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He broke his arrows, ftampt the ground,
What woes, he cry'd, hath luft of gold
shall meet destruction there ;
The Dying INDIA N.
By the Same.
HE dart of Izdabel prevails ! 'twas dipt
In double poison- I shall soon arrive
Down to the sea; where
forefathers feaft Daily on hearts of Spaniards ! O my fon; I feel the venom busy in my breaft, Approach, and bring my crown, deck'd with the teeth Of that boid christian who first dar'd deflour The virgins of the fun ; and, dire to tell ! Robb’d PACHACAMAC's altar of its gems ! I mark'd the spot where they interr’d this traitor, And once at midnight stole I to his tomb, And tore his carcase from the earth, and left it A prey to poisonous flies. Preserve this crown With sacred secrecy: if e'er returns Thy much-lov'd mother from the defart woods Where, as I hunted late, I hapless loft her, Cherish her age. Tell her I ne'er have worship'd With those that eat their God. And when disease Preys on her languid limbs, then kindly stab her With thine own hands, nor suffer her to linger, Like christian cowards, in a life of pain. I go! great Copac beckons me! farewell !
ODE occasion'd by Reading Mr. WEST'S
Translation of PINDAR.
By the Same,
LBION exult ! thy fons a voice divine have heard,
The man of Thebes hath in thy vales appear'd!
Lo! swift across the dusty plain
What mortal tongue e'er rollid along
Nor touch, nor can transport th' unfeeling heart;
We long to fit with heroes old,
: Where Cadmus and Achilles dwell, And still of daring deeds and dangers tell.
I. 3. Away a See 2. Olym. Od.
Away, enervate bards, away,
No more your polish'd lyrics boast,
As well might ye compare
(Emblem of verse correctly tame)
When to heaven's vault the fiery deluge raves, When clouds and burning rocks dart thro' the troubled air.
In roaring cataracts down Andes' channel'd steeps
Mark how enormous Orellana sweeps !
Round fragrant isles, and citron-groves,
And safely builds his leafy bow'r,
b Alluding to the French and Italian lyric poets. c See i. Pyth. Od.
II. 2. So II. 2.
So rapid Pindar flows.parent of the lyre,
Let me for ever thy sweet fons admire!
And him, who paints th' incestuous king,
Teach me to taste their charms refind,
The peaceful poet please ;
d Hor. Od. 3.