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Yet ev'n these bones from infult to protect
Some frail memorial ftill erected nigh,

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the paffing tribute of a figh.

Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Mufe,
The place of fame and elegy supply:

And many a holy text around fhe ftrews,
That teach the ruftic moralift to die.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleafing anxious being e'er refign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor caft one longing lingering look behind?
On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the clofing eye requires;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
* Ev'n in our afhes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead,
Doft in thefe lines their artlefs tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred Spirit fhall enquire thy fate,
Haply fome hoary-headed Swain may fay,
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
"Brufhing with hafty fteps the dews away
"To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.

*Ch'i veggio nel penfier, dolce mio fuoco,
"Fredda una lingua, & due begli occhi chiufi
"Rimaner doppo noi pien di faville."

PETRARCH, SON. 169.

"There

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
"That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
"His liftlefs length at noontide would he stretch,
"And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.

"Hard by yon wood, now fmiling as in fcorn,

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Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove, "Now drooping woeful wan, like one forlorn, "Or craz❜d with care, or crofs'd in hopeless love. "One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; "Another came; nor yet befide the rill, "Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

"The next with dirges due in fad array

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"Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canft read) the lay, "Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH,

HERE refts his head upon the lap of Earth

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown,
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heaven did a recompence as largely send :
He gave to Mifery all he had, a tear;'

He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

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No farther feek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(*There they alike in trembling hope repofe,)
The bofom of his Father and his God.

preventofa fpeme.

PETRARCH. SON. 114

THE

THE

PROGRESS OF POESY.

A PINDARIC O D E.

Φωνᾶνα συνελοῖσιν. ἐς

Δὲ τὸ πᾶν ἑρμηνέων χαλίζει. PINDAR. OLYMP. II.

ADVERTISE MEN T..

WHEN the Author first published this and the following Ode, he was advised, even by his Friends, to fubjoin fome few explanatory Notes; but had too much respect for the understanding of his Readers to take that liberty.

I. t.

AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake,

And give to rapture all thy trembling ftrings.

From Helicon's harmonious fprings

A thousand rills their mazy progress take :

* Awake, my glory awake, lute and harp.

DAVID'S PSALMS.

Pindar ftyles his own poetry with its mufical accompanyments, Αἰοληὶς μολπὴ, Αἰόλιδες χορδαὶ, Αἰολίδων πνοαὶ ἀυλῶν. Eolian fong, Æolian strings, the breath of the Æolian flute.

The

The laughing flowers, that round them blow,
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.

Now the rich stream of mufic winds along,
Deep, majeftic, fmooth, and ftrong,

Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign:
Now rolling down the steep amain,

Headlong, impetuous, fee it pour :

The rocks, and nodding groves, rebellow to the roar.

I. 2.

* Oh! Sovereign of the willing foul, Parent of fweet and folemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! the fullen Cares,

And frantic Paffions, hear thy foft controul,
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War
Has curb'd the fury of his car,

And drop'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
+ Perching on the scepter'd hand

The fubject and fimile, as ufual with Pindar, are united. The various fources of poetry, which gives life and luftre to all it touches, are here defcribed; its quiet majestic progress enriching every subject (otherwife dry and barren) with a pomp of diction and luxuriant harmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irrefiftible courfe, when fwoln and hurried away by the conAlict of tumultuous paffions.

* Power of harmony to calm the turbulent fallies of the foul. The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar.

This is a faint imitation of fome incomparable lines in the fame Ode.

Of

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