"The lyre, and founding bow, and to declare "The Thund'rer's counfels, be Apollo's care!"

He fpake; and onwards all majestic strode;
The Queens of Heaven awe-ftruck view'd the God.
Delos beheld him with a tender fmile,
And hail'd, enrich'd with gold, her happy ifle;
Her happy ifle, Apollo's native feat,

His facred haunt, his beft-belov'd retreat.
Grac'd with Apollo, Delos glorious fhines,
As the tall mountain crown'd with stately pines.

Now ftony Cynthus wou'd the God ascend, And now his courfe to various iflands bend. Full many a fane, and rock, and fhady grove, River, and mountain did Apollo love;

But chiefly Delos: The Ionians there,

With their chafte wives and prattling babes, repair.
There gladly celebrate Apollo's name

With many a folemn rite and facred game;
The jolly dance and holy hymn prepare,
And with the Cæftus urge the manly war.
If, when their facred feast th' Ionians hold,
Their gallant fports a ftranger fhou'd behold,
View the ftrong nerves the brawny chiefs that brace,
Or eye the fofter charms of female grace;

Then

Then mark their riches of a thoufand kinds,
And their tall fhips born fwift before the winds,
So goodly to the fight wou'd all appear,
The fair affembly Gods he wou'd declare.
There too the Delian Virgins, beauteous choir,
Apollo's handmaids, wake the living lyre ;
To Phoebus first they confecrate the lays,
Latona then and chafte Diana praise,
Then heroes old, and matrons chafte rehearse,
And footh the raptur'd heart with facred verfe.
Each voice, the Delian maids, each human found
With apteft imitation fweet refound:

Their tongues fo justly tune with accents new,
That none the false diftinguish from the true.

Latona! Phoebus! Dian, lovely fair!
Bleft Delian nymphs, Apollo's chiefest care,
All hail! and O with praise your poet crown,
Nor all his labours in oblivion drown!

If haply fome poor pilgrim fhall enquire,
"O, virgins, who most skilful smites the lyre?
"Whose lofty verse in sweetest descant rolls,
"And charms to extafy the hearers fouls ?"
O anfwer, a blind bard in Chios dwells,
In all the arts of verfe who far excells.

Then

Then o'er the earth fhall spread my glorious fame,
And diftant Nations fhall record my name.
But Phoebus never will I cease to fing,
Latona's noble fon, the mighty Bowyer-king.

Thee Lycia and Mæonia, thee, great Pow'r,
The bleft Miletus' habitants adore;
But thy lov'd haunt is fea-girt Delos' fhore.

Now Pytho's ftony foil Apollo treads, And all around ambrofial fragrance sheds,

}

Then ftrikes with matchless art the golden ftrings, And ev'ry hill with heavenly mufick rings.

Olympus now and the divine abodes

Glorious he feeks, and mixes with the Gods.
Each heavenly bofom pants with fond defire
To hear the lofty verse and golden lyre.
Drawn by the magic sound, the Virgin-Nine
With warblings sweet the sacred minstrel join :
Now with glad heart, loud voice, and jocund
lays

Full fweetly carol bounteous heaven's praise;
And now in dirges fad, and numbers flow
Relate the piteous tale of human woe;

Woe,

Woe, by the Gods on wretched mortals caft,
Who vainly fhun affliction's wintry blast,

And all in vain attempt with fond delay

Death's certain fhaft to ward, or chafe old age

away.

The Graces there, and fmiling Hours are feen, And Cytherea, laughter-loving queen,

And Harmony, and Hebe, lovely band,

To fprightlieft measures dancing hand in hand.
There, of no common port or vulgar mien,
With heavenly radiance, fhines the Huntrefs-
Queen,

Warbles refponfive to the golden lyre,

Tunes her glad notes, and joins the virgin choir. There Mars and Mercury with aukward play, And uncouth gambols, wafte the live-long day.

There as Apollo moves with graceful pace
A thousand glories play around his face ;
In fplendor drest he joins the festive band,
And sweeps the golden lyre with magic hand.
Mean while, Latona and imperial Jove
Eye the bright Godhead with parental love;

And,

And, as the Deities around him play,

Well pleas'd his goodly mien and awful port furvey*.

*The tranflator, when he begun this piece, had fome thoughts of giving a complete English version of all Homer's Hymns, being the only parts of his works never yet tranflated; but (to fay nothing of his opinion of this fpecimen of his tranflation) fearing that this fpecies of poetry, though it has its beauties, and does not want admirers among the learned, would appear far lefs agreeable to the mere English reader, he defifted. They, who would form the jufteft idea of this fort of compofition among the ancients, may be better informed, by perufing Dr. Akenfide's most claffical Hymn to the Naiads, than from any tranflation of Homer or Callimachus,

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