By all the chiefs in Freedom's battles loft; That swiftly whirling through the walks of war, By fierce BONDUCA's fhield, and foaming steeds; Be ALBION still thy joy! with her remain, The Revenge of AMERICA. WH By the Same. WHEN fierce PISARRO'S legions flew Struck with his bleeding people's woes, Old India's aweful Genius rofe. He fat on Andes' topmost stone, And heard a thousand nations groan; VOL. IV. P He He broke his arrows, ftampt the ground, What woes, he cry'd, hath luft of gold With lucre's univerfal thirst: The rage that sweeps my fons away, My baneful gold shall well repay. The Dying INDIAN. By the Same. HE dart of Izdabel prevails!. 'twas dipt TH In double poison-I fhall foon arrive At the bleft island, where no tigers spring On heedlefs hunters; where anana's bloom Thrice Thrice in each moon; where rivers fmoothly glide, I feel the venom busy in my breast, Approach, and bring my crown, deck'd with the teeth Thy much-lov'd mother from the defart woods, &X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*XX ODE occafion'd by Reading Mr. WEST'S Tranflation of PINDAR. A By the Same. I. 1. LBION exult! thy fons a voice divine have heard, The man of Thebes hath in thy vales appear'd! Hark! with fresh rage and undiminish'd fire, The sweet enthufiaft fmites the British lyre; The founds that echoed on Alphéus' streams, Reach the delighted ear of liftening Thames; Lo! fwift across the dufty plain Great Theron's foaming courfers strain ! What mortal tongue e'er roll'd along Such full impetuous tides of nervous song? I. 2. The fearful, frigid lays of cold and creeping Art, We We long to fit with heroes old, 'Mid groves of vegetable gold, • Where Cadmus and Achilles dwell, And still of daring deeds and dangers tell. I. 3. Away, enervate bards, away, Who fpin the courtly, filken lay, As wreaths for fome vain Louis' head, No more your polish'd lyrics boast, с The glimmerings of a waxen flame, To his own Ætna's fulphur-spouting caves, When to heav'n's vault the fiery deluge raves, When clouds and burning rocks dart thro'the troubled air. II. 1. In roaring cataracts down Andes' channel'd fteeps Mark how enormous Orellana fweeps! Monarch of mighty floods! fupremely ftrong, |