12
Who dar'd, without the true Promethean fire,
Infest her bow'rs and tempt her dang'rous lyre.
Their epics, odes, and elegies unknown,
Of all the vocal host, one name alone;
Immortal Codrus lives, to tell their crime,
And blaze their punishment to latest time.
If hapless Codrus, and that injur'd band[1],
Reserv'd by Fate, now grac'd our favour'd land;
Infest her bow'rs and tempt her dang'rous lyre.
Their epics, odes, and elegies unknown,
Of all the vocal host, one name alone;
Immortal Codrus lives, to tell their crime,
And blaze their punishment to latest time.
If hapless Codrus, and that injur'd band[1],
Reserv'd by Fate, now grac'd our favour'd land;
- ↑ The account of these unfortunate poets is found in opening page of Juvenal, and is thus most effectually forced upon the notice of every reader. He who has seen only the first fourteen lines of that unmerciful satirist, knows their unhappy fate. One seems to have laboured most abundantly for fame. The Orestes, we are told, filled an immense volume, first written from beginning to end, then as close as possible over the margin of every page, anf finally on the covers and even the back. Yet, after all, it was only a fragment.. . . . . summi plenâ jam margine libri
Scriptus et in tergo, necdum finitus Orestes.
