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ODE X.
ODE X.
On Lyric Poetry.
ONCE more I join the Thespian quire,
And taste th' inspiring fount again:
O parent of the Græcian lyre,
Admit me to thy secret strain
And lo! with ease my step invades
The pathless vale and opening shades,
Till now I spy her verdant seat,
And now at large I drink the sound,
While these her offspring, list'ning round,
By turns her melody repeat.
I see Anacreon smile and sing:
His silver tresses breathe perfume;
His cheek displays a second spring
Of roses taught by wine to bloom.
Away,
