men,

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Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unseen; 'Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from sight Those acts of goodness which themselves requite.

O let us still the secret joy partake, To follow Virtue ev'n for Virtue's sake.' 'And live there men who slight immortal fame ?

Who then with incense shall adore our name ?

But, mortals! know, 't is still our greatest pride

To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.

Rise! Muses, rise! add all your tuneful breath;

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These must not sleep in darkness and in

death.'

She said: in air the trembling music floats, And on the winds triumphant swell the

notes;

So soft, tho' high, so loud, and yet so clear, Ev'n list'ning angels lean'd from Heav'n to

hear:

To farthest shores th' ambrosial spirit flies, Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies. Next these a youthful train their vows express'd,

With feathers crown'd, with gay embroid❜ry dress'd:

Of loss and gain, of famine, and of store,
Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore,
Of prodigies, and portents seen in air,
Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing
hair,

Of turns of fortune, changes in the state,
The fall of fav'rites, projects of the great,
Of old mismanagements, taxations new;
All neither wholly false, nor wholly true.
Above, below, without, within, around,
Confused, unnumber'd multitudes are
found,

Who pass, repass, advance, and glide

away,

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Hosts rais'd by fear, and phantoms of a day: Astrologers, that future fates foreshew, Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few; And priests, and party zealots, numerous bands,

With home-born lies or tales from foreign lands;

Each talk'd aloud, or in some secret place, And wild impatience stared in ev'ry face. The flying rumours gather'd as they roll'd, Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told; And all who told it added something new, And all who heard it made enlargements too;

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In ev'ry ear it spread, on ev'ry tongue it grew.

Thus flying east and west, and north and south,

News travel'd with increase from mouth to mouth.

So from a spark that, kindled first by chance,

With gath'ring force the quick'ning flames advance;

Till to the clouds their curling heads aspire,

And towers and temples sink in floods of fire.

When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung,

Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue, 480

Thro' thousand vents, impatient, forth they flow,

And rush in millions on the world below. Fame sits aloft, and points them out their

course,

Their date determines, and prescribes their force;

Some to remain, and some to perish soon, Or wane and wax alternate like the moon.

But few, alas! the casual blessing boast,
So hard to gain, so easy to be lost.
How vain that second life in others' breath,
Th' estate which wits inherit after death!
Ease, health, and life for this they must
resign,

(Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!) The great man's curse, without the gains, endure,

Be envied, wretched; and be flatter'd, poor;
All luckless wits their enemies profest, 511
And all successful, jealous friends at best.
Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at all.
But if the purchase costs so dear a price
As soothing Folly, or exalting Vice;
Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway,
And follow still where Fortune leads the
way;

Or if no basis bear my rising name,
But the fall'n ruins of another's fame; 520
Then teach me, Heav'n! to scorn the guilty
bays;

Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise;

Unblemish'd let me live or die unknown; Oh, grant an honest fame, or grant me none!'

For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep,

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And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep.
Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies;
But Mars on thee might look with Venus'
eyes.

O scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!
O useful time for lovers to employ!
Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,
Come to these arms, and melt in this em-
brace!

The vows you never will return, receive; And take, at least, the love you will not give.

See, while I write, my words are lost in tears!

The less my sense, the more my love ap

Sure 't was not much to bid one kind adieu (At least to feign was never hard to you): Farewell, my Lesbian love,' you might have said;

Or coldly thus, Farewell, O Lesbian maid!'

No tear did you, no parting kiss receive, Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.

No lover's gift your Sappho could confer, And wrongs and woes were all you left with her.

No charge I gave you, and no charge could give,

But this, Be mindful of our loves, and live.'

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Now by the Nine, those powers ador'd by

me,

And Love, the God that ever waits on thee,

When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew)

That you were fled, and all my joys with you,

Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood,

Grief chill'd my breast, and stopt my freezing blood;

No sigh to rise, no tear had power to flow,
Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe:
But when its way th' impetuous passion
found,

I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound;
I rave, then weep; I curse, and then com-

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plain; Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.