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 The bard shall crown with lasting bay, And age immortal make Atarna's sovereign, 'reft of day For thy dear beauty's sake: Him therefore the recording Nine In songs extol to heights divine, And every chord awake; Promoting still, with reverence due, The meed of friendship, tried and true.—

The same.

Oh! danger-seeking Glory, through the span Of life the best and highest aim of man: Say, have not Greeks, to win thy love, in fight Braved hottest perils, found in death delight? E'en Leda's twins, when felt thy dart than death Keener, than gold more potent, than the breath Of balmy sleep more grateful, with hearts fix'd By glory's charms, undaunted and untired To honour march'd? Nor with less eager pace Alcides battled on in glory's race; For love of thee Achilles sought his doom; For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloom Of madness and of death; for thee, of light Th' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night, Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power, Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hour Flits not from such: who hand and heart have given To crown, with honours due, the child of heaven.

(Book xv. § 63, p. 1122.)

Health! supreme of heavenly powers, Let my verse our fortunes tell— Mine with thee to spend the hours, Thine with me in league to dwell.

If bright gold be worth a prayer, If the pledge of love we prize, If the regal crown and chair Match celestial destinies—