THE FIRST OLYMPIC ODE. TO HIERO OF SYRACUSE, VICTOR IN THE HORSE RACE. CAN earth, or fire, or liquid air, The circus of Olympian Jove; Whence borne on many a tuneful tongue, Over sheep clad Sicily Who the righteous sceptre beareth, Every flower of virtue's tree Wove in various wreath he weareth,-But the bud of poesy Is the fairest flower of all; Which the bards, in social glee, Strow round Hiero's wealthy hall.- And that good steed's, whose thought will wake And earned the olive wreath of fame For that dear lord, whose righteous name The sons of Syracusa tell : Who loves the generous courser well: The youth an ivory shoulder bore. -Well,—these are tales of mystery !— And many a darkly woven lie With men will easy credence gain; While truth, calm truth, may speak in vain ; Can honor give to actions ill, And faith to deeds incredible ;— But if we dare the deeds rehearse Of those that aye endure, 'T were meet that in such dangerous verse And of thy parent say, That when in heaven a favored guest, |