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With screaming Horror's funeral cry,
Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence im part, Thy philofophic Train be there,
To soften, not to wound the heart, The gen’rçus spark extinct revive, Teach me to love and to forgive, Exact my own defects to scan, What others are, to feel, and know myself a Man.
THE Τ Η Ε
PROGRESS of POESY.
Φωναντα συνετοίσιν' ές
PINDAR, Olymp. II.
ADVERTISEMENT. When the Author firft publifhed this and
the following Ode, he was advised, even by his Friends, to subjoin fome few explanatory Notes; but he had too much respect for the understanding of his Readers to take that liberty.
* AWAKE, Æolian Tyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling
* Awake, up my glory : awake, Jute and harp.
The laughing flow'rs, that round them blow,
The subject and fimile, as usual with Pindar, are united. The various sources of poetry, which gives life and luftre to all it touches, are here described ; its quiet majestic progress enriching every subject (otherwise dry and barren) with a pomp of diftion and luxuriant liarmony of numbers ; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swoln and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous paffrons.