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perhaps, be put into the list of Pancirolus, among the lost inventions of antiquity. This essay is but to try how it will look in an English habit : for which experiment, I have chosen one of his Olympick, and another of his Nemæan Odes; which are as followeth.

THE SECOND OLYMPICK ODE

OF

PINDAR.

Written in praise of Theron, prince of Agrigentum (a famous city in Sicily, built by his ancestors), who, in the seventy-seventh Olympick, won the chariot-prize. He is commended from the nobility of his race (whose story is often toucht on); from his great riches (an ordinary common-place in Pindar); from his hospitality, munificence, and other virtues. The Ode (according to the constant custom of the Poet) consists more in digressions than in the main subject: and the Reader must not be choqued to hear him speak so often of his own Muse; for that is a liberty which this kind of poetry can hardly live without.

QUEEN of all harmonious things,

Dancing words, and speaking strings! What God, what Hero, wilt thou sing? What happy man to equal glories bring? Begin, begin thy noble choice,

And let the hills around reflect the image of thy voice. Pisa does to Jove belong;

Jove and Pisa claim thy song.

The fair first-fruits of war, th' Olympick games,

Alcides offer'd-up to Jove;

Alcides too thy strings may move;

But, oh! what man to join with these can worthy prove!

Join Theron boldly to their sacred names;
Theron the next honour claims;

Theron to no man gives place,

Is first in Pisa's and in Virtue's race;

Theron there, and he alone,

Ev'n his own swift forefathers has outgone.

They through rough ways, o'er many stops they pass'd,
Till on the fatal bank at last

They Agrigentum built, the beauteous eye
Of fair-fac'd Sicily:

Which does itself i' th' river by

With pride and joy espy.

Then cheerful notes their painted years did sing,
And Wealth was one, and Honour th' other, wing;
Their genuine virtues did more sweet and clear,
In Fortune's graceful dress, appear.

To which, great son of Rhea! say
The firm word which forbids things to decay!
If in Olympus' top, where thou
Sitt'st to behold thy sacred show ;
If in Alpheus' silver flight;
If in my verse thou dost delight,
My verse, O Rhea's son! which is
Lofty as that, and smooth as this.

For the past sufferings of this noble race (Since things once past, and fled out of thine hand,

Hearken no more to thy command)

Let present joys fill up their place,

And with Oblivion's silent stroke deface

Of foregone ills the very
In no illustrious line

trace.

Do these happy changes shine

More brightly, Theron! than in thine.
So, in the crystal palaces

Of the blue-ey'd Nereides,

Ino her endless youth does please,
And thanks her fall into the seas.
Beauteous Semele does no less
Her cruel midwife, Thunder, bless;

Whilst, sporting with the Gods on high,
She' enjoys secure their company;

Plays with lightnings as they fly,

Nor trembles at the bright embraces of the Deity.

But death did them from future dangers free;
What God, alas! will caution be

For living man's security,

Or will ensure our vessel in this faithless sea?
Never did the sun as yet

So healthful a fair-day beget,

That travelling mortals might rely on it.
But Fortune's favour and her spite

Roll with alternate waves like day and night:
Vicissitudes which thy great race pursue,

E'er since the fatal son his father slew,

And did old oracles fulfil

Of Gods that cannot lye, for they foretell but their own will.

Erynnis saw 't, and made in her own seed

The innocent Parricide to bleed ;

She slew his wrathful sons with mutual blows:
But better things did then succeed,

And brave Thersander, in amends for what was past,

arose.

Brave Thersander was by none,

In war, or warlike sports, out-done.
Thou, Theron, his great virtues dost revive;
He in my verse and thee again does live.

Loud Olympus happy thee,

Isthmus and Nemæa does twice happy see;
For the well-natur'd honour there,
Which with thy brother thou didst share,
Was to thee double grown

By not being all thine own;

And those kind pious glories do deface
The old fraternal quarrel of thy race.

Greatness of mind and fortune too
Th' Olympick trophies shew:
Both their several parts must do

In the noble chace of fame ;

This without that is blind, that without this is lame. Nor is fair Virtue's picture seen aright

But in Fortune's golden light.

Riches alone are of uncertain date,

And on short man long cannot wait; The virtuous make of them the best, And put them out to Fame for interest;

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