Inspire with glowing energy of thought
What Wilson painted, and what Ovid wrote.
Muse! lend thine aid, nor let me sue in vain,
Though last and meanest of the rhyming train!
Oh! guide my pen in lofty strains to show
The Phrygian queen all beautiful in woe.
'T was where Mæonia spreads her wide domain
Niobe dwelt, and held her potent reign:
See in her hand the regal sceptre shine,
The wealthy heir of Tantalus divine,
He most distinguished by Dodonean Jove,
To approach the tables of the gods above:
Her grandsire Atlas, who with mighty pains
The etherial axis on his neck sustains:
Her other grandsire on the throne on high
Rolls the loud pealing thunder of the sky.
Her spouse, Amphion, who from Jove too springs,
Divinely taught to sweep the sounding strings.
Seven sprightly sons the royal bed adorn,
Seven daughters, beauteous as the rising morn,
As when Aurora fills the ravished sight,
And decks the orient realms with rosy light,
From their bright eyes the living splendors play,
Nor can beholders bear the flashing ray.
Wherever, Niobe, thou turnst thine eyes,
New beauties kindle and new joys arise!
But thou hadst far the happier mother proved,
If this fair offspring had been less beloved:
