SOME ODES OF HORACE IMITATED. With Relation to His MAJESTY, and the TIMES.  
By JOHN GLANVILLE, of Lincolns-Inn, Gent.  
LONDON: Printed for John Newton, at the Three Pigeons against the Inner-Temple-Gate in Fleetstreet. 1690.   

TO THE READER.  
A Trifle so small as are the following Odes, cannot be worth a Preface, only the Reader may be pleased to know, because they may seem to come out somewhat of the latest, that they were written a good while since, in the Country, (those Two which sprung from particular Occasions at their proper Seasons) without any Design of ever Printing them. But coming lately to Town, and meeting with Mr. Mountague's Epistle to the Earl of Dorset, the Just Reproach he has there given to the Backwardness of the Poets, and the Generous Praise he has bestowed on a Prince who merits all that can be given Him, provoked me to offer up my Incense in Public, fired me with an honest Ambition of Rivalling him in Zeal, though not in Wit; and made me unwilling to let him appear Single in a Cause in which the whole Army of Poets ought to have concurred. I shall leave the World to judge of the Performance; who, if they should think it not altogether inconsiderable, aught to ascribe it to a Heat I had during the Writing; which, raised by a Passion for so Glorious a Hero, would perhaps not suffer me to compose any thing in His Service very Mean and Grovelling.   
Some ODES of Horace Imitated.  

Book IV. Ode V.  
Divis este Bonus, optime Romulae  
Custos Gentes.  
Inscribed to His Majesty in Ireland.  

I.  
OF Godlike Race, born with auspicious Fate,  
Best generous Guardian of our British State,  
Return; too long a hostile Land  
Has wronged our happiness, and thee detained;  
Kind to the hopes you gave: O hasten home,  
And to thy wanting Court, and waiting Senate come.   

II.  
Restore thy Nation its Divinest Light,  
The Lustre of thy Presence, and thy Sight;  
When thy propitious Beams upon us smile,  
'tis Spring throughout the happy Isle:  
The gladder day flies pleasanter away,  
And the serener Sun shines with a better Ray.   

III.  
As when beyond ungrateful Seas  
The absent Youth th' expected time out-stays,  
With anxious Love and tender moan,  
Sighs a grieved Mother for a darling Son;  
With Prayers and Vows his coming she implores,  
And watches still the Winds, and still looks toward the Shores.   

IV.  
Such, Sacred Monarch, is for thee,  
Our Pain, our Passion, and our Piety;  
Such, so impatient our Concern,  
So languish we, and die for thy Return.  
Thy England thus, stung with like fond desire,  
Does for her Nassau long, her Caesar does require.   

V.  
And all but Just: Great Prince, through thee,  
Our Convoyed Fleets enjoy a peaceful Sea:  
Secure our Flocks, possess their Plains;  
In fertile Fields auspicious plenty reigns;  
Faith strict and nice, with generous honest shame,  
Flies a reproachful Gild, and fears a conscious blame.   

VI  
No more shall Vice licentious reign,  
No more loose Loves chaste Families shall slain; 
This refers to His Majesty's Letter to the Bishops.   
The Mother now shall boast a lawful Race,  
Show all the Husband in the Infant's Face.  
Thy Zeal shall rouse long dormant Discipline,  
And Pain, and sure Disgrace shall close attend in sin.   

VII.  
Who dreads the Turk, or dreads the Pope,  
Whilst he has Nassau to assure his Hope?  
Who for rude Highland Rebels cares?  
For gallic Force, or for Hibernian Wars?  
Of Armies, and of Fleets, unmoved we hear,  
From Danger thou secure, we are secure from Fear.   

VIII.  
Under his Vine each sits in peace,  
And sees on his Affairs the Noon decrease:  
Then when the Morning Duty's passed,  
Makes to a hearty Dinner cheerful haste;  
Enjoys his Cheer, whilst the just Meal to crown,  
Sacred to thee at last an honest Glass goes down.   

IX.  
Thee we with Praise, Thee we with Wine  
Adore; Thee honour as a thing Divine;  
Our better Genius Thee proclaim,  
And with our Guardian Angels join thy Name:  
As her like Heroes, grateful Greece of old,  
By God like Acts obliged amongst her Gods enroled.   

X.  
Long may'st thou live, long may'st thou reign,  
In Peace and Glory thy glad Realms maintain  
This every, and this all the day,  
With faithful Hearts thy People duly say  
This is our Wish, and this our Care,  
Our drunken Evening Health, our sober Morning Prayer.    

Book III. Ode XIV.  Herci●is ricit modo dictus, O Plebs. 
Upon His Majesty's Happy Return out of Ireland.  

I.  
SEE, England, see; thy mighty Nassau's come,  
The Belgic Hercules, Victorious home;  
From vanquished Foes has Days and Triumphs brought,  
With bravely ventured Death, and glorious Dangers sought.   

II.  
Let Fair Maria to the Temple move,  
And pay due thanks to the Just Powers above;  
Let Anna join, nor fair a Heaven to bless,  
Which gave a Brother safety, and a King success.   

III.  
Let joyful Mother's double Praise afford,  
For Sons preserved, and for a Prince restored:  
Let all the Young and all the Fair assist,  
Nor Wife, nor blooming Maid be in the Consort mist.   

IV.  
Let every Tongue, and every Heart,  
With Universal gladness bear a part;  
Let none repine, let none complain,  
Nor with an ill timed Grief the Sacred Joy profane.   

V.  
To me the Day a perfect Jubilee,  
From every Care my Mind shall free.  
Nor Tumult now, nor Violence will I fear,  
Whilst Nassau sits at Helm, and does the Empire steer.   

VI  
Where is the Essence, where are the Perfumes,  
To scent my Hair, and scent my Rooms?  
With pious Pomp, and decent Luxury,  
I'll celebrate the well-observed Solemnity.   

VII.  
Let me have Wine, rich, generous Wine,  
Worthy a Day so Great, and so Div●ne.  
A Virgin Cask of old untasted Juice,  
By Heaven ordained, and kept for this peculiar use.   

VIII.  
Then to complete, and finish the Delight,  
Bid wanton Caelia come and bless the Night:  
With kind haste bid her hither move,  
To heighten Joys of Wine with Joys of Love.   

IX.  
If her damned Maid thy entrance stay,  
If she deny, if she delay,  
Ne'er importune, nor urge the business on,  
But come away, and leave th' ill-natured Jilt alone.   

X.  
Time was when I should not have tamely born,  
So proud a 'Slight, and rude a Scorn;  
When warmer Youth, with generous Fire,  
For every base Affront did brave Revenge inspire.   

XI.  
But Oh; those days are done; my hoary Hairs  
Show I am past, am passed the Wars:  
Too frozen, and too gentle Age,  
Has cooled my Love, and calmed my Rage.    

Book III. Ode XXV.  
Quò me, Bacche rapis tui  
Plenum?  

ay,  
O Bacchus! whither dost thou hurry me,  
Full, full of thy Divinity, and thee?  
Into what Caves, into what Bowers,  
Informed by a new Soul, and quick exalted Powers;  
With swift Confusion am I hurled,  
And rapt and spirited about the World?  
In what Divine Recess shall I be heard of, Fame  
Striving to Eternize Illustrious Nassau's Name;  
Raised to the Sphere, in never dying Odes,  
T' insert it 'mongst the Stars, and place it with the Gods?   

II.  
All shall be Miracle I sing;  
I'll write some great, some new, some unexampled thing;  
Something above all pattern, more  
Than Mankind ever said, or ever thought before.  
Such was th' Amazement, such the Fire,  
Which the mad Evias did on Thracian Hills inspire,  
When Rhodope's sacred Mount, and Heber's conscious Flood,  
Appearing to her view, stirred the Lymphatic Mood,  
Whilst th' infused God did all her Powers engage,  
Quite senseless with the Trance, and sleepless with the Rage.  
Oh, the Delight, whilst winged with Extafie,  
Through unknown pathless Tracts, I devious fly!  
How wondering, and how pleased, as the wild Fancy roves,  
To view the Desert Rocks, and unfrequented Groves!   

III.  
O Bacchus, thou Almighty Generous Power,  
By whose assistance those who thee adore,  
Whilst thy brave Heat does their strong Spirits warm,  
Things above weak dull Nature can perform:  
There's nothing low shall issue, nothing mean,  
Nothing mortal from my Pen;  
Thou Captain, and Conductor of my Flight,  
In daring Strains I'll soar to a yet unknown height;  
Whate'er, whate'er the Danger be,  
'Tis sweet, 'tis sweet, Great God, to follow thee.   
FINIS.   

ADVERTISEMENT.  
LAtely Published, The Ghost of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, appearing to Voloart, the Porter; Or a Dialogue concerning the Times. Translated one of French.