And, whilft I do thus discover
Th' ingredients of a happy lover,
'Tis, my Anacreon, for thy fake
I of the grape no mention make.
Till my Anacreon by thee fell,
Curfed plant, I lov'd thee well.
And 'twas oft my wanton use,
To dip my arrows in thy juice.
Curfed plant, 'tis true, I see,
Th' old report that goes of thee,
That with giants blood the earth
Stain'd and poifon'd gave thee birth,
And now thou wreak'ft thy antient spight
On men, in whom the gods delight.
Thy patron Bacchus, 'tis no wonder,
Was brought forth in flames and thunder,
In rage, in quarrels, and in fights,
Worfe than his tigers, he delights;
In all our heaven I think there be [q]
No fuch ill-natur'd god as he.
Thou pretendeft, traiterous wine,
To be the Mufes friend and mine.

[9] - I think there be] "I think, Crab, my dog be the foureft-natured dog that lives." [Shakefp. Two Gent. of Verona, A. 11. S. 3.] Be, for am or is, was originally the mistake of one mode for another. It, afterwards, grew into credit; and feemed to take an air of confiftency and regularity, when fomebody had bethought himfelf to ufe, be'ft, in the fecond Perfon, for art. Hence, what grammarians call, the double form in the Indicative Prefent of the Auxiliary, to be. It is, now, defervedly exploded.

With love and wit thou doft begin,

False fires, alas, to draw us in,

Which, if our course we by them keep,
Mifguide to madness, or to fleep.

Sleep were well; thou'ft learnt a way
To death itself now to betray.

It grieves me, when I fee what fate
Does on the best of mankind wait.
Poets, or lovers, let them be,
"Tis neither love nor poefy

Can arm against death's smallest dart
The poet's head, or lover's heart.
But, when their life, in its decline,
Touches th' inevitable line,

All the world's mortal to 'em then,

And wine is aconite to men.

Nay, in death's hand, the grape-ftone proves
As ftrong, as thunder is in Jove's.

THE

XII.

THE PRAISE OF PINDAR [r],

P

AN OD E:

In Imitation of HORACE, Od. IV. ii.

1.

INDAR is imitable by none;

The phoenix Pindar is a vaft fpecies alone.

Who e'er, but Dædalus, with waxen wings could fly

And neither fink too low, nor foar too high?

What could he, who follow'd, claim,

But of vain boldness the unhappy fame,
And, by his fall, a fea to name?

Pindar's unnavigable fong,

Like a fwoln flood from fome fteep mountain, pours along:

The ocean meets with fuch a voice®

From his enlarged mouth, as drowns the ocean's noife.

2.

So Pindar does new words and figures roul
Down his impetuous dithyrambic tide,

Which in no channel deigns t' abide,
Which neither banks nor dikes control.

Whether

[r] The praife of Pindar.] This, and the three following odes are in the number of those, which Mr. Cowley calls, Pindaric: an exquifite fort of poetry,

to

Whether th' immortal gods he fings

In a no less immortal strain ;

Or the great acts of god-defcended kings,
Who in his numbers ftill furvive and reign.
Each rich embroider'd line,

Which their triumphant brows around,
By his facred hand, is bound,
Does all their starry diadems outshine.

3.

Whether at Pifa's race he please

To carve in polifh'd verfe the conquerors images :
Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong,

Be crowned in his nimble, artful, vigorous fong:
Whether fome brave young man's untimely fate,
In words worth dying for, he celebrate,

Such mournful, and fuch pleasing words,
As joy to his mother's and his mistress' grief affords :
He bids him live and grow in fame,
Among the ftars he sticks his name [s] ;

The grave can but the drofs of him devour,
So fmall is death's, fo great the poet's, power.

to which his ftyle was very ill fuited; being, for the
most part, carelefs, and, fometimes, affectedly vul-
gar.The ideas, in this ode, are from Horace'; but
the fpirit and expreffion, are the writer's own.
[s] Among the ftars he flicks his name]

"Stellis inferere et concilio Jovis." Hor. Od. 111, 25. COWLEY.

4. Lo,

4.

Lo, how th' obfequious wind, and fwelling air,
The Thèban fwan [t] does upwards bear
Into the walks of clouds, where he does play,
And with extended wings opens his liquid way.
Whilft, alas, my tim❜rous Muse
Unambitious tracks pursues ;
Does, with weak unballaft wings,
About the moffy brooks and fprings;
About the trees new-bloffom'd heads,
About the gardens painted beds,
About the fields and flowery meads,
And all inferior beauteous things,
Like the laborious bee,

For little drops of honey flee [u],

And there with humble fweets contents her industry.

[] The Theban fwan] Mr. Gray calls him, the Theban eagle; but the imagery of both poets is much the fame.

-'tho' he inherit

"Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,

་་

"That the Theban eagle bear

Sailing with fupreme dominion

"Thro' the azure deep of air." Progress of Poetry.

[u]-fee] The proper word had been fly, if the rhyme would have given leave. To fee, is properly to more with Speed out of the way of danger; to fly, to move with speed on WINGS.

XIII.