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Lowly when in a lot obscure,

But liberal if my fortunes rise;

These blessings I shall render sure,

Obtain'd with all my energies.

If wealth the favouring god should give,

I hope that not unknown to fame

My honoured and illustrious name

In ages yet to come may live.

We know that glorious powers belong

To the sweet poet's epic song;

What time he wakes the sounding lyre,

And bids departed worth aspire.

Such Nestor's lot. This charm could save

Lycian Sarpedon from the grave:

But few the lengthen'd age obtain

Whose virtue blooms in lyric strain.