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Be, then, thy glorious lot to tread sublime,
THE SECOND OLYMPIONIQUE.
TO THERON OF AGRIGENTUM, VICTORIOUS IN THE CHARIOT-RACE.
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
Is not Pisa Jove's delight?
And did not Hercules, with conquest crown'd,
Th' Olympiad for an army slain,
And must we not, in Theron's right,
ANTISTROPHE I. Measures 16.
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,
And wealth, and favour flow'd, and praise,
Saturnian Jove! O Rhea's son !
Incline thine ear, propitious to my vow,
EFODE İ. Measures 10.
No power can
Through their late lineage down. Whether deeds of right or wrong,
As things not done recall,
Not even Time, the father, who produces all;
Yet can Oblivion, waiting long,
Through the length
Of prosperous times, forbid these deeds to last :
Such Arce has sweet-healing joy
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.
But, whelm'd in pleasures, find relief,
Thou, Semele, with hair a-flow,
Beauteous Ino, we are told,
Lasting life, beneath the deep,
A life within no bounds of time restrain'd.
The day when we resign our breath,
That offspring of the Sun,
Which bids us from our labours sleep,
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,
As from years
Since the predestin'd son, at Pytho nam'd,
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,
But to Polynices slain
Surviv'd Thersander, glory of his age,
And youthful contests, honour'd far,
To raise th' Adrastian house again:
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;
At Pytho and at Isthmus; where,
In twelve impetuous courses, run
EPODE III. Measures 10.
Refulgent star! to man the purest beam of light! The possessor of this store,
Far-future things discerning, knows
Obdurate wretches, once deceas'd, to immediate Consign'd, too late their pains deplore;
Ere they go,
Sits one in judgment, who pronounces right
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
Live an unlaborious life,
Nor anxious interrupt the hallow'd rest
The earth to vex, or with the prow
The bread of care in endless strife.
The few unaccustomed to wrong,
Who never broke the vow they swore,
But the souls who greatly dare,
Journeying onward in the way
Of Jupiter, in virtue still secure,
Arrive at Saturn's rais'd abode;
Round the island of the blest; where gay
The earth does golden flowers spontaneous vield;
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:
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,
Within my quiver, sounding right
To every skilful ear:
But, of the multitude, not one
In knowledge, from Nature who gain'd
ANTISTROPHE V. Measures 16.
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 aim, on Agrigentum bent,
A solemn oath I plight,
Sincere as honest minds require,
That through an hundred cireling years,
No rivalling city appears
To boast a man more frank to impart
THE FIRST ODE OF ANACREON.
THE line of Atreus will I sing;
To Cadmus will I tune the string:
The chords I change through every screw,
My lute does still my voice deny,
THE SECOND ODE.
NATURE the bull with horns supplies,
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.
Ose midnight, when the Bear did stand
And, with their labour sore opprest,
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:
"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,
Full of love-perplexing wiles,
O, goddess! from my heart remove
with looks divinely mild,
In every heavenly feature smil'd,
Though now he freeze, he soon shall burn,
A FRAGMENT OF SAPPHO.
'T was this depriv'd my soul of rest,
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.