Still on thy folemn steps attend:

Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,

With Juftice, to herself fevere,

And Pity, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear.

O, gently on thy fuppliant's head,

Dread Goddess, lay thy chaft'ning hand!

Not in thy Gorgon-terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful band,

(As by the impious thou art feen),

With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,

With screaming Horror's fun'ral cry,

Defpair, and fell Disease, and ghaftly Poverty.

Thy

Thy form benign, O Goddefs, wear,

Thy milder influence impart,

Thy philofophic train be there,

To foften, not to wound my heart

The gen'rous fpark extinct revive;

Teach me to love, and to forgive,

Exact my own defects to fcan,

What others aré, to feel, and know myself a' man.

THE

PROGRESS OF POESY.

A

PINDARIC ODE.

Φωνάνα συνελοῖσιν· ἐς

Δὲ τὸ πῶν ἑρμηνέων

Xalige.

PINDAR, Olymp. II.

E 2

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When the author first published this and the following ode, he was advised, even by his friends, to fubjoin some few explanatory notes; but had too much respect for the understanding of his readers to take that liberty.