a Gentleman, the peculiar excellence of whofe genius hath often revealed what his modefty would have kept a fecret. And to this I might have trusted to inform the world, that the Tranflation I am now speaking of, though inferted amongst mine, was not done by me, were I not defirous of teftifying the pride and pleasure I take in feeing, in this and fome other instances, his admirable pieces blended and joined with mine; an evidence and emblem at the fame time of that friendship, which hath long fubfifted between us, and which I fhall always efteem a fingular felicity and honour to myself.

The Authors, from whom the other pieces are tranflated, are fo well known, that I need fay nothing of them in this place; neither fhall I detain the Reader with any farther account of the tranflations themfelves, than only to acquaint him, that I tranflated. the Dramatic Poem of Lucian upon the Gout, when I was myself under an attack of that incurable distemper, which I mention by way of excufe; and that all the other pieces, excepting only the Hymn of Cleanthes, were written many years ago, at a time when I read and wrote, like most other people, for amusement only. If the Reader finds they give any to him, I fhall be very glad of it; for it is doing fome service to human fociety, to amufe innocently; and they know very little of human nature, who think it can bear to be always employed either in the exercife of its duties, or in high and important meditations.

MR. WEST'S TRANSLATION OF PINDAR.

By the Reverend Mr. JOSEPH WARTON.
I. 1.

ALBION, exult! thy fons a voice divine have heard,

The Man of Thebes hath in thy vales appear'd! Hark! with fresh rage and undiminish'd fire, The sweet enthufiaft fmites the British lyre; The founds that echoed on Alphéus' streams, Reach the delighted ear of liftening Thames; Lo! fwift across the dufty plain

Great Theron's foaming courfers ftrain! What mortal tongue e'er roll'd along Such full impetuous tides of nervous fong?

I. 2.

The fearful, frigid lays of cold and creeping art,
Nor touch, nor can transport th' unfeeling heart;
Pindar, our inmost bofom piercing, warms
With glory's love, and eager thirst of arms:
When freedom fpeaks in his majestic strain,
The patriot-paffions beat in every vein :
We long to fit with heroes old,
'Mid groves of vegetable gold,
*Where Cadmus and Achilles dwell,
And ftill of daring deeds and dangers tell.

I. 3.

Away, enervate Bards, away,

Who fpin the courtly, filken lay,
*As wreaths for fome vain Louis' head
Or mourn fome foft Adonis dead:
No more your polish'd Lyricks boast,
In British Pindar's ftrength o'erwhelm'd and loft:
As well might ye compare

The glimmerings of a waxen flame
(Emblem of Verfe correctly tame)

+ To his own Ætna's fulphur-fpouting caves, When to Heaven's vault the fiery deluge raves, When clouds and burning rocks dart through the trou

bled air.

II. 1.

In roaring Cataracts down Andes' channel'd steeps
Mark how enormous Orellana sweeps!

Monarch of mighty Floods! fupremely strong,
Foaming from cliff to cliff he whirls along,
Swoln with an hundred hills' collected fnows:
Thence over nameless regions widely flows,
Round fragrant ifles, and citron-groves,
Where still the naked Indian roves,
And fafely builds his leafy bower,

From flavery far, and curft Iberian power;

* Alluding to the French and Italian Lyrick Poets.

† See 1 Pyth. Od.

136 ODE ON WEST'S PINDAR, &c.

II. 2.

So rapid Pindar flows.-O Parent of the Lyre,
Let me for ever thy fweet fons admire !

O ancient Greece, but chief the Bard whofe lays
The matchlefs tale of Troy divine emblaze;
And next Euripides, foft pity's prieft,

Who melts in useful Woes the bleeding breast;
And him, who paints th' incestuous king,
Whose foul amaze and horror wring;
Teach me to tafte their charms refin'd,
The richest banquet of th' enraptur'd mind:

II. 3.

For the bleft man, the Mufe's child *, On whofe aufpicious birth she smil'd, Whofe foul fhe form'd of purer fire, For whom the tun'd a golden lyre, Seeks not in fighting fields renown: No widows' midnight fhrieks, nor burning town, The peaceful Poet please :

Nor ceafeless toils for fordid gains,

Nor purple pomp, nor wide domains,

Nor heaps of wealth, nor power, nor statesman's schemes,

Nor all deceiv'd ambition's feverish dreams,

Lure his contented heart from the sweet vale of ease.

*Hor. lib. IV. Od. iii.

ODES

O DE S

O F

PIND A R.

Olympiace miratus præmia palmæ.”

VIRG. Georg. l. iii.

THE FIRST OLYMPICK ODE.

This Ode is infcribed to Hiero of Syracufe, who, in the Seventy-third Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Race of Single Horses.

ARGU MEN T.

THE fubject of this Ode being a victory obtained by Hiero in the Olympick Games, Pindar fets out with fhewing the fuperiority and pre-eminence of thofe Games over all others; among which, he says, they hold the fame rank, as water (which, according to the opinion of Thales and other Philofophers,was the original of all things) among the elements, and Gold among the gifts of Fortune. Wherefore, continues he, O my heart, if thou art inclined to fing of Games, it would be as abfurd to think of any other but the Olympick