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So when the fteed, accustom'd to the rein,

Scents the known females in fome diftant plain,

He ftops; he turns; he paws in trembling heat,
The hollow ground, and champs the foaming bit; 445
Indignant hears the furious master chide,

Nor feels the goad that rankles in his fide;
Till forc'd, at length, with impotent delay,
And fullen ftep he takes his tardy way,

In fond reluctance throws his eyes around,

And, as he neighs, the ecchoing hills refound.


How oft, to guilty palaces confin'd,

Slaves to the fcepter'd rulers of mankind,

Snatch'd from the Muses, and their native feat,

Sigh the fad youth for Tyber's calm retreat, 455 Or thine, O Tufculum, content to bear

Unfpoil'd by wealth, the winter's ftorm fevere,

Far from the tumults mad ambition brings,

And cares that ceaseless haunt the courts of kings!

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Sprightly and free, the youth felf mov'd proceeds,

Nor ftern rebuke, nor harsh remonftrance needs;

Each honour'd teacher views with partial eyes,

And still enquiring, as new doubts arise,

With nature's vigour the lov'd toil purfues,


And ev'ry hour the growing flame renews.
Foremost the glorious conteft to invite,
He leaps exulting in a victor's right;

But if fubdued, unable now to bear

His equal's gaze, the mafter's eye severe,


In folitary fhades he seeks relief,

By anxious care confum'd, and rack'd with grief;

His alter'd looks the inward conflict shew,

And down his cheeks the graceful forrows flow.

Such be the youth the Mufes fhall inspire,

And touch his hallow'd lips with facred fire:


Phoebus for fuch prepares th' unfading crown,
Calls from the throng, and ftamps him for his own.
But he whose sluggish foul no power can charm,
Nor fhame provoke, nor fenfe of glory warm; 485

Whose torpid paffions one dull tenor keep,

Though fury rave, tho' gentle pity weep;

Whose ear unblefs'd no precept can retain,
Deaf as the adder to the tuneful ftrain;
May ne'er approach the Heliconian ftream,
Nor violate the fhade of Academe.

Scarce will the critic deign a fcanty praise
To the green bard and his unripen'd lays;
To time alone the mellow fruits belong,
Of the full year, and the transporting fong.




Not me the quick unkindly growth can please,

Till blufhing autumn bend the loaded trees,

Of various hue the cluster'd vines appear,

At once embellish, and enrich the year.

Too early ripe, dropt from the parent bough, 500

The clusters fall, wide scatter'd all below;

Neglected there, they haften to decay,

Crush'd by each clown that treads the flippery way. Let none auftere the ftripling fports deny,

Nor of his joys defraud the sprightly boy;

Some short recefs the ftudious year may claim,
On Tyber's steep to roufe the timorous game;
To chafe the goat, the nimble deer t' enfnare,
Or far from cities, in a purer air,
Mark the rude manners of the village swain,

And taste the fimple beauties of the plain.
Yet not to fports alone he yields the day,
But oft retiring, takes his penfive way,



Where high Albunea waves her stately groves,


Or thro' the meads the limpid Anio roves;

To list'ning dryads fings in equal lays,

The rural customs, and the rural praise.
So when repeated harvests load the plain,
Barren a while th' unlabour'd fields remain ;
Till the tir'd soil, it's pristine force restor❜d,

With grateful change repays each ruftic lord;
In proud luxuriance waves the drooping ear,
And generous plenty crowns th' exulting year.
Yet not alike on all does genius pour

The ray fublime, and gild the natal hour:

What crowds there are, as if in nature's spite




Who court the Muse, and right or wrong muft write!

Apes of Parnaffus, who in evil hour

Mistake the inclination for the power!

But vain th' attempt, the fond ambition vain; 530

No Muse appears, no God infpires the ftrain;

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