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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 drum.'
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 gleamed 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
Save late regret, and bitter tears forever, and in
Return, return, and in thy heart engraven keep my lore;
The lesser wealth, the lighter load,—small blame betides the poor.'