22
The Temple of Fame.
Here, like some furious Prophet, Pindar rode,
And seem'd to labour with th' inspiring God.
A-cross the Harp a careless Hand he flings,
And boldly sinks into the sounding Strings.
The figur'd Games of Greece the Column grace,
Neptune and Jove survey the rapid Race:
The Youth's hang o'er their Chariots as they run
The fiery Steeds seem starting from the Stone;
The Champions in distorted Postures threat,
And all appear'd Irregularly great.
Here happy Horace tun'd th' Ausonian Lyre
To sweeter Sounds, and temper'd Pindar's Fire:
Pleas'd with Alcæus manly Rage t'infuse
The softer Spirit of the Sapphick Muse.
The
