OPHEBUS, down the western sky,
Far hence, diffuse thy burning ray,
Thy light to distant worlds supply,
And wake them to the cares of day;
Come, gentle eve, the friend of ease, Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night! Refresh me with a cooling breeze,
And cheer me with a lambent light.
Lay me where o'er the verdant ground
Her living carpet nature spreads,
Where the green bow'r with roses crown'd,
In show'rs its fragrant foliage sheds.
Improve the peaceful hour with wine,
Let music die along the grove,
Around the bowl let myrtles twine,
And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love.
Come, Stella, queen of all my heart!
Come, born to fill its vast desires!
Thy looks perpetual joys impart,
Thy voice perpetual love inspires.
While all my wish and thine complete,
By turns we languish and we burn,
Let sighing gales our sighs repeat,
Our murmurs, murm'ring brooks return.
Let me, when nature calls to rest,
And blushing skies the morn foretell,
Sink on the down of Stella's breast,
And bid the waking world farewell.
THE hearth was clean, the fire clear,
The kettle on for tea, Ranger was in his elbow chair,
As blest as man could be.
Clarinda, who his heart possess'd,
And was his new-made bride,
With head reclin'd upon his breast,
Sat toying by his side.
Stretch'd at his feet, in happy state
A fav'rite dog was laid,
By which a little sportive cat
In wanton humour play'd.
Clarinda's hand he gently press'd,
She stole an am'rous kiss,
And, blushing, modestly confess'd
The fullness of her bliss.
Ranger, with honest heart elate,
Pray'd to almighty Jove,
That it might ever be his fate
Just so to live and love.
"Be this eternity," he cry'd,
"And let no more be giv'n;
Continue thus my fire-side,
I ask no more of Heav'n."
OF FLAMINIUS'S HYMN TO AURORA.
SEE fair Aurora, with her winged steeds,
From the glad regions of the east returns ; The op'ning dawn her radiant car succeeds, Flushes her cheek, and in her bosom burns.
Hence, gloomy darkness, nor presume to stay,
Back to the mansion of thy native hell,
Whence horrid visions take their destin'd way,
Dire ghosts appear, and quiv'ring phantoms yell.
Bring then my votive harp, and o'er the plain
Sprinkle the vernal wreaths with plenteous hand:
To thee, O goddess, shall the gift pertain,
Who pour'st thy lustre o'er the cheerful land.
With odorif'rous garlands thee I hail,
Where gaudy Flora boasts her thousand dyes;
And, swiftly wafted by the balmy gale,
To thy mild shrine the pure lustrations rise.
O may these praises reach thy gentle ear!
For thee the muse begins her pious song;
The sacred Gods she taught me to revere,
To whom the hymns of gratitude belong.
But who, O parent of the splendid day,
Can paint thy glories in as bright a strain ?
What heav'n-taught numbers can thy form display,
O fairest of the fair etherial train?
When in the palace of great Jove are secn
Thy downy cheeks, where blended roses grow,
Thou shin'st in artless majesty a queen,
Loose to the winds thy golden tresses flow.
The twinkling stars at thy appearance shroud
Their vanish'd orbs, amid excess of light,
Pale Luna flies, like a retreating cloud,
Shrinks at thy presence, and avoids thy sight.
Still had mankind, without thy plaistic aid,
Lain in th' abyss in shapeless chaos lost,
Things by no various colour been portray'd,
And every art, and every science lost.
By thee dull slumbers from our heavy eyes
(The very images of death) recede;
All at thy lov'd approach industrious rise,
To seek by healthful toil their promis'd meed.
Soon quits the traveller his short repose,
Beneath the yoke again the heifers bend,
To his known wood the peaceful shepherd goes,
And on his steps his wonted flock attend.
Torn from th' embraces of his tender maid,
The weeping lover now forsakes her arms;
To go, unwilling; yet to stay, afraid;
Contemns thy pow'r which drives him from her
Let him in darkness' treach'rous shades delight,
O may thy blushing radiance still be mine!
Grant me, O goddess, to behold thy light
For many a rolling year unclouded shine.
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