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and delicate variations, which he might otherwise have passed over; and I would not anticipate the pleasure he will receive from his own discoveries of this kind. An ample store of beauties lies open for his inspection, and he will probably find reason to flatter himself, that in this species of poetry, as well as in every other, the English follow the claslic antients with a bold and vigorous step, and strain hard for the palm of victory,
The youth that fondly fits by thee ;
'Twas this depriv’d my soul of reft,
* Though it may seem irregular to begin a collection of English Songs with an ode of Sappho, yet I am tempted to do it on account of the excellence of the translation, which has almost the merit of an original, and that the reader may have so nearly in his view a pattern of perfection with which he may compare the rest,
My bosom glow'd, a subtle flame
dim eyes a darkness hung, My ears with hollow murmurs rung.
In dewy damps my limbs were chillid,
I bow before thine altar, Love ;
For while I gaze, my bofom glows,
My fault'ring tongue attempts in vain
My tongue fome secret magic ties,
Condemn'd to nurse eternal care,
H! the shepherd's mournful fate!
When doom'd to love, and doom'd to languish, To bear the scornful fair one's hate,
Nor dare disclose his anguish.
My secret soul discover,
Reveals how much I love her.
O'erspread with rifing blushes,
For oh ! that form so heavenly fair,
Those languid eyes so sweetly smiling,
So artfully beguiling!
So charms whene'er I view thee,
Still will my hopes pursue thee :
Be this last blessing given,
O, tell Amynta, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dare complain ;