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I. 3.

Away, enervate Bards, away,

Who fpin the courtly, filken lay,

As wreaths for fome vain Louis' head,
Or mourn fome foft Adonis dead:

No more your polish'd Lyricks boast,
In British Pindar's ftrength o'erwhelm'd and loft:
As well might ye compare

The glimmerings of a waxen flame
(Emblem of Verse correctly tame)

To his own Ætna's fulphur-spouting caves,
When to Heaven's vault the fiery deluge raves,

When clouds and burning rocks dart through the trou

bled air.

II. I.

In roaring Cataracts down Andes' channel'd fteeps
Mark how enormous Orellana sweeps!

Monarch of mighty Floods! fupremely ftrong,
Foaming from cliff to cliff he whirls along,
Swoln with an hundred hills' collected fnows:
Thence over nameless regions widely flows,
Round fragrant ifles, and citron-groves,
Where ftill the naked Indian roves,
And safely builds his leafy bower,

From flavery far, and curft Iberian power;

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*Alluding to the French and Italian Lyrick Pocts.

† See Pyth. Od.

132 ODE ON WEST'S PINDAR, &c.

II. 2.

So rapid Pindar flows.-O Parent of the Lyre,
Let me for ever thy fweet fons admire!

O ancient Greece, but chief the Bard whose lays
The matchlefs tale of Troy divine emblaze;
And next Euripides, foft pity's priest,

Who melts in useful Woes the bleeding breaft
And him, who paints th' incestuous king,
Whofe foul amaze and horror wring;
Teach me to taste their charms refin'd,
The richest banquet of th' enraptur'd mind:

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II. 3.

For the bleft man, the Mufe's child On whose auspicious birth the fmil'd, Whofe foul fhe form'd of purer fire, For whom she tun'd a golden lyre, Seeks not in fighting fields renown: No widows' midnight shrieks, nor burning town, The peaceful Poet please:

Nor ceafelefs toils for fordid gains,

Nor purple pomp, nor wide domains,

Nor heaps of wealth, nor power, nor ftatesman's

schemes,

Nor all deceiv'd ambition's feverish dreams,

Lure his contented heart from the fweet vale of eafe.

* Hor. lib. IV. Od. iii.

ODES

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THE FIRST OLYMPICK ODE.

This Ode is infcribed to Hiero of Syracufe, who, in the Seventy-third Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Race of Single Horses.

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THE fubject of this Ode being a victory obtained by Hiero in the Olympick Games, Pindar fet out with fhewing the fuperiority and pre-eminence of thofe Games over all others; among which, he says, they hold the same rank, as Water (which, according to the opinion of Thales and other Philofophers, was the original of all things) among the elements, and Gold among the gifts of Fortune. Wherefore, continues he, O my heart, if thou art inclined to fing of Games, it would be as abfurd to think of any other but the Olympick Games,

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Games, as to look for ftars in the fky when the fun is fhining in his meridian glory; especially as all the Guests at Hiero's table (among which number it is not improbable that Pindar was one at this time) are finging Odes upon that fubject. From the mention of Hiero, he falls into a short panegyrick upon his virtues, and then paffes to what gave occafion to this Ode, viz. his Olympick victory; under which head: he makes honourable mention of his horfe Phrenicus (for that was his name), who gained the victory, and spread his master's glory as far as Pisa, or Olympia, the ancient refidence of Pelops the fon of Tantalus; into a long account of whom he digreffes; and ridiculing, as abfurd and impious, the ftory of his having been cut in pieces by his father Tantalus, boiled and ferved up at an entetainment given by him to the gods, relates another ftory, which he thought more to the honour both of Pelops and the Gods. This relation he concludes with the account of Pelops vanquishing Oenomaus, king of Pifa, in the chariot-race, and by that victory gaining his daughter Hippodamia, fettling at Pifa, and being there honoured as a God. From this relation the Poet falls again naturally into an account of the Olympick Games, and, after a short reflection upon the felicity of those who gained the Olympick crown, returns to the praises of Hiero; with which, and fome occafional reflections on the profperity of Hiero, to whom he wishes a continuance of his good fortune and a long reign, he closes his Ode.

STRO

C

STROPHE I.

HIEF of Nature's works divine, Water claims the highest praise : Richeft offspring of the mine,

Gold, like fire, whofe flashing rays From afar confpicuous gleam

Through the night's involving cloud, Firft in luftre and esteem,

Decks the treasures of the proud:

So among the lifts of fame

Pifa's honour'd games excell; Then to Pifa's glorious name

Tune, O Muse, thy founding fhell.

ANTIS TROPHE I.

Who along the defert air

Seeks the faded starry train,

When the fun's meridian car

Round illumes th' æthereal plain? Who a nobler theme can chufe

Than Olympia's facred Games?

What more apt to fire the Mufe,
When her various fongs the frames ?
Songs in ftrains of wisdom drest

Great Saturnius to record,

And by each rejoicing guest
Sung at Hiero's feastful board.

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