From what monfters he should free What mighty tyrants he should slay, How much at Phlægra's field the diftreft Gods should owe And how his club fhould there outdo Apollo's filver bow, and his own father's thunder too. And that the grateful Gods, at last, The race of his laborious virtue past, Heaven, which he fav'd, fhould to him give ; Where, marry'd to eternal youth, he fhould for ever live ; Drink nectar with the Gods, and all his fenfes please In their harmonious, golden palaces; Walk with ineffable delight Through the thick groves of never-withering light, The lion and the bear, Bull, centaur, fcorpion, all the radiant monsters there. THE PRAISE OF PINDAR. In imitation of HORACE's fecond Ode, B. IV. "Pindarum quifquis ftudet æmulari, &c." PINDAR is imitable by none; The Phoenix Pindar is a vast species alone. Who e'er but Dædalus with waxen wings could fly, And neither fink too low nor foar too high? What What could he who follow'd claim, But of vain boldness the unhappy fame, And by his fall a fea to name? Pindar's unnavigable fong Like a fwoln flood from fome steep mountain pours along; The ocean meets with fuch a voice, From his enlarged mouth, as drowns the ocean's noise. So Pindar does new words and figures roll Which in no channel deigns t' abide, Or the great acts of God-descended kings, Which their triumphant brows around, Whether at Pifa's race he pleafe To carve in polifh'd verfe the conqueror's images; Such mournful, and fuch pleafing words, He bids him live and grow in fame; Lo, how th' obfequious wind, and swelling air, Into the walks of clouds, where he does play, Does with weak, unballast wings, For little drops of honey flee, And there with humble fweets contents her industry. N THE RESURRECTION. OT winds to voyagers at fea, Nor showers to earth, more neceffary be (Heaven's vital feed caft on the womb of earth To give the fruitful year a birth) Than Verfe to Virtue; which can do 'The midwife's office and the nurfe's too; 3 It It feeds it strongly, and it clothes it gay, Embalms it, and erects a pyramid Till heaven itself fhall melt away, And nought behind it stay. Begin the fong, and strike the living lyre ; Lo! how the years to come, a numerous and well-fitted quire, All hand in hand do decently advance, And to my song with smooth and equal measures dance! In the last trumpet's dreadful found : Then all the wide-extended sky, And all th' harmonious worlds on high, And Virgil's facred work, fhall die; And he himself fhall fee in one fire fhine Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by hands. divine. Whom thunder's difmal noife, And all that prophets and apostles louder fpake,. Could not, whilft they liv'd, awake, C 4 When When dead t' arise; And open tombs, and open eyes, To the long fluggards of five thousand years! Some from birds, from fifhes fome; Some from metals upwards fly, And, where th' attending foul naked and shivering ftands, Meet, falute, and join their hands; Unhappy moft, like tortur'd men, The mountains shake, and run about no less confus'd than they. Stop, stop, my Mufe! allay thy vigorous heat, Hold thy Pindaric Pegasus closely in, Which does to rage begin, And this steep hill would gallop up with violent courfe; 'Tis an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse, Fierce |