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

With uncouth rhymes and fhapeless fculpture 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 fupply:

And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the ruftic moralift to die.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulnefs 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 inquire thy fate,

Haply fome hoary-headed Swain may fay,

Oft have we feen 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 becch
"That wreathes its old fantastic roots fo high,
"His liftlefs length at noontide would he ftretch,
"And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now finiling as in fcorn,
"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 mifs'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

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

Η

ERE 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 fend:
He gave to Mifery all he had, a tear;

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

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 POES Y.

A PINDARIC ODE.

* νανα συνελοῖσιν. ἐς

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

ADVERT

I S K MEN T.

WHEN the Author firft publifhed 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. 1.

AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake,

And give to rapture all thy trembling ftrings.;

From Helicon's harmonious fprings

A thousand fills their mazy progress take:

* Awake, my glory: awake, lute and harp.

DAVID'S PSALMS.

Pindar ftyles his own poetry with its mufical accomPanyments, Αἰολης μολπή, Αἰόλιδες χορδαίς Αἰολίδων ardal duhur. Æolian fong, Æolian ftrings, the breath of the Æolian flute.

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 fteep amain,
Headlong, impetuous, fee it pour :

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

I. 2.

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

And frantic Paffions, hear thy foft control,
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 progrefs enriching every fubject (otherwife dry and barren) with a pomp of diction and luxu riant harmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irrefiftible course, when fwoln and hurried away by the conflict 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