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A PINDARIC ODE.

43

2.

III.
Nor second He.+, that rode sublime
Upon the seraph wings of ecstasy,
The secrets of th’ Abyss to spy.
He pass’d the flaming bounds of Place and

Time :
The living Throne ll, the fapphire blaze;
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw ; but blafted with excefs of light,
Clos'd his eyes in endless night.
Behold, where Dryden's lefs presumptuous

car,
Wide o'er the fields of glory bear

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+ Milton. # "---flammantia moenia mundi.” Lucret.

| For the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels. And above the firmament, that was over their heads, was the likness of a throne, as the appearance of a fapphire ftone. This was the appearance of the glo. ху of the Lord, Ezekiel 1. 20, 26, 28.

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Two Coursers of æthereal race +
With necks in thunder cloath'd I, and long-

resounding pace.

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Hark, his hands the lyre explore !
Bright-ey'd Fancy hovering o'er
Scatters from her pictur'd urn
Thoughts that breathe ll, and words that

burn.
But ah ! 'tis heard no more ---

+ Meant to express the stately march and founding energy of Dryden's rhymes. | Haft thou cloathed his neck with thunder?

Job. | Words that weep, and tears that speak,

Cowley Ś We have had in our language no other odes of the fublime kind, than that of Dryden on St Cecilia's day; for Cowley ( who had his merit) yet wanted judgment, stile, and barmony, for

such a task. That of Pope is not unworthy of so great a man; Mr Mafon indeed, of late days, bas touched the true chords, and with a masterly hand, in some of his choruses, ---above all in the last of Carattacks ;

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Oh! Lyre divine, what daring spirit
Wakes thee now? tho' he inherit

2.

“ Hark! heard you not yon footstep dread,
That shook the earth with thund'ring tread ?
'Twas Death---In haste
The warrior paft ;
High tower'd his helmed head :
I mark'd his mail, I mark'd his shield,
I spy'd the sparkling of his spear,
I saw his giant arm the faulcheon wield;
Wide wav'd the bickering blade, and fir'd
the air.

I.
" On me (he cried) my Britons ! wait.
To lead you to the fields of fate
I come. Yon'car,
That cleaves the air,
Descends to throne my state :
I mount your champion and your

God.
My proud fteed neighs beneath the thong;
Hark! to my wheels of brass, that rattle

loud !
Hark! to my clarion Thrill, that brays the
woods

among

I. 3.
Fear not now the fever's fire,
Fear not now the death-bed groan,
Pangs that torture, pains that tire,
Bed-rid

age

with feeble moan ;

Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban eagle beart,

These domestic terrors wait
Hourly at my palace gate;
And when o'er flothful realms my rod I

wave, These on the tyrant king and coward dave Rush with vindictive rage, and drag them to their

grave.

1.

II.
But you, my fons ! at this high hour
Shall Thare the fulness of my power :
From all

your bows,
In levell’d rows,
My own dread shafts shall show'r.
Go then to conquelt, gladly go,
Deal forth my dole of destiny;
With all my fury dath the trembling foc
Down to those darksome dens, where Rome's

pale spectres ly.

+ Pindar compares himself to that bird, and his enemies to ravens that croak and clamour in vain below, while it pursues its flight, regardless of their noise.

A PINDARIC ODE.

47

Sailing with fupreme dominion
Thro’the azure deep of air ;
Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms, as glitter in the Muse's ray
With orient hues, unborrowed of the fun :,
Yet shall he mount, and keep his diftant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate.
Beneath the Good how far --but far above

the Great.

II. Where creeps the Ninefold stream profound Her black inexorable round; And on the bank To willows dank The shiv'ring ghous are bound. Twelve thoufand crescents all shall swell To full-orb'd pride, and all decline, Ere they again in life's gay mansions dwell. Not such the meed that crowns the sons of

Freedom's line.

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