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To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
And grivning Infamy.
That mocks the tear it forced to flow
Amid severest woe.
Lo! in the vale of years beneath,
A grisly troop are seen,
More lidcous than their queen :
Those in the deeper vitals rage :
And slow-consuming Age.
Condemn'd alike to groan ;
The' unfeeling for his own.
And happiness too swiftly flies ?
'Tis folly to be wise.
Τον φρονείν Βρoτους οδώ-
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
The bad affright, afflict the best!
And purple tyrants vainly groan
When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd, To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind, Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore :
What sorrow was, thou bad’st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others'
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe;
By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again be.
Wisdom in sable garb array'd
Immersed in rapturous thought profound,
With leaden eye that loves the ground,
With Justice, to herself severe,
Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Not circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen); With thundering voice, and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty: Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,
To soften, not to wound my heart.'
The generous spark extinct revive,
Exact my own defects to scan,
THE PROGRESS OF POESY.
A PINDARIC ODE,
Φωνάντα συνετοίσιν ες
A thousand rills their mazy progress take : The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
Ver. 1. Awake, Æolian lyre, awake] “ Awake, my glory: awake, lute and harp.” David's Psalms.
VARIATION.—“Awake, my lyre: my glory, wake.”
Pindar styles his own poetry, with its musical accompaniments, Αίοληΐς μολπή, Αιόλιδες χορδαι,
Perc Of 2
Now the rich stream of music winds along,
And frantic Passions hear thy soft control.
Te 0 TH 0 10 F N
Alonídwy aroui aurav,' Æolian song, Æolian strings, the breath of the Æolian flute.'
The subject and simile, as usual with Pindar, are united. The various sources of poetry, which give life and lustre to all it touches, are here described ; its quiet majestic progress enriching every subject (otherwise dry and barren) with a pomp of diction and luxuriant harmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swoln and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous passions.
Ver. 13. Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul] Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul. The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Piudar.