to see And grim Aspects of Moorish Foot With Blood and Soot Or winged Hermes if 't is you Whom in Augustus form we view With this revenging th' other Flood Of Iulius Blood Return to Heaven late we pray And long with us the Romans stay Nor let disdain of that Offence Snatch thee from hence Love here Victorious Triumphs rather Love here the Name of Prince and Father Nor let the Medes unpunisht ride Thou being our Guide A Paraphrase on the Second Ode by S. W. To AUGUSTUS Storms long enough at length have blown Iove hayl fire has darted down Has his own Temples overthrown And threatned all the Town Threatned the World which now did fear Another Deluge to be near When Proteus all his herds did drive Upon the hills to live When highest trees with Fish were fill'd Those trees where birds were wont to build And staggs that could the wind out fly Must take the Sea or dye We Tiber saw when seas withstood His streams and checkt with Seas his flood More heady and unruly grown Not wash but bear all down And swelling at his Ilias wrong No more his banks did glide along But chose new Channels and a Sea To be reveng'd would be How our own swords those wounds did make Which might have made the Persian quake These Civil Warrs next age shall tell And fear what us befell When th' Empire thus begins to fall On what God shall poor Romans call In vain we hope our god will hear When Vesta stops her ear To whom will Iove Commission give To purge us or our Plagues reprieve Descend Apollo cloth'd with light Thy beams must make us bright Or else thou fairest Queen of Love More needed here then thou' art above About whose neck the Graces fly And languish in thine eye Or Mars if he hath any pity For his despis'd and ruin'd City Though Mars has been so long at Rome We need not wish he 'd come Or you bright Hermes proud to be Augustus more than Mercury Since in that shape you choose to breath And expiate Caesars death Let it be long ere you return To heav'n in love your Romans burn For their old crimes desire your stay Never to goe away Do you their Lives and Warrs command The Prince and Father of your Land Nor let our Enemies 'ore us ride While Caesar is our Guide ODE III. By Sir R. F. He prayes a prosperous Voyage to Virgil Embarqued for Athens and takes occasion from thence to inveigh against the Boldness of Man SHip that to us sweet Virgil ow'st With thee intrusted safe Convey him to the Attick Coast And save my better half So Helene's Brothers Stellifi'd And Venus guide thy Sails And the Wind 's Father having tie'd All up but Vernal Gales Of Oak a Bosom had that man And trebble-sheath'd with Brass Who first the horrid Ocean With brittle Bark did pass Nor fear'd the hollow Storms that rore The Hyades that weep Nor the South-wind which Lords it ore The Adriatick Deep What face of Death could him dismay That saw the Monsters fell And wracking Rocks and swelling Sea With Eyes that did not swell In vain the Providence of God The Earth and Sea did part If yet the watry Pathes are trod By

me still at home To his own Trade or I my self complain The more his praise my debt if I have brain Of such a Father now shall I repent Like some that quarrel with their own descent Because their blood from Nobles did not flow Reason as well as Nature answers No For if I should unweave the Loom of Fate And chuse my self new parents for my State In any Tribe Contented with mine own I would not change to be a Consuls Son Mad in the Vulgars judgement But in thine Sober perchance because I did decline An irksome load I am not us'd to bear For I must seek more wealth straight if that were And to beg Voices many a visit make Must at my heels a brace of Servants take For fear my honour should be seen alone To go into the Countrey or the Town There must be Horses store and Grooms thereto A Litter's to be hir'd too Whereas now 'T is lawful for me on a Bob-tail Mule To travel to Tarontum if I wull My cloak-bag galling her behind and I Digging her shoulders Not with Obliquie Like Tullus when in Tiber-Road he 's seen Attended with five Boyes carrying a skin Of Wine and a Close-stool Brave Senator More decently then thou and thousands more I could do that Where e'er I list I go Alone the price of Broath and Barley know Croud in at every Sight walk late in Rome Visit the Temple with a prayer then home To my Leek-pottage and Chich-pease Three boyes Serve in my Supper whom to counterpoise One bowl two beakers on a broad white slate A pitcher with two ears Campanian Plate Then do I go to sleep securely do 't Being next morning to attend no suit In the great Hall where Marsya doth look As if loud Nemio's face he could not brook I lie till Four Then walk or read a while Or write to please my self noint me with Oil Not such as Natta paws himself withal Robbing the Lamps When neer his Vertical The hotter Sun invites us to a Bath For our tir'd Limbs I fly the Dog-stars wrath Having din'd onely so much as may stay My appetite Loiter at home all da● These are my solaces this is the life Of men that shun ambition run from strife Lighter then if I soar'd on Glories wing The Nephew Son and Grand-son to a King SATYRE VII By A. B. A Braul between two Railing Buffoons THe venomous railing of that black mouth'd thing Who lately was prescrib'd Rupillius King Against that mungrel Persian and how he Reveng'd himself on King again these be Things I suppose notoriously known The talk of every Barbers shop in town This Persian being rich his wealth did draw Much business and that business suits in Law And with Rupillius King among the rest He had a very troublesome contest He was a surly fellow proud and bold And able King himself with ease t'out-scold Of such a bitter and invective speech That he even Billingsgate to rail could teach Now as to King since nothing could compose The differences which between them rose These two Tongue-combatants began their fray When Brutus govern'd wealthy Asia To th' Hall they come contending eagerly Both matcht as equally as Fencers be They made an exc'lent Scaene First in the Court The Persian pleads his cause and made good sport Our General Brutus to the skies he rais'd And his victorious Army highly prais'd Call'd him the Sun of Asia and all His Captains he propitious Stars did call Except that Buffoon King sayes he who 's far More mischievous t'you all than the Dog-star Is to the Husband-man thus on he ran And by his railing bore that baffl●d man Quite down before him like a Winter flood Which drives down every thing that e're withstood Its rapid motion and by violence Roots up the trees and so the Axe presents Thus when two Warriers engage in fight And both of equal courage skil and might Honour 's their aim both scorn to yield or r●n The more their valour the more mischiefs done So valiant Hector when he did engage 'Gainst stout Achilles such a deadly rage Did animate them both that nothing could Satiate their fury but each others blood And death of one meerly 'cause both were stout Conquer or die both could but ne're give out But when two Cowards quarrel or if one That courage has contends with one of none As Diomedes once with Glauceus did The Coward yields or runs for 't and instead Of blows gives bribes and presents to his Foe Onely to save his life and let him go King rallies up his thoughts and then retorts Invectives false and many of all sorts Just like a surlie Carman whose rude tongue Out-rails all Passengers be 't right or wrong He had not wit to jeer but rudely bauls And the smart Persian Rogue and Cuckold calls The angry Persian being so much stung By the reproaches of the Italians tougue Cries out Oh Brutus by the Gods I pray Thou whose profession's to take Kings away Murther this one King for me thou 'lt gain more By this then all the Kings th' hast kill'd before SATYRE VIII By A. B. A Discovery of Witchcraft OF an Old Fig-tree once the trunk was I And as useless piece of wood laid by 〈…〉 Carpenter who found Me lying so neglected on the ground Took me in hand to form me with his tool But whether he should make of me a stool Or a Priapus was a thing that ●id Long time perplex this politick work-mans head Till after long deliberation he For weighty reasons made a God of me Hence does my Deity proceed and I Here stand the thieves and birds to terrifie The thieves I fright away with my right hand And my long pole which does erected stand My Crown of Reeds does drive the birds away That they dare not in our new Gardens prey The ground where I now stand was heretofore A common Burying-place for all the poor Whose carcases in mean small graves were laid And this the publick Sepulcher was made For th' meanest sort of people those men which Were much the poorer 'cause they had been rich The bodies of such spend-thrifts here were casts As fool'd their means away and lack'd at last A thousand foot in length three hundred wide Which from the rest a Land-mark did divide Whose plain inscription did describe to th' Heirs Which ground was Sacred which ground was theirs Now men i' th' healthy Church-yard live and where Dead bodies stunk the living take fresh a●r And on that green hill now we walk which once Was all deform'd and cover'd ore with bones But yet the thieves and birds which hither come And haunt this place are not so troublesome To me as those who charmes and poysons use With which they do poor Mortal minds abuse These I can neither hinder nor destroy But in the silent nights by Moon-shine they Into these Gardens steal and pick up there Dead humane bones and hearbs that poysonous are