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L I B E R

IV.

O DE

IX.

N

E forte credas interitura, quae

Longe fonantem natus ad Aufidum Non ante vulgatas per artes

Verba loquor focianda chordis ; Non, fi priores Maeonius tenet Sedes Homerus, Pindaricae latent Ceaeque, et Alcaei minaces

Stefichorique graves Camenae : Nec, fi quid olim lufit Anacreon, Delevit aetas : fpirat adhuc amor, Vivuntque commiffi calores

Aeoliae fidibus puellae.

Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi ; fed omnes illacrymabiles
Urguentur ignotique longa

Nocte, carent quia vate facro.

Part

of the NINTH ODE

Of the FOURTH BOOK.

L

EST

you

should think that verse shall die, Which sounds the Silver Thames along, Taught, on the wings of Truth to fly

Above the reach of vulgar song ;

Tho'daring Milton fits sublime,

In Spencer native Muses play ; Nor

yet shall Waller yield to time, Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay.

Sages and Chiefs long since had birth

Ere Cæfar was, or Newton nam'd; These rais'd new Empires o'er the Earth,

And Those, new Heav'ns and Systems fram’d.

Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's pride!

They had no Poet, and they died.
In vain they schem’d, in vain they bled!
They had no Poet, and are dead.

MISCELLANIES.

I D

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