FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF LUCRETIUS, T "Tum porrò puer, &c.” HUS, like a failor by a tempeft hurl'd Afhore, the babe is shipwreck'd on the world: Naked he lies, and ready to expire; Helpless of all that human wants require; Expos'd upon unhofpitable earth, From the first moment of his hapless birth. They want no rattles for their froward mood, Nor forge the wicked inftruments of war: TRANSLATIONS THE THIRD ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK O F HORA CE. Infcribed to the Earl of RoscoMMON, on his intended Voyage to Ireland. S may th' aufpicious queen of love, As thou, to whom the Mufe commends Y 2 } Nor Nor fear'd the winds contending roar, Nor billows beating on the fhore; Nor all the tyrants of the main. The more confin'd, the more he tries, And at forbidden quarry flies. Thus bold Prometheus did afpire, And ftole from Heaven the feeds of fire: A train of ills, a ghaftly crew, In fwarms th' offending wretch furround, |