So rapid Pindar flows. — O parent of the lyre,
Let me for ever thy sweet sons admire!
O ancient Greece, but chief the bard whose lays
The matchless tale of Troy divine emblaze;
And next Euripides, soft Pity's priest,
Whose melts in useful woes the bleeding breast;
And him, who paints th' incestuous king,
Who soul amaze and horror wring;
Teach me to taste their charms refin'd,
The richest banquet of th' enraptur'd mind: