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Τον φρονεϊν 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 heav'nly 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' woe.
Scar'd at thy frown terrisic, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
Light they disperse, and with them go
By vain Prosperity receiv'd,
Wisdom in sable garb array'd,
Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,
With leaden eye that loves the ground,
With Justice, to herself severe,
Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head,
Dread goddess, lay thy chast’ning hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Not circled with the vengeful band
With screaming Horror's fun’ral cry,
Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there
To softeu, not to wound my heart. The gen'rous spark extinct revive, Teach me to love, and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a Man.
DRAWN BY RICHARD WESTALLRA. ENGRAVED BY GEORGE CORBOULD: PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE, PICCADILLY;
THE PROGRESS OF POESY.
A PINDARIC ODE.
Φωνάντα συνετοίσιν ες
A thousand rills their mazy progress take:
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 accompani1ments, Αίοληΐς μολπή, Αιόλιδες χορδαί, Αιολίδων πνοαι αυλών, Eolian 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 barmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swoln and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous passions.