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Be, then, thy glorious lot to tread sublime,
With steady step, the measur'd tract of time;
Pe mine, with the prize-bearing worthies to mix,
In Greece, throughout the learned throng,
Proclaim'd unrival'd in my song.

THE SECOND OLYMPIONIQUE.

TO THERON OF AGRIGENTUM, VICTORIOUS IN THE CHARIOT-RACE.

ARGUMENT.

He praises Theron king of Agrigentum, on account of the victory obtained in the Olympic games, with a chariot and four horses; likewise for his justice, his hospitality, his fortitude, and the illustriousness of his ancestors, whose adventures are occasionally mentioned: then he interweaves digressions to Semele, Ino, Peleus, Achilles, and others, and describes the future state of the righteous and of the wicked. Lastly, he concludes with extolling his own skill in panegyric, and the benevolence and liberality of Theron.

STROPHE I. Measures 16.

SOVEREIGN hymns, whose numbers sway
The sounding harp, what god, what hero, say,
What man, shall we resound?

Is not Pisa Jove's delight?

And did not Hercules, with conquest crown'd,
To him ordain

Th' Olympiad for an army slain,
Thank-offering of the war?

And must we not, in Theron's right,
Exert our voice, and swell our song?
Theron, whose victorious car
Four coursers whirl, fleeting along,
To stranger-guests indulgent host,
Of Agrigentum the support and boast,
Cities born to rule and grace,
Fair blossom of his ancient ráce,

ANTISTROPHE I. Measures 16.
Worthies sore perplex'd in thought,

[sought,

Till, wandering far, they found, what long they

A sacred seat, fast by

Where the stream does rapid run,

And reign'd, of Sicily the guardian eye,
When happy days,

And wealth, and favour flow'd, and praise,
That in-born worth inflames.

Saturnian Jove! O Rhea's son !
Who o'er Olympus dost preside,
And the pitch of lofty games,
And Alpheus, of rivers the pride,
Rejoicing in my songs, do thou

Incline thine ear, propitious to my vow,
Blessing, with a bounteous hand,
The rich hereditary land

EFODE İ. Measures 10.

No power can

Through their late lineage down. Whether deeds of right or wrong,

[actions past,

As things not done recall,

Not even Time, the father, who produces all;

Yet can Oblivion, waiting long,

Gathering strength

Through the length

Of prosperous times, forbid these deeds to last :

VOL. XIIL

Such Arce has sweet-healing joy
The festering smart of evils to destroy.
STROPHE II. Measures 16.

When felicity is sent

Down by the will supreme with full content: Thy daughters, Cadmus, they,

Greatly wretched here below,

Blest evermore, this mighty truth display.
No weight of grief,

But, whelm'd in pleasures, find relief,
Sunk in the sweet abyss.

Thou, Semele, with hair a-flow,
Thou by thunder doom'd to die,
Mingling with the gods in bliss,
Art happy, for ever on high:
Thee Pallas does for ever love,
Thee chiefly Jupiter, who rules above;
Thee thy son holds ever dear,
Thy son with the ivy-wreath'd spear.
Measures 16.

ANTISTROPHE 11.

Beauteous Ino, we are told,
With the sea-daughters dwells of Nereus old,
And has, by lot, obtain'd

Lasting life, beneath the deep,

A life within no bounds of time restrain'd.
The hour of death,

The day when we resign our breath,

That offspring of the Sun,

Which bids us from our labours sleep,
In vain do mortals seek to know,

Or who destin'd is to run

A life unentangled with woe;

For none are able to disclose

The seasons of th' uncertain ebbs and flows

Now of pleasures, now of pains,

Which hidden Fate to men ordains:

EPODE II. Measures 10.

Thus Providence, that to thy ancestry long-fam'd Portions out a pleasing share

Of heaven-sprung happiness,

Does, ceasing in another turn of time to bless,
Distribute some reverse of care,

As from years

Past appears,

Since the predestin'd son, at Pytho nam'd,
Did Laius, blindly meeting, kill,

And the oracle, of old pronounc'd, fulfil :

STROPHE it. Measures 16.

Fell Erinnys, quick to view

The deed, his warlike sons in battle slew,
Fach by the other's rage:

But to Polynices slain

Surviv'd Thersander, glory of his age,
For feats of war,

And youthful contests, honour'd far,
The scion, kept alive

To raise th' Adrastian house again:
From whence Enesidamus' heir

Does his spreading root derive,

To branch out a progeny fair;

Who, springing foremost in the chase

Of Fame, demands we should his triumph grace, Tuning lyres to vocal lays,

Sweet union of melodious praise;

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At Pytho and at Isthmus; where,
Victorious both, they shar'd th' allotted crown,
Joint-honour, won

In twelve impetuous courses, run
With four unwearied steeds.
To vanquish in the strife serere
Does all anxiety destroy:
And to this, if wealth succeeds
With virtues enamell'd, the joy
Luxuriant grows; such affluence
Does glorious opportunities dispense,
Giving depth of thought to find
Pursuits which please a noble mind.

EPODE III. Measures 10.

Refulgent star! to man the purest beam of light! The possessor of this store,

Far-future things discerning, knows

[woes

Obdurate wretches, once deceas'd, to immediate Consign'd, too late their pains deplore;

For below

Ere they go,

Sits one in judgment, who pronounces right
On crimes in this wide realm of Jove;

Whose dire decree no power can e'er remove :

STROPHE IV. Measures 16.

But the good, alike by night,

Alike by day, the Sun's unclouded light
Beholding, ever blest,

Live an unlaborious life,

Nor anxious interrupt the hallow'd rest
With spade and plow,

The earth to vex, or with the prow
The briny sea, to eat

The bread of care in endless strife.
The dread divinities among,

The few unaccustomed to wrong,

Who never broke the vow they swore,
A tearless age enjoy for evermore;
While the wicked hence depart
To torments which appall the heart:
ANTISTROPHE IV. Measures 16.

But the souls who greatly dare,
Thrice tried in either state, to persevere
From all injustice pure,

Journeying onward in the way

Of Jupiter, in virtue still secure,
Along his road

Arrive at Saturn's rais'd abode;
Where soft sea-breezes breathe

Round the island of the blest; where gay
The trees with golden blossoms glow;
Where, their brows and arms to wreathe,
Bright garlands on every side below;
For, springing thick in every field,

The earth does golden flowers spontaneous vield;
And, in every limpid stream,

The budding gold is seen to gleam:

EPODE IV. Measures 10.

Fair heritage! by righteous Rhadamanth's award: Who, coequal, takes his scat

With Saturn, sire divine,

Thy consort, Rhea, who above the rest doth shine, High-thron'd, thou matron-goddess great:

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STROPHE V. Measures 16.

He who Hector did destroy,

The pillar firm, the whole support, of Troy, And Cycnus gave to die,

And Aurora's Æthiop son.

My arm beneath yet many darts have 1,
All swift of flight,

Within my quiver, sounding right

To every skilful ear:

But, of the multitude, not one
Discerns the mystery unexplain'd.
He transcendent does appear

In knowledge, from Nature who gain'd
Ilis store: but the dull-letter'd crowd,
In censure vehement, in nonsense loud,
Clamour idly, wanting skill,
Like crows, in vain, provoking still

ANTISTROPHE V. Measures 16.
The celestial bird of Jove:

But, to the mark address thy bow, nor rove, My soul: and whom do I

Single out with fond desire,

At him to let illustrious arrows fly?
My fixt intent,

My aim, on Agrigentum bent,

A solemn oath I plight,

Sincere as honest minds require,

That through an hundred cireling years,
With recorded worthies bright,

No rivalling city appears

To boast a man more frank to impart
Kind offices to friends with open heart,
Or, with hand amidst his store,
Delighting to distribute more

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THE FIRST ODE OF ANACREON.
ON HIS LUTE.

THE line of Atreus will I sing;

To Cadmus will I tune the string:
But, as from string to string I move,
My lute will only sound of love.

The chords I change through every screw,
And model the whole lute anew,
Once more, in song, my voice I raise,
And, Hercules, thy toils I praise:

My lute does still my voice deny,
And in the tones of love reply.
"Ye heroes then, at once farewell:
Loves only echo from my shell."

THE SECOND ODE.
ON WOMEN.

NATURE the bull with horns supplies,
The horse with hoofs she fortifies,

The fleeting foot on hares bestows, On lions teeth, two dreadful rows ! Grants fish to swim, and birds to fly, And on their skill bids men rely.

Women alone defenceless live; To women what does Nature give? Beauty she gives instead of darts, Beauty, instead of shields, imparts; Nor can the sword, nor fire, oppose The fair, victorious where she goes.

THE THIRD ODE.
ON LOVE.

Ose midnight, when the Bear did stand
A-level with Bootes' hand,

And, with their labour sore opprest,
The race of men were laid to rest,

Then to my doors, at unawares,

Came Love, and tried to force the bars.

"Who thus assails my doors?" I cried: "Who breaks my slumbers?" Love replied, "Open: a child alone is here!

A little child-you need not fear:
Here through the moonless night I stray,
And, drench'd in rain, have lost my way."
Then mov'd to pity by his plight,
Too much in haste my lamp I light,
And open: when a child I see,
A little child he seem'd to me;
Who bore a quiver, and a bow;
And wings did to his shoulders grow:
Within the hearth I bid him stand,
Then chafe and cherish either hand
Between my palms, and wring, with care,
The trickling water from his hair.

"Now come," said he, no longer chill, "We'll bend this bow, and try our skill, And prove the string, how far its power Remains unslacken'd by the shower."

He bends his bow, and culls his quiver, And pierces, like a breeze, my liver: Then leaping, laughing, as he fled, "Rejoice with me, my host," he said, "My bow is sourd in every part, And you shall rue it at your heart."

A HYMN TO VENUS,

FROM THE GREEK OF SAPPHO.

O VENUS, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,

Full of love-perplexing wiles,

O, goddess! from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.
If ever thou hast kindly heard
A song in soft distress preferr'd,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
O, gentle goddess! hear me now.
Descend, thou bright immortal guest,
In all thy radiant charms confest.
Thou once didst leave almighty Jove,
And all the golden roofs above:
The ear thy wanton sparrows drew;
Hovering in air they lightly flew;
As to my bower they wing'd their way,
I saw their quivering pinions play.
The birds, dismiss'd (while you remaia),
Bore back their empty car again:

Then you,

with looks divinely mild,

In every heavenly feature smil'd,
And ask'd what new complaints I made,
And why I call'd you to my aid?
What phrensy in my bosom rag'd,
And by what care to be assuag'd?
What gentle youth 1 would allure,
Whom in my artful toils secure?
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?
Though now he shuns thy longing arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted charms;
Though now thy offerings he despise,
He soon to thee shall sacrifice;

Though now he freeze, he soon shall burn,
And be thy victim in his turn.
Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore!
In pity come and ease my grief,
Bring my distemper'd soul relief:
Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires,
And give me all my heart desires.

A FRAGMENT OF SAPPHO.
BLEST as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee all the while
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.

'T was this depriv'd my soul of rest,
And rais'd such tumults in my breast;
For while 1 gaz'd, in transport tost,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.
My bosom glow'd; the subtle flame
Ran quick through all my vital frame;
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung,
My ears with hollow murmurs rung.
In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd,
My blood with gentle horrours thrill'd;
My feeble pulse forgot to play,

I fainted, sunk, and died away.

TO MR AMBROSE PHILIPS, ON HIS DISTREST MOTHER. ANONYMOUS; FROM STEELE'S COLLECTION. LONG have the writers of this warlike age With human sacrifices drench'd the stage; That scarce one hero dares demand applause, Till, weltering in his blood, the ground he gnaws: As if, like swans, they only could delight With dying strains, and, while they please, affright. Our Philips, though 't were to oblige the fair, Dares not destroy, where Horace bids him spare: His decent scene like that of Greece appears; No deaths our eyes offend, no fights our ears. While he from Nature copies every part, He forms the judgment, and affects the heart. Oft as Andromache renews her woe, The mothers sadden and their eyes o'erflow. Hermione, with love and rage possest, Now sooths, now animates, each maiden breast. Pyrrhus, triumphant o'er the Trojan walls, Is greatly perjur'd, and as greatly falls. Love, and Despair, and Furies are combin'd In poor Orestes, to distract his mind. From first to last, alternate passions reign; And we resist the poet's will in vain.

THE

POEMS

OP

GILBERT WEST, LL.D.

Res antiquæ laudis et artis
Ingredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes.

VIRG. Georg. ii.

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