Page:Pastorals Epistles Odes (1748).djvu/145

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No weight of grief,But, whelm'd in pleasures, finds relief,Sunk in the sweet abyss. 50Thou, Semele, with hair a-flow,Thou by thunder doom'd to dy,Mingling with the gods in bliss,Art happy, for ever, on high:Thee Pallas does for ever love, 55Thee chiefly Jupiter, who rules above;Thee thy son holds ever dear,Thy son with the ivy-wreathed spear.
ANTISTROPHE II.Measures 16.
Beauteous Ino, we are told,With the sea-daughters dwells of Nereus old, 60And has, by lot, obtain'dLasting life, beneath the deep,A life within no bounds of time restrain'd.The hour of death,The day when we resign our breath, 65That offspring of the sun,Which bids us from our labours sleep,In vain do mortals seek to know,Or who destin'd is to run

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