Their scythes upon the adverse bank
Glitter 'mongst th' entangled trees,
Where the hazles form a rank,

And court'sy to the courting breeze.

fter Mr. Dryden and Mr. Pope, would be great presumption, which is the reason he detains the eader ip this place to make an apology, much against his will, he having all due contempt for the impertinence of prefaces. In the first place then, it will be a little hard (he thinks) if he should be particularly mark'd out for censure, many others having written on the same subject without any such imputations; but they, (it may be) did not live long enough to be laughed at, or, by some lucky means or other, escaped those shrewd remarks, which, it seems, are reserved for him. In the second place, this subject was It would not be right to conclude, without not his choice, but imposed upon him by a gen- taking notice of a fine subject for an ode on St. tleman very eminent in the science of music, for Cecilia's Day, which was suggested to the author whom he has a great friendship, and who is, by by his friend the learned and ingenious Mr. his good sense and humanity, as much elevated Comber, late of Jesus College in this university; above the generality of mankind, as by his exthat is David's playing to king Saul when he was quisite art he is above most of his profession. troubled with the evil spirit. He was much The request of a friend, undoubtedly, will be pleased with the hint at first, but at length was sneered at by some as a stale and antiquated apo-deterred from improving it by the greatness of logy: it is a very good one notwithstanding, the subject, and he thinks not without reason. which, is manifest even from it's triteness; for it The chusing too high subjects has been the ruin can never be imagined, that so many excellent of many a tolerable genius. There is a good authors, as well as bad ones, would have rule which Fresnoy prescribes to the painters; made use of it, had they not been convinced of which is likewise applicable to the poets. it's cogency. As for the writer of this piece, he will rejoice in being derided, not only for obliging his friends, but any honest man whatsoever, so far as may be in the power of a person of his mean abilities. He does not pretend to equal the very worst parts of the two celebrated performances already extant on the subject; which acknowledgment alone will, with the good-natured and judicious, acquit him of presumption; because these pieces, however excellent upon the whole, are not without their blemishes. There is in them both an exact unity of design, which though in compositions of another nature a beauty, is an impropriety in the Pindaric, which should consist in the vehemence of sudden and unlook'd for transitions: hence chiefly it derives that enthusiastic fire and wildness, which, greatly distinguish it from other species of poesy. In the first stanza of Dryden' and in the fifth of Pope2, there is an air, which is so far from being adapted to the majesty of an ode, that it would make no considerable figure in a ballad. And lastly, they both conclude with a turn which has something too epigrammatical in it. Bating these trifles, they are incomparably beautiful and great; neither is there to be found two more finish'd pieces of lyric poetry in our language, L'Allegro and Il Penseroso of Milton excepted, which are the finest in any. Dryden's is the more sublime and magnificent; but Pope's is the more elegant and correct; Dryden has the fire and spirit of Pindar, and Pope has the terse

1 Happy, happy, happy pair,
None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserve the fair.

2 Thus song cou'd prevail
O'er Death, and o'er Hell,

A conquest how hard and how glorious!
Tho' Fate had fast bound her
With Styx nine times round her.
Yet Music and Love were victorious.

hess and purity of Horace. Dryden's is certainly the more elevated performance of the two, but by no means so much so as people in general will have it. There are few that will allow any sort of comparison to be made between them. This is in some measure owing to that prevailing but absurd custom which has obtained from Horace's3 time even to this day, viz. of preferring authors to the bays by seniority. Had Mr. Pope written first, the mob, that judge by this rule, would have given him the preference; and the rather, because in this piece he does not deserve it.

Supremam in tabulis lucem captare dici
Insanus labor artificum; cum attingere tan-
(lucem;
Non pigmenta queant: auream sed Vespere
Seu modicum mane albentem; sive ætheris

tum

actam

Post hyemen nimbis transfuso sole caducam; Seu nebulis sultam accipient, tonitruque rubentem.

THE ARGUMENT. Stanza I, II. Invocation of men and angels to join in the praise of S. Cecilia. The divine origin of music. Stanza III. Art of music, or it's miraculous power over the brute and inanimate creation exemplified in Waller, and Stanza IV, V, in Arion. Stanza VI. the nature of music, or it's power over the passions. Instances of this in it's exciting pity. Stanza VII. In promoting courage and military virtue. Stanza VIII. Excellency of church music. Air to the memory of Mr. Purcell. Praise of the crgan and it's inventress Saint Cecilia.

I.

FROM

ROM your lyre-enchanted tow'rs,
Ye musically mystic pow'rs,

Ye, that inform the tuneful spheres,
Inaudible to mortal ears,

While each orb in ether swims
Accordant to th' inspiring hymns;

vi.

But o'er th' affections too she claims the sway,
Pierces the human heart, and steals the soul away,
And as attractive sounds move high or low,
Th' obedient ductile passions ebb and flow.
Has any nymph her faithful lover lost,

And in the visions of the night,

And all the day-dreams of the light,
In sorrow's tempest turbulently tost-
From her cheeks the roses die,
The radiations vanish from her Sun-bright eye,
And her breast, the throne of love,
Can hardly, hardly, hardly move,
To send th' ambrosial sigh.
But let the skilful bard appear,
And pour the sounds medicinal in her ear;
Sing some sad, some plaintive ditty,
Steept in tears, that endless flow,
Melancholy notes of pity,

Notes that mean a world of woe ;'
She too shall sympathize, she too shall moan,
And pitying others' sorrows sigh away her own.
CHORUS.

Sing some sad, some &c. &c.

VII.

Wake, wake, the kettle-drum, prolong
The swelling trumpet's silver song,
And let the kindred accents pass
Thro' the horn's meandring brass.
Arise-The patriot Muse invites to war,
And mounts Bellona's brazen car;

While Harmony, terrific maid!
Appears in martial pomp array'd:
The sword, the target, and the lance
She wields, and as she moves, exalts the Pyrrhic

Swift o'er the fleet, the camp she flies
With thunder in her voice and lightning inher eyes
The gallant warriors engage
With inextinguishable rage,

And hearts unchill'd with fear;
Fame numbers all the chosen bands,
Full in the front fair Vict'ry stands
And Triumph crowns the rear.

CHORUS.

The gallant warriors, &c. &c.

DEAR SIR,

HAVING made an humble offering to him, with out whose blessing your skill, admirable as it is, would have been to no purpose, I think myself next acknowledgments to you, who, under God, bound by all the ties of gratitude, to render my

dance.

Trembles the Earth, resound the skies-restored me to health from as violent and dangerous a disorder, as perhaps ever man survived. And my thanks become more particularly your just tribute, since this was the third time, that your judgment and medicines rescued me from the grave, permit me to say, in a manner almost miraculous.

If it be meritorious to have investigated medicines for the cure of distempers, either overlooked or disregarded by all your predecessors, millions yet unborn will celebrate the man, who wrote the Medicinal Dictionary, and invented the Fever Powder.

VIII.

But hark the temple's hollow'd roof resounds,
And Purcell lives along the solemm sounds-
Mellifluous, yet manly too,

He pours his strains along,
As from the lion Sampson flew,
Comes sweetness from the strong.
Not like the soft Italian swains,

Blow on, ye sacred organs, blow,
In tones magnificently slow;
Such is the music, such the lays,
Which suit your fair inventress' praise
While round religious silence reigns,
And loitering winds expect the strains.
Hail majestic mournful measure,
Source of many a pensive pleasure!
Best pledge of love to mortals giv'n,
As pattern of the rest of Heav'n!
And thou chief honour of the veil,
Hail, harmonious Virgin, hail!
When Death shall blot out every name,
And Time shall break the trump of Fame,

Angels may listen to thy lute;
Thy pow'r shall last, thy bays shall bloom,
When tongues shall cease, and worlds consume,
And all the tuneful spheres be mute.
GRAND CHORUS.

When Death shall blot out every name, &c.

He trills the weak enervate strains,

Where sense and music are at strife;
His vigorous notes with meaning teem,
With fire, with force explain the theme,
And sing the subject into life.
Attend he sings Cecilia-matchless dame!
'Tis she-'tis she-fond to extend her fame,
On the loud chords the notes conspire to stay,
And sweetly swell into a long delay,

And dwell delighted on her name.

HYMN

TO THE SUPREME BEING,

ON RECOVERY FROM A DANGEROUS FIT OF ILLNESS.

TO DOCTOR JAMES.

Let such considerations as these, arm you with constancy against the impotent attacks of those whose interest interferes with that of mankind; and let it not displease you to have those for your particular enemies, who are foes to the public in general.

It is no wonder, indeed, that some of the re-. tailers of medicines should zealously oppose whatever might endanger their trade; but 'tis amazing that there should be any physicians mercenary and mean enough to pay their court to, and ingratiate themselves with, such persons, by the strongest efforts to prejudice the inventor of the Fever Powder at the expense of honour, dignity, and conscience. Believe me however, and let this be a part of your consolation, that there are very few physicians in Britain, who were born gentlemen, and whose fortunes place them above such sordid dependen