worthy kind of servitude, is ir capable of producing any thing good or noble. I have seen originals, both in painting and poesy, much more Icautiful than their natural objects; but I never saw a copy better than the original: which indeed cannot be otherwise; for men resolving in no case to shoot beyond the mark, it is a thousand to one if they shoot not short of it. It does not at all trouble me, that the grammarians, perhaps, will not suffer this libertine way of rendering foreign authors to be called translation; for I am not so much enamoured of the name trans own Muse; for that is a liberty which this kind of poetry can hardly live without. QUEEN of all harmonious things, Dancing words, and speaking strings! [voice. let the hills around reflect the image of thy And But, oh! what man to join with these can worthy Is Theron the next honour claims: Theron there, and he alone, Ev'n his own swift forefathers has outgone, Till on the fatal bank at last With pride and joy espy. lator, as not to ish rather to be something bet-The THE SECOND OLYMPIC ODE OF Written in praise of Theron, prince of Agrigentum, (a famous city in Sicily, built by his ancestors) who, in the seventy-seventh Olympic, won the chariot-prize. He is commended from the nobility of his race, (whose story is often toucht on) from his great riches, (an ordinary common-place in Pindar) from his hospitality, munificence, and other virtues. The Ode (according to the constant custom of the poet) consists more in digressions, than in the main subject: and the reader must not be eboqued to hear him speak so often of his Then chearful notes their painted years did sing, Their genuine virtues did more sweet and clear, To which, great son of Rhea! say For the past sufferings of this noble race Hearken no more to thy command) Do these happy changes shine But death did them from future dangers free; For living man's security, Never did the Sun as yet Roll with alternate waves, like day and night: And did old oracles fulfil Of gods that cannot lie, for they foretell but their own will. Erynnis saw 't, and made in her own seed The innocent parricide to bleed; She slew his wrathful sons with mutual blows: But better things did then succeed, And brave Thersander, in amends for what was past, arose. Brave Thersander was by none, In war, or warlike sports, out-done. Loud Olympus, happy thee, Isthmus and Nemaa, does twice happy see; By not being all thine own; Greatness of mind, and fortune too, Both their several parts must do In the noble chase of fame; [lame. This without that is blind, that without this is Riches alone are of uncertain date, And on short man long cannot wait; They, whilst life's air they breathe, consider well, and know Th' account they must hereafter give below; In deep unlovely vaults, The heavy necessary effects of voluntary faults. There neither earth nor sea they plough, For food, that whilst it nourishes does decay, Thrice had these men through mortal bodies past, Till all their little dross was purg'd at last, The Muse-discover'd world of Islands Fortunate. Here all the heroes, and their poets, live; Had try'd it on his body in vain) To Theron, Muse! bring back thy wandering song, Whom those bright troops expect impatiently; And may they do so long;! How, noble archer! do thy wanton arrows fly Thy sounding quiver can ne'er emptied be: Wallows in wealth, and uns a turning maze, That no vulgar eye can trace. Like the ignoble crow, rapine and noise does love; Whilst Nature, like the sacred bird of Jove, Now bears loud thunder; and anon with silent joy The beauteous Phrygian boy Defeats the strong, o'ertakes the flying prey, And sometimes basks in th' open flames of day; And sometimes too he slrowds His soaring wings amor g the clouds. Leave, wanton Muse! thy roving flight; To thy loud string the well-fletcht arrow put; Let Agrigentum be the butt, And Theron be the white. And, lest the name of verse should give Malicious men pretext to 1 nisbelieve, By the Castalian waters swear, (A sacred oath no poets daie To take in vain, No more than gods do that of Styx prophane) A better man, or greater-sou l'd, was born ; No man near him should be poor! But in this thankless world the givers Wrongs and outrages to do, Lest men should think we owe. Appear'd not half so bright, But cast a weaker light, Such monsters, Theron! has thy virtue found: Through earth, and air, and seas, and up to th Eut all the malice they profess, Thy secure honour cannot wound; For thy vast bounties are so numberless, That them or to conceal, or else to tell, Is equally impossible! THE FIRST NEMÆAN ODE OF PINDAR. Chromius, the son of Agesidamus, a young Of bright Latona, where she bred Who saw'st her tender forehead ere the horns were grown! Who, like a gentle scion newly started out, Thee first my song does greet, Young Chromius, too, with Jove began; Nor ought he therefore like it less, The torches which the mother brought heavenly vault. "To thee, O Proserpine! this isle I give," Said Jove, and, as he said, Smil'd, and bent his gracious head. "And thou, O isle!" said he, "for ever thrive, The country thick with towns be set, Let all the towns be then Wise in peace, and bold in wars! stellation! Aud feast more upon thee, than thou on it. strength and beauty through the forming mass; For the great dower which Fortune made to it. 'Tis wiser much to hoard-up friends. Though happy men the present goods possess, Th' unhappy have their share in future hopes no less. How early has young Chromius begun And borne the noble prize away, Whilst other youths yet at the barriers stay! None but Alcides e'er set earlier forth than he: The god, his father's blood, nought could restrain, 'Twas ripe at first, and did disdain The slow advance of dull humanity. The big-limb'd babe in his huge cradle lay, When, lo! by jealous Juno's fierce commands, Rolling and hissing loud, into the room; heir gaping mouths did forked tongues, like thunderbolts, present. Some of th' amazed women dropt down dead About the room, some into corners crept, Where silently they shook and wept : All naked from her bed the passionate mother leap'd, To save or perish with her child; She trembled, and she cry'd; the mighty infant smil'd: The mighty infant seem'd well pleas'd At his gay gilded foes ; And, as their spotted necks up to the cradle rose, With their drawn swords In ran Amphitryo and the Theban lords; Laugh, and point downwards to his prey, Where, in death's pangs and their own gore, they folding lay. When wise Tiresias this beginning knew, What mighty tyrants he should slay, To their great offspring here below; And how his club should there outdo Apollo's silver bow, and his own father's thunder too: In their harmonious, golden palaces ; Walk with ineffable delight Pindar's unnavigable song Like a swoln flood from some steep mountain pours along; The ocean meets with such a voice, From his enlarged mouth, as drowns the ocean's noise. So Pindar does new words and figures roll Which in no channel deigns t'abide, Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong, Such mournful, and such pleasing words, As joy to his mother's and his mistress' grief affords He bids him live and grow in fame; Among the stars he sticks his name; The grave can but the dross of him devour, So small is Death's, so great the poet's power! Lo, how th' obsequious wind and swelling air The Theban swan does upwards bear Into the walks of clouds, where he does play, And with extended wings opens his liquid way! Whilst, alas! my timorous Muse Unambitious tracts pursues; Does with weak, unballast wings, About the mossy brooks and springs, About the trees' new-blossom'd heads, About the gardens' painted beds, About the fields and flowery meads, And all inferior beauteous things, Like the laborious bee, And there with humble sweets contents her inFor little drops of honey flee, dustry. THE RESURRECTION. Nor winds to voyagers at sea, Through the thick groves of never-withering light, Nor showers to earth, more necessary be, And, as he walks, affright The Lion and the Bear, Bull, Centaur, Scorpion, all the radiant monsters there. THE PRAISE OF PINDAR. IN IMITATION OF Horace's second Ode, B. IV. Pindarum quisquis studet æmulari, &c. PINDAR is imitable by none; The phenix Pindar is a vast species alone. (Heaven's vital seed cast on the womb of Earth That never will decay Till Heaven itself shall melt away, And nought behind it stay. Begin the song, and strike the living lyre; Who e'er but Daedalus with waxen wings could fly, Lo! how the Years to come, a numerous and And neither sink too low nor soar too high? What could he who follow'd claim, But of vain boldness the unhappy fame, And by his fall a sea to name? VOL. VII. well-fitted quire, All hand in hand do decently advance, And to my song with smooth and equal mea sures dance! 130 Whilst the dance lasts, how long soe'er it be, In the last trumpet's dreadful sound: [bring, Then all the wide-extended sky, And he himself shall see in one fire shine Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Sentences, And innocent Loves, and pleasant Truths, and In all their gaudy liveries. Mount, glorious queen! thy travelling throne, For long, though cheerful, is the way, And life, alas! allows but one ill winter's day. Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by Where never foot of man, or hoof of beast, hands divine. Whom thunder's dismal noise, And all that prophets and apostles louder spake, When dead t' arise; And open tombs, and open eyes, Some from birds, from fishes some; And, where th' attending soul naked and shivering stands, Meet, salute, and join their hands; The mountains shake, and run about no less confus'd than they. Stop, stop, my Muse! allay thy vigorous heat, Kindled at a hint so great; Hold thy Pindaric Pegasus closely in, Which does to rage begin, And this steep hill would gallop up with violent course; Tis an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse, Fierce and unbroken yet, Impatient of the spur or bit; Now prances stately, and anou flies o'er the place; But flings writer and reader too, that sits not sure. THE MUSE. Go, the rich chariot instantly prepare ; Let the postillion Nature mount, and let And let the airy footmen, running all beside, The passage press'd; Where never fish did fly, And with short silver wings cut the low liquid sky; Row through the trackless ocean of the air; Where never yet did pry The busy Morning's curious eye; The wheels of thy bold coach pass quick and free, Is all thy plain and smooth uninterrupted way! known, Thou hast thousand worlds too of thine own. Thou speak'st, great queen! in the same style as he; And a new world leaps forth when thou say'st, "Let it be." Thou fathom'st the deep gulf of ages past, And canst pluck up with ease The years which thou dost please; Like shipwreck'd treasures, by rude tempests cast Long since into the sea, Brought up again to light and public use by thee, But fly With an unwearied wing the other way on high, Through the firm shell and the thick white, dost spy Years to come a-forming lie, Close in their sacred fecundine asleep, Till hatch'd by the Sun's vital heat, And, ripe at last, with vigorous might Break through the shell, and take their everlast. ing flight! And sure we may The same too of the present say, If past and future times do thee obey. Thy verse does solidate and crystallize, Nay, thy immortal rhyme |