University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
And you, associate Bards! who snatched to light
Those gems too long withheld from modern sight;

367

Whose mingling taste combined to cull the wreath
While Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe,
And all their renovated fragrance flung,
To grace the beauties of your native tongue;
Now let those minds, that nobly could transfuse
The glorious Spirit of the Grecian Muse,
Though soft the echo, scorn a borrowed tone:
Resign Achaia's lyre, and strike your own.
 

The translators of the Anthology have since published separate poems, which evince genius that only requires opportunity to attain eminence.