Or Boëdromian hear'ft 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 tranfported, Ere fettled in Cyrene; there w' appointed Thy annual feafts, kind God, and blefs thy altars Smoaking with hecatombs of flaughter'd bulls ; As Carnus, thy high prieft and favour'd friend, Had erft ordain'd; and with myfterious rites, Our great forefathers taught their fons to worship. Iö Carnean Phoebus! Iö Pean!
The yellow crocus there and fair narciffus Referve the honours of their winter-store, To deck thy temple; till returning fpring Diffuses Nature's various pride; and flowers Innumerable, by the foft fouth-west
Open'd, and gather'd by religious hands,
Rebound their fweets from th' odoriferous pavement.
Perpetual fires fhine hallow'd on thy altars.
When annual the Carnean feaft is held :
The warlike Libyans, clad in armour, lead
The dance; with clanging fwords and fhields they beat The dreadful meafure: in the chorus join Their women, brown but beautiful: fuch rites- To thee well pleafing. Nor had yet thy votaries, From Greece tranfplanted, touch'd Cyrene's banks, And lands determin'd for their last abodes ;
But wander'd through Azilis' horrid forest Difpers'd; when from Myrtufa's craggy brow, Fond of the maid, aufpicious to the city, Which muft hereafter bear her favour'd name, Thou gracious deign'ft to let the fair-one view Her typic people; thou with pleafure taught'st her To draw the bow, to flay the fhaggy lion, And ftop the fpreading ruin of the plains. Happy the nymph, who, honour'd by thy paffion, Was aided by thy power! The monstrous Python Durft tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell, To thy great ftrength and golden arms unequal. Iö! while thy unerring hand elanc'd Another, and another dart; the people
Joyfully repeated Iö! lö Pean!
Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety
And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee. Envy, thy lateft foe, fuggefted thus:
Like thee I am a power immortal; therefore To thee dare speak. How canft thou favour partial Thofe poets who write little? Vaft 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: Dæmon, the head-long current of Euphrates, Affyrian river, copious runs, but muddy ; And carries forward with his ftupid force Polluting dirt; his torrent ftill augmenting, His wave still more defil'd: mean while the nymphs Meliffan, facred and reclufe to Ceres,
Studious to have their offerings well receiv'd, And fit for heavenly use, from little urns Pour streams felect, and purity of waters. Iö! Apollo, mighty king, let Envy Ill-judging and verbose, from Lethe's lake, Draw tuns unmeasurable; while thy favour Adminifters to my ambitious thirst
The wholesome draught from Aganippe's spring Genuine, and with foft 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 fweeter founds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc'd, or angels fung;
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 fpeeches of the babbling earth; Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breaft infpire, To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire; Or had I faith like that which Ifrael faw When Mofes gave them miracles and law: Yet, gracious Charity! indulgent guest, Were not thy power exerted in my breast;
Those speeches would fend up unheeded prayer; That scorn of life would be but wild despair : A tymbal's found were better than my voice: My faith were form: my eloquence were noise. Charity, decent, modeft, eafy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide, Betwixt vile fhame and arbitrary pride. Not foon provok'd, the eafily forgives; And much the fuffers, as the much believes. Soft peace fhe brings where-ever the arrives; She builds our quiet, as the forms our lives; Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even; And opens in each heart a little Heaven.
Each other gift, which God on man bestows, Its proper bound and due reftriction knows; To one fixt purpofe dedicates its power; And, finishing its act, exifts no more. Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees, Knowledge fhall fail, and Prophecy fhall ceafe;
But lafting Charity's more ample fway,
Nor bound by time, nor fubject to decay, In happy triumph fhall for ever live,
And endless good diffufe, and endless praise receive. As, through the artift's intervening glass,
Our eye obferves the diftant planets pass;
A little we difcover, but allow,
That more remains unfeen, than art can show:
So, whilst our mind its knowledge would improve
Its feeble eye intent on things above),
High as we may, we lift our reafon up, By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope: Yet we are able only to furvey
Dawning of beams, and promifes of day.
Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled fight; Too great its fwiftness, and too strong its light. But foon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd; The fun fhall foon be face to face beheld, In all his robes, with all his glory on, Seated fublime on his meridian throne.
Then conftant Faith and holy Hope fhall die, One loft in certainty, and one in joy: Whilft thou, more happy power, fair Charity, Triumphant fifter, greatest of the three, Thy office and thy nature ftill the fame, Lafting thy lamp, and unconfum'd thy flame, Shalt ftill furvive
Shalt ftand before the hoft of Heaven confeft, For ever bleffing, and for ever bleft.
Toft' to many has successful been, Upon his arm to let his mistress lean;
Or with her airy fan to cool her heat,
Or gently squeeze her knees, or prefs her feet. All public fports, to favour young defire, With opportunities like this confpire. Ev'n where his skill the gladiator fhows, With human blood where the Arena flows;
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