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Occafioned by His MAJESTY's return, Sept. 1729,and the fucceeding PEACE.

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PREFACE.

A

Pindaric carries a formidable found; but there is

nothing formidable in the true nature of it; of which (with utmost fubmiffion) I conceive the critics have hitherto entertained a falfe idea. Pindar is as natural as Anacreon, though not fo familiar. As a fixt ftar is as much in the bounds of nature, as a flower of the field, though less obvious, and of greater dignity. This is not the received notion of Pindar; I fhall therefore soon support at large that hint which is now given.

Trade is a very noble subject in itself; more proper than any for an Englishman; and particularly seasonable at this juncture.

We have more fpecimens of good writing in every province, than in the fublime; our two famous Epic Poems excepted. I was willing to make an attempt where I had feweft rivals.

If, on reading this Ode, any man has a fuller idea of the real intereft, or possible glory of his country, than before; or a stronger impression from it, or a warmer concern for it, I give up to the critic any farther repu

tation.

We have many copies and translations that pass for originals. This Ode I humbly conceive is an original, though it profeffes imitation. No man can be like Pindar, by imitating any of his particular works; any more than like Raphael, by copying the cartoons.

The

The genius and spirit of fuch great men must be collected from the whole; and when thus we are poffeffed of it, we must exert its energy in fubjects and designs of our own. Nothing is fo unpindarical as following Pindar on the foot. Pindar is an original, and he must be fo too, who would be like Pindar in that which is his greatest praife. Nothing fo unlike as a close copy, and a noble original.

As for length, Pindar has an unbroken Ode of fix hundred lines. Nothing is long or fhort in writing, but relatively to the demand of the subject, and the manner of treating it. A diftich may be long, and a folio bort. However, I have broken this Ode into Strains, each of which may be confidered as a feparate Ode if you please. And if the variety and fullness of matter be confidered, I am rather apprehenfive of danger from brevity in this Ode, than from length. But lank writing is what I think ought moft to be declined, if for nothing elfe, for our plenty of it.

The Ode is the most spirited kind of poetry, and the Pindaric is the moft fpirited kind of Ode; this I fpeak at my own very great peril: but truth has an eternal title to our confeffion, though we are fure to fuffer by it.

THË

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The Propofition. An Addrefs to the vessel that brought over the King. Who fhould fing on this occafion. A Pindaric boaft.

I.

AST by the furge my limbs are spread;

FA

The naval oak nods o'er my head;

The winds are loud; the waves tumultuous roll:

Ye winds! indulge your rage no more ;.

Ye founding billows! ceafe to roar;

The God defcends; and transports warm my foul,

II.

The waves are hush'd; the winds are spent !

This kingdom, from the kingdoms rent,

I celebrate in fong-Fam'd Ifle! no less,

By Nature's favour, from mankind, Than by the foaming sea, disjoin'd; Alone in blifs! an ile, in happiness !

III. Though

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