Does his spreading root derive,

To branch out a progeny fair;

Who, fpringing foremost in the chace

Of fame, demands we should his triumph grace,
Tuning lyres to vocal lays,

Sweet union of melodious praise;

ANTISTROPHE III. Measures 16.

For not only has he borne

Th' Olympian prize, but, with his brother, worn
The garland of renown,

At Pytho and at Ifthmus; where,

Victorious both, they fhar'd th' allotted crown,

Joint-honour, won

In twelve impetuous courfes, run

With four unwearied steeds.

To vanquish in the ftrife fevere
Does all anxiety destroy:
And to this, if wealth fucceeds
With virtues enamel'd, the joy
Luxuriant grows; fuch affluence
Does glorious opportunities difpenfe,
Giving depth of thought to find

Purfuits which please a noble mind,

E PODE III. Meafures 10.

Refulgent ftar to man the pureft beam of light!

The poffeffor of this store,

Far-future things difcerning, knows

95

100

105

I LO

115

Obdurate wretches, once deceas'd, to immediate woes Confign'd, too late their pains deplore;

121

For

For below

Ere they go,

Sits one in judgment, who pronounces right
On crimes in this wide realm of Jove;

Whofe dire decree no power can e'er remove :

STROPHE IV.

But the good, alike by night,

Measures 16.

Alike by day, the fun's unclouded light

Beholding, ever blefs'd,

125

140

Measures 16..

Who never broke the vow they swore,...
A tearless age enjoy for ever-more;
While the wicked hence depart
To torments which appall the heart :

ANTISTROPHE IV.

But the fouls who greatly dare,

Thrice try'd in either ftate, to persevere

From all injuftice pure,

Journeying onward in the way

Of Jupiter, in virtue ftill fecure,

Along his road

Arrive at Saturn's rais'd abode;

145

Where

Where foft fea-breezes breathe

Round the island of the blefs'd; where gay
The trees with golden bloffoms glow;
Where, their brows and arms to wreathe,
Bright garlands on every fide below;

For, fpringing thick in every field,

The earth does golden flowers fpontaneous yield;
And, in every limpid ftream,

The budding gold is feen to gleam:

EPODE IV. Measures 10.

Fair heritage by righteous Rhadamanth's award;
Who, coëqual, takes his feat

With Saturn, fire divine,

Thy confort, Rhea, who above the reft doth shine,

High thron'd, thou matron-goddess great:

These among

(Blissful throng!)

Does Peleus and does Cadmus find regard;

And, through his mother's winning prayer
To Jove, Achilles dwells immortal there :
STROPHE V.

He who Hector did destroy,

Measures 16.

The pillar firm, the whole fupport, of Troy,

And Cycnus gave to die,

And Aurora's Æthiop fon.

My arm beneath yet many darts have I,

All fwift of flight,

Within my quiver, founding right

To every fkilful ear:

But, of the multitude, not one

150

156

160

165

170

375

Difcerns

Difcerns the mystery unexplain'd.
He tranfcendent does appear

In knowledge, from Nature who gain'd
His ftore: but the dull-letter'd croud,
In cenfure vehement, in nonfense loud,
Clamour idly, wanting skill,

Like crows, in vain, provoking still

ANTIS TROPHE V. Measures 16.

180

The celeftial bird of Jove:

But, to the mark address thy bow, nor rove,

185

That through an hundred circling years,
With recorded worthies bright,

No rivaling city appears

To boast a man more frank to impart

Kind offices to friends with open heart,
Or, with hand amidst his store,

Delighting to distribute more

EPODE V. Measures 10.

Than Theron yet foul calumny, injurious blame,

Did the men of rancour raise

Against his fair renown,

Defamers who by evil actions ftrove to drown

His good, and to conceal his praise.

195

200

Can the fand,

205

On the ftrand,

Be number'd o'er? Then, true to Theron's fame,

His favours fhowering down delight

On thousands who is able to recite ?

THE FIRST ODE OF ANACREON.

T

ON HIS LUTE.

HE line of Atreus will I fing;

To Cadmus will I tune the ftring:

But, as from ftring to string I move,
My lute will only found of Love.

The chords I change through every fcrew,
And model the whole lute anew.

Once more, in fong, my voice I raise,
And, Hercules, thy toils I praise :
My lute does till my voice deny,
And in the tones of love reply.
Ye heroes then, at once farewel :

Loves only echo from

THE

Ο Ν

N

SECOND O D E.

WOMEN.

ATURE the bull with horns fupplies,
The horfe with hoofs fhe fortifies,
The fleeting foot on hares beftows,
On lions teeth, two dreadful rows!

12

Grants