CHR

STROPHE

HIEF of Nature's works divine, Water claims the highest praife: Richeft offspring of the mine,

Gold, like fire, whofe flashing rays From afar confpicuous gleam

Through the night's involving cloud,. 'Firft in luftre and esteem,

Decks the treafures of the proud:

So among the lifts of fame

Pifa's honour'd games excell;. Then to Pifa's glorious name

Tune, O Mufe, thy founding fhell.

ANTIS TROPHE I..

Who along the defert air

Seeks the faded starry train,

When the fun's meridian car

Round illumes th' æthereal plain?
Who a nobler theme can chufe
Than Olympia's facred Games?
What more apt to fire the Mufe,
When her various fongs fhe frames?
Songs in ftrains of wifdom dret

Great Saturnius to record,

And by each rejoicing guest
Sung at Hiero's feaftful board..

E PODE I.

In paftoral Sicilia's fruitful foil

The righteous fceptre of imperial power Great Hiero wielding, with illuftrious toil Plucks every blooming virtue's faireft flower, His royal fplendour to adorn :

Nor doth his fkilful hand refuse

Acquaintance with the tuneful Mufe, When round the mirthful board the harp is borne,

STROPHE II.

Down then from the glittering nail

Take, O Mufe, thy Dorian lyre; If the love of Pifa's vale

Pleafing transports can infpire; Or the rapid-footed freed

Could with joy thy bofom move,
When, unwhipp'd, with native speed
O'er the dusty course he drove;
And where deck'd with olives flows,
Alpheus, thy immortal flood,

On his lord's triumphant brows
The Olympick wreath beftow'd:

ANTIS TROPHE II.

Hiero's royal brows, whofe care

Tends the courfer's noble breed;
Pleas'd to nurse the pregnant mare,
Pleas'd to train the youthful steed.

Now

Now on that heroic land

His far-beaming glories beat, Where with all his Lydian band Pelops fix'd his honour'd feat:

Pelops, by the god belov'd,

Whofe ftrong arms the globe embrace; When by Jove's high orders mov'd Clotho blefs'd the healing vafe.

E PODE II.

Forth from the cauldron to new life reftor'd,
Pleas'd with the luftre of his ivory arm
Young Pelops rofe; fo ancient tales record,
And oft these tales unheeding mortals charm ;
While gaudy Fiction, deck'd with art,
And drefs'd in every winning grace,
To Truth's unornamented face

Preferr'd, feduces oft the human heart.

Smooth inchantrefs of mankind,

Clad in whofe falfe majesty

Fables eafy credit find.

But ere long the rolling year

The deceitful tale explodes :

Then, O man, with holy fear
Touch the characters of Gods.
Of their heavenly natures fay
Nought unfeemly, nought profane,
So fhalt thou due honour pay,
So be free from guilty stain.

ANTI

ANTIS TROPHE III.

Differing then from ancient fame
I thy story will record :
How the Gods invited came
To thy father's genial board;
In his turn the holy feaft
When on Sipylus he spread;
To the tables of the bleft

In his turn with honour led.
Neptune then thy lovely face,
Son of Tantalus, furvey'd,

And with amorous embrace
Far away the prize convey'd.

E PODE III.

To the high palace of all-honour'd Jove
With Pelops fwift the golden chariot rolls.
There, like more ancient Ganymede, above
For Neptune he prepares the nectar'd bowls.
But for her vanquish'd fon in vain
When long his tender mother fought,
And tidings of his fate were brought
By none of all her much-inquiring train;

STROPHE IV.

O'er the envious realm with speed
A malicious rumour flew,
That, his heavenly guefts to feed,
Thee thy impious father flew :

In

In a cauldron's feething flood

That thy mangled limbs were cast, Thence by each voracious God

On the board in meffes plac'd. But fhall I the bleft abufe ?'

With fuch tales to ftain her fong Far, far be it from my Mufe!

Vengeance waits th' unhallow'd tongue.

ANTIS TROPHE

Sure, if e'er to man befel

Honour from the powers divine,
Who on high Olympus dwell,
Tantalus, the lot was thine.

But, alas! his mortal fenfe
All too feeble to digeft
The delights of blifs immenfe,
Sicken'd at the heavenly feaft.
Whence, his folly to chaftife,

O'er his head with pride elate,
Jove, great father of the fkies,

Hung a rock's enormous weight.

IV.

Now vainly labouring with inceffant pains
Th' impending rock's expected fall to fhun,
The fourth diftrefsful inftance he remains

Of wretched man by impious pride undone;
Who to his mortal guests convey'd
Th' incorruptible food of Gods,
On which in their divine abodes

Himself erft feafting was immortal made.

STRO