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ΔΕ Τ Ο Π Α Ν, ΕΡ Μ Η Ν Ε Ω Ν
PINDAR, Olymp. II.
AUGHTER of Chaos and old Night,
Cimmerian Muse, all hail !
* I take the liberty of inserting the two following Odes, though I cannot, with strict propriety, print them as my own composition. The truth is, they were written in concert with a friend, to whose labours I am always happy to add my own: I mean the Author of the Jealous Wife.
What Poet sings, and strikes the strings ?
He from the ever-living Lyre
With magic hand elicits fire. Heard
the din of Modern Rhimers bray ? It was cool M--n: or warm G-y,
Involv'd in tenfold smoke.
The shallow Fop in antic vest,
Tir’d of the beaten road, Proud to be singularly drest, Changes, with every changing moon, the mode. Say, shall not then the heav'n-born Muses too
Variety pursue ? Shall not applauding critics hail the vogue ? Whether the Muse the stile of Cambria’s fons,
Or the rude gabble of the Huns,
Or the broader dialect
Of Caledonia she affect,
On this terreftial ball
The tyrant, Fashion, governs all.
Long she paid him with disdain,
Ever changing, ever ranging,
Perch'd on the dubious height, She loves to ride,
Upon a weather-cock, astride.
Emblem of her magic pow'r,
The light Cameleon stands confest,
And in a vest is she array’d,
Nor zoneless is her waist :
As the ceftos-cinctur'd Queen,
She bids pursue the fav’rite road
Of lofty cloud-capt Ode.
But one of nobler breed.
From Tottipontimoy He came,
* His White-nose. He on fam'd Doncastria’s plains
Resign'd his fated breath :
Ah! who can run the race with death?
Strives all in vain to fly.
We stumble, fall, and die.
Third from Whitenose springs
Pegasus with eagle wings :
With many a bound he beats the ground,
He too Newmarket won.
* The Author is either mistaken in this place, or has else indulged himself - in a very unwarrantable poetical licence. Whitenose was not the Sire, but a Son of the Godolphin Arabian. See my Calendar.