University of Virginia Library

SCOPAS.

—AN ODE.

They by heaven unfavoured are,
Who the muse's meed deny:
Blessings they shall never share,
Blessings shall for ever fly!—
Scopas, mighty victor! see,
Olympic wreaths his brow adorn;
Short his date of life must be;
Short his glory—long his scorn.—
See him urge the headlong car,
Blazing o'er the dusty plain,
Mark his smoking track afar
The distant goal beholds him gain.—
Hark! who strikes the silver lyre?
The bard sublime his triumph sings
Tells the glories of his Sire,
And a long race of mighty kings.—

8

Who profane omits the praise
Due to heaven! unhappy dies:
The bard a grateful tribute pays
To the twin brothers of the skies.—
The banquet see profusely spread:
Burnish'd vases crown'd with wine,
Copious pour the beverage red,
Of the luscious bleeding vine.—
Hear how flush'd with victory,
He disdains the honour'd bard:
Bids him from his presence flee,
Slighted of his just reward.—
Hark! now at the sounding gate
Two travellers impatient knock:
Travellers should never wait—
Bid the shining bolts unlock.—
Sudden from the festive hall
They the slighted bard require,
For Simonides they call,
Master of the silver lyre.—
Obsequious goes the honour'd bard
But no travellers are there,
Scopas meets a just reward—
They the mighty brothers are.—

9

Hark! the loud tremendous roar!
The gilded dome a ruin lies:
Mighty victor now no more,
Scopas mid his triumph dies.—