What likewise Lucretius?

Insignemque meo capiti petere inde Coronam
Unde priùs nulli velârunt tempora Musa.”

What also Ovid?

"Jamque Opus exegi," &c.

What moreover Horace?

"Exegi Monumentum ære perennius, &c.

What Ennius?

66

"Nemo me lacrumis decoret nec funera fletu," &c.

What again the great Father of Poetry, Homer, in his delightful Hymn, that some impudent Scholiasts declare he never wrote?

-τίς δύμμιν ἀνης ἥδιστος ΑΟΙΔΩΝ

Ἐνθάδε· πωλεῖται; καὶ τέω τέρπεσθε μάλιστα;
Τυφλὸς ἀνήρ· οικεῖ δε χίω ἐνὶ παιπαλοέσση

Τοῦ πᾶσαι μετόπισθεν ἀριστευούσιν ̓Αοιδαί.

Which, with a few preceding lines omitted in the quotation, I thus a little paraphrastically and beautifully translate:

Should Curiosity at times inquire,

Who strikes with sweetest art the Muse's Lyre?

This be thine answer: 66

A poor man, stark blind;

An aged Minstrel that at Chios dwells,

Who sells and sings his Works, and sings and sells,

And leaves all other Poets far behind."

So much for my profound learning in defence of egotism; for where is the man that does not rank himself among his own Admirers?

4

Now to the point.-As Lord Macartney, with his most splendid retinue, is about to open a trade with thee, in the various articles of tin, blankets, woollen in general, &c. in favour of the two Kingdoms; why might not a literary commerce take place between the great Kien Long, and the no less celebrated Peter Pindar? Thou art a man of Rhymes; and so am I. Thou art a genius of uncommon versatility: so am I. Thou art an enthusiast to the Muses: so am I. Thou art a lover of novelty: so am I. Thou art an idolater of Royalty: so am 1. With such a congeniality of mind, in my God's name and thine, let us surprise the World with an interchange of our Lucubrations, both for its improvement and delight. And to show thee that I am not a literary Swindler, unable to repay thee for goods I may receive from thy Imperial Majesty, I now transmit specimens of my talents in Ode, Ballad, Elegy, Fable, and Epigram.

I am, dear Kien Long,

Thy humble Servant, and Brother-poet,

P. PINDAR.

ODES TO KIEN LONG.

ODE I.

Peter complimenteth Kien Long on his poetical Talent, and condemneth the Want of literary Taste in western Kings.

DEAR Emperor, Prince of Poets, noble Bard,
Thy brother Peter sendeth thee a card,

To

say thou art an honour to the times: Yes, Peter telleth thee, that for a King, Indeed a most extraordinary thing,

Thou really makest very charming Rhymes.

Witness thy Moukden*, which we all admire;
Witness thy pretty little Ode to Tea,
Composed when sipping by thy Tartar fire;
Witness thy many a Madrigal and Glee.

Believe me, venerable, good Kien Long,
Vast is my pleasure that the Muse's Song

• A favourite City of the Emperor.

Divinely soundeth through thy Tartar groves; Still greater, that the first of Eastern Kings

Should praise,in Rhyme the Tartar vales and springs,
And pay a tuneful tribute to the Loves.

Yet how it hurts my Classic soul to find
Some Western Kings to Poetry unkind!—

What though they want the skill to make a riddle, Charade, or rebus, or conundrum? Still

Those Kings might show towards them some good will,
And nobly patronize Apollo's Fiddle.

But no: the note is, "How go Sheep a score?
What, what's the price of Bullocks? how sells Lamb?

I want a Boar, a Boar, I want a Boar;

I want a Bull, a Bull; I want a Ram."-
Whereas it should be this: "I want a Bard,
To cover him with honour and reward."

Kings deem, ah me! a grunting Herd of Swine
Companions sweeter than the tuneful Nine:
Preferring to Fame's Dome a Hog-sty's mire;
The Roar of Oxen, to Apollo's Lyre.

"Lord! is it possible?" I hear thee groan.
Kien Long, 'tis true as thou art on thy Throne.
For souls like thine, 'tis natural to doubt it:
Macartney can inform thee all about it..