The tenour of thy lay:

To her of old by JOVE was giv'n

To judge the various deeds of earth and heav'n; "Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her fway.

Oft as from ftricter hours refign'd
I quit the maze where fcience toils,
Do thou refresh my yielding mind
With all thy gay, delufive spoils.
But, O indulgent, come not nigh
The bufy fteps, the jealous eye
Of gainful care, and wealthy age,
Whofe barren fouls thy joys difdain,
And hold as foes to reafon's reign
Whome'er thy lovely haunts engage.

With me, when mirth's consenting band
Around fair friendship's genial board
Invite the heart-awakening hand,
With me falute the Teian chord.
Or if invok'd at fofter hours,
O feek with me the happy bow'rs
That hear DIONE's gentle tongue;
To beauty link'd with virtue's train,
To love devoid of jealous pain,
There let the Sapphic lute be ftrung.

But when from envy and from death to claim
A hero bleeding for his native land;
Or when to nourish freedom's veftal flame,
I hear my genius utter his command,
Nor Theban voice, nor Lesbian lyre
From thee, O Mufe, do I require,
While my prophetic mind,

Confcious of pow'rs fhe never knew, Aftonifh'd grafps at things beyond her view, Nor by another's fate hath felt her own confin'd.