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Against the deity 'tis hard to strive.

He that resists the power of Ptolemy,

Resists the power of heaven, for power from heaven
Derives; and monarchs rule by gods appointed.
Recite Apollo's praise, till night draws on,
The ditty still unfinish'd; and the day
Unequal to the godhead's attributes
Various, and matter copious of your songs.
Sublime at Jove's right hand Apollo sits,
And thence distributes honour, gracious king,
And theme of verse perpetual. From his robe
Flows light ineffable: his harp, his quiver,
And Lictian bow are gold: with golden sandals
His feet are shod; how rich! how beautiful!
Beneath his steps the yellow mineral rises ;
And earth reveals her treasures. Youth and beauty
Eternal deck his cheek; from his fair head
Perfumes distil their sweets; and cheerful health,
His duteous handmaid, through the air improv'd,
With lavish hand diffuses scents ambrosial.

The spearman's arm by thee, great god, directed, Sends forth a certain wound. The laurel'd bard, Inspir'd by thee, composes verse immortal. Taught by thy art divine, the sage physician Eludes the urn; and chains, or exiles death.

Thee, Nomian, we adore; for that from Heaven Descending, thou on fair Amphrysus' banks Didst guard Admetus's herds. Sithence the cow Produc'd an ampler store of milk; the she-goat Not without pain dragg'd her distended udder;

And ewes, that erst brought but single lambs, Now dropp'd their twofold burthens. Blest the

cattle,

On which Apollo cast his favouring eye!

But Phoebus, thou to man beneficent,

Delight'st in building cities.

Kind sister to thy infant deity,

Bright Diana,

New-wean'd, and just arising from the cradle, Brought hunted wild goats' heads, and branching antlers

Of stags, the fruit and honour of her toil.

These with discerning hand thou knew'st to range, (Young as thou wast) and in the well-fram'd models, With emblematic skill and mystic order,

Thou show'dst, where towers or battlements should

rise;

Where gates should open; or where walls should

compass:

While from thy childish pastime man received
The future strength and ornament of nations.

Battus, our great progenitor, now touch'd
The Libyan strand; when the foreboding crow
Flew on the right before the people, marking
The country, destin'd the auspicious seat
Of future kings, and favour of the god,
Whose oath is sure, and promise stands eternal.

Or Boëdromian hear'st thou pleas'd, or Clarian, Phoebus, great king? for different are thy names, As thy kind hand has founded many cities, Or dealt benign thy various gifts to man.

Carnean let me call thee! for my country
Calls thee Carnean! the fair colony

Thrice by thy gracious guidance was transported,
Ere settled in Cyrene; there w' appointed
Thy annual feasts, kind god, and bless thy altars
Smoking with hecatombs of slaughter'd bulls;
As Carnus, thy high-priest and favour'd friend,
Had erst ordain'd; and with mysterious rites,
Our great forefathers taught their sons to worship.
Iö Carnean Phoebus! Iö Pean!

The yellow crocus there, and fair narcissus
Reserve the honours of their winter-store,
To deck thy temple; till returning spring
Diffuses nature's various pride; and flowers
Innumerable, by the soft south-west

Open'd, and gather'd by religious hands, [ment.
Rebound their sweets from th' odoriferous pave-
Perpetual fires shine hallow'd on thy altars,
When annual the Carnean feast is held :
The warlike Libyans, clad in armour, lead
The dance! with clanging swords and shields they
beat

The dreadful measure: in the chorus join
Their women, brown but beautiful: such rights
To thee well pleasing. Nor had yet thy votaries,
From Greece transplanted, touch'd Cyrene's banks,
And lands determin'd for their last abodes;
But wander'd through Azilis' horrid forest
Dispers'd; when from Myrtusa's craggy brow,
Fond of the maid, auspicious to the city,

Which must hereafter bear her favour'd name,
Thou gracious deign'st to let the fair one view
Her typic people; thou with pleasure taught'st her
To draw the bow, to slay the shaggy lion,
And stop the spreading ruin of the plains.
Happy the nymph, who honour'd by thy passion,
Was aided by thy power! the monstrous Python
Durst tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell,
To thy great strength and golden arms unequal.
Iö! while thy unerring hand elanc'd
Another, and another dart; the people
Joyfully repeated Iö! Iö Pean!

Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety

And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee.
Envy, thy latest foe, suggested thus:

Like thee I am a power immortal; therefore
To thee dare speak. How canst thou favour partial
Those poets who write little? Vast and great
Is what I love: the far-extended ocean
To a small rivulet I prefer. Apollo

Spurn'd Envy with his foot; and thus the god :
Demon, the head-long current of Euphrates,
Assyrian river, copious runs, but muddy,
And carries forward with his stupid force
Polluting dirt; his torrent still augmenting,
His wave still more defil'd; meanwhile the nymphs
Melissan, sacred and recluse to Ceres,

Studious to have their offerings well receiv'd,

And fit for Heavenly use, from little urns

Pour streams select, and purity of waters.

Iö! Apollo, mighty king, let Envy
Ill-judging and verbose, from Lethe's lake
Draw tuns unmeasurable; while thy favour
Administers to my ambitious thirst

The wholesome draught from Aganippe's spring
Genuine, and with soft murmurs gently rilling
Adown the mountains where thy daughters haunt.

CHARITY.

A PARAPHRASE ON THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER OF THE FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS.

DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc'd, or angels sung;
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I power to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw
When Moses gave them miracles and law:
Yet gracious Charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A tymbal's sound were better than my voice,
My faith were form, my eloquence were noise.

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