HIEF of Nature's works divine,
Water claims the highest praise:

Richeft offspring of the mine,

Gold, like fire, whose flashing rays From afar confpicuous gleam

Through the night's involving cloud, Firft in luftre and esteem,

Decks the treasures of the proud: So among the lists of fame

Pifa's honour'd games excell; Then to Pifa's glorious name

Tune, O Mufe, thy founding fhell.

ANTIS TROPHE I.

Who along the defert air

Seeks the faded starry train,

When the fun's meridian car

Round illumes th' æthereal plain?

Who a nobler theme can chufe

Than Olympia's facred Games?

What more apt to fire the Mufe,

When her various fongs fhe frames ? Songs in ftrains of wisdom dreft

Great Saturnius to record,

And by each rejoicing guest
Sung at Hiero's feaftful board.

E PODE I.

In paftoral Sicilia's fruitful foil

The righteous fceptre of imperial power Great Hiero wielding, with illustrious toil Plucks every blooming virtue's fairest flower, His royal fplendour to adorn :

Nor doth his fkilful hand refufe

Acquaintance with the tuneful Muse,

When round the mirthful board the harp is borne,

STROPHE II.

Down then from the glittering nail

Take, O Mufe, thy Dorian lyre; If the love of Pila's vale

Pleasing transports can inspire;
Or the rapid-footed steed

Could with joy thy bofom move,
When, unwhipp'd, with native speed
O'er the dusty course he drove;
And where deck'd with olives flows,
Alpheus, thy immortal flood,
On his lord's triumphant brows
The Olympick wreath bestow'd:

ANTIS TROPHE II.

Hiero's royal brows, whofe care

Tends the courfer's noble breed;
Pleas'd to nurfe the pregnant mare,
Pleas'd to train the youthful steed.

Now

Now on that heroic land

His far-beaming glories beat, Where with all his Lydian band Pelops fix'd his honour'd feat: Pelops, by the god belov'd,

Whofe strong arms the globe embrace; When by Jove's high orders mov'd Clotho blefs'd the healing vafe.

E PODE II.

Forth from the cauldron to new life reftor'd,
Pleas'd with the luftre of his ivory arm
Young Pelops rofe; fo ancient tales record,
And oft thefe tales unheeding mortals charm;
While gaudy Fiction, deck'd with art,
And dress'd in every winning grace,
To Truth's unornamented face

Preferr'd, feduces oft the human heart.

Smooth inchantrefs of mankind,

Clad in whofe falfe majesty

Fables eafy credit find.

But ere long the rolling year

The deceitful tale explodes :

Then, O man, with holy fear

Touch the characters of Gods.
Of their heavenly natures fay
Nought unfeemly, nought profane,
So fhalt thou due honour pay,

So be free from guilty fain.

ΑΝΤΙ

ANTISTROPHE III.

Differing then from ancient fame
I thy story will record:
How the Gods invited came

To thy father's genial board;'
In his turn the holy feaft
When on Sipylus he spread;
To the tables of the bleft

In his turn with honour led.
Neptune then thy lovely face,
Son of Tantalus, furvey'd,
And with amorous embrace
Far away the prize convey'd.

E PODE III.

To the high palace of all-honour'd Jove
With Pelops fwift the golden chariot rolls.
There, like more ancient Ganymede, above
For Neptune he prepares the nectar'd bowls.
But for her vanquish'd son in vain
When long his tender mother fought,
And tidings of his fate were brought
By none of all her much-inquiring train;

STROPHE IV.

O'er the envious realm with speed
A malicious rumour flew,
That, his heavenly guests to feed,

Thee thy impious father slew:

In

In a cauldron's feething flood

That thy mangled limbs were cast, Thence by each voracious God

On the board in meffes plac'd. But fhall I the bleft abufe?

With fuch tales to ftain her fong
Far, far be it from my Muse!

Vengeance waits th' unhallow'd tongue
ANTIS TROPHE

Sure, if e'er to man befel

Honour from the powers divine,
Who on high Olympus dwell,
Tantalus, the lot was thine.

But, alas! his mortal fenfe
All too feeble to digest
The delights of blifs immense,
Sicken'd at the heavenly feast.
Whence, his folly to chastife,

O'er his head with pride elate,
Jove, great father of the skies,

Hung a rock's enormous weight.

IV.

Now vainly labouring with inceffant pains
Th' impending rock's expected fall to fhun,
The fourth diftrefsful inftance he remains
Of wretched man by impious pride undone;
Who to his mortal guefts convey'd
Th' incorruptible food of Gods,
On which in their divine abodes
Himself erft feafting was immortal made.

STRO.