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IMITATION OF AN ODE BY KOODRUT,
Ambition's voice was in my ear, she whispered
yesterday, • How goodly is the land of Room, how wide
the Russian sway. How blest to conquer either realm, and dwell
through life to come, Lulled by the harp's melodious string, cheered
by the northern drur But wisdom heard; O youth,' she said, “in
passion's fetter tied, O come and see a sight with me shall cure thee
of thy pride.' She led me to a lonely dell, a sad and shady
ground, Where many an ancient sepulchre gleained in
the moonshine round. And · here Secunder sleeps,' she cried ;- this
is his rival's stone; And here the mighty chief reclines who reared
the Median throne.
IMITATION OF AN ODE.
Inquire of these, doth aught of all their ancient
pomp remain, Save late regret, and bitter tears forever, and in
vain ? Return, return, and in thy heart engraven keep
my lore; The lesser wealth, the lighter load,-small blame
betides the poor.'