The judge Almighty heard his suppliant's moan, Repeal'd his sentence, and his health restor❜d; The beams of mercy on his temples shone, Shot from that Heaven to which his sighs had The Sun retreated at his maker's nod [soar'd; And miracles confirm the genuine work of God. But, O immortals! What had Ito plead [lance, When Death stood o'er me with his threat'ning When reason left me in the time of need, And sense was lost in terrour or in trance, My sinking soul was with my blood inflam'd, And the celestial image sunk,defac'd and maim'd. The virtuous partner of my nuptial bands, Appear'd a widow to my frantic sight; My little prattlers lifting up their hands, Beckon me back to them, to life, and light; I come, ye spotless sweets! I come again, Nor have your tears been shed, nor have ye knelt in vain. All glory to th' Eternal, to th' Immense, All glory to th' Omniscient and Good, [tense, Whose powr's uncircumscrib'd, whose love's in But yet whose justice ne'er could be withstood. Except thro' him-thro' him, who stands alone, Of worth, of weight allow'd for all mankind t' atone! He rais'd the lame, the lepers he made whole, He fix'd the palsied nerves of weak decay, He drove out Satan from the tortur'd soul, And to the blind gave or restor❜d the day,Nay more, far more unequal'd pangs sustain'd, Till his lost fallen flock his taintless blood regain'd. My feeble feet refus'd my body's weight, Nor wou'd my eyes admit the glorious light, My nerves convuls'd shook fearful of their fate, My mind lay open to the powers of night. He pitying did a second birth bestow A birth of joy-not like the first of tears and woe. Ye strengthen'd feet, forth to his altar move; Quicken, ye new-strung nerves, th' enraptur'd lyre; Ye Heav'n-directed eyes, o'erflow with love; Glow, glow, my soul, with pure seraphic fire; Deeds, thoughts, and words no more his mandates break, But to his endless glory work, conceive, and speak. O! penitence, to virtue near allied, Thou can'st new joys e'en to the blest impart; The list'ning angels lay their harps aside To hear the music of thy contrite heart; And Heav'n itself wears a more radiant face, When charity presents thee to the throne of grace. Chief of metallic forms is regal gold' ; Of elements, the limpid fount that flows; Give me 'mongst gems the brilliant to behold; O'er Flora's flock imperial is the rose: Above all birds the sov'reign eagle soars ; And monarch of the field the lordly lion roars. What can with great Leviathan compare, Who takes his pastime in the mighty main? What, like the Sun, shines thro' the realms of air, And gilds and glorifies th' ethereal plain ?—— Yet what are these to man, who bears the sway'; For all was made for him-to serve and to obey. Thus in high Heaven charity is great, Faith, hope, devotion hold a lower place; On her the cherubs and the seraphs wait, Her, every virtue courts, and every grace; See! on the right, close by th' Almighty's throne, In him she shines confest, who came to make her known. s Pind. Olymp. 1. 24 a It would not be right to conclude, without fter Mr. Dryden and Mr. Pope, would be great presumption, which is the reason he detains the leader in 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 not his choice, but imposed upon him by a gen-taking notice of a fine subject for au 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 He was much quisite art he is above most of his profession. troubled with the evil spirit. 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 would have authors, as well as bad ones, rule which Fresnoy prescribes to the painters; made use of it, had they not been convinced of which is likewise applicable to the poets. As for the writer of this piece, he it's cogency. 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 He does not pretend to equal mean abilities. 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 '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, 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 A conquest how hard and how glorious ! 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 tum actam Post hyemen nimbis transfuso sole caducam; bentem. THE ARGUMENT. Stanza I, II. Invocation of men and angels to The divine join in the praise of S. Cecilia. 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 your lyre-enchanted tow'rs, While each orb in ether swims Hither Paradise remove Spirits of Harmony and Love! Thou too, divine Urania, deign t' appear, And with thy sweetly-solemn lute To the grand argument the numbers suit ; Mix on your ambrosial tongue Weight of sense with sound of song, And be angelically gay. CHORUS. Disdainful, &c. &c. II. And you, ye sons of Harmony below, How little less than angels, when ye sing! Shall Echo from her vocal cave She did and other rites to greater pow'rs are due. Let the winged numbers climb: Solemn, sacred, and sublime: CHORUS. Spreads the placid bed of peace, While each blast, Or breathes it's last, Or just does sigh a symphony and cease. CHORUS. IV. Behold Arion on the stern he stands To the mute strings he moves th' enliv'ning hands, By the bright beams of Cynthia's eyes And hesitates into a gem; Great Amphitrite (for thou can'st bind The storm and regulate the wind) Hence waft me, fair goddess, oh, waft me away, Secure from the men and the monsters of prey! CHORUS. Great Amphitrite, &c. &c. V. vi. But o'er th' affections too she claims the sway, And in the visions of the night, And all the day-dreams of the light, But let the skilful bard appear, Notes that mean a world of woe ;' Sing some sad, some &c. &c. VII. While Harmony, terrific maid! Swift o'er the fleet, the camp she flies And hearts unchill'd with fear; CHORUS. The gallant warriors, &c. &c. DEAR SIR, an humble offering to him, without 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 dan gerous a disorder, as perhaps ever man survived. just tribute, since this was the third time, that And my thanks become more particularly your your judgment and medicines rescued me from the grave, permit me to say, in a manner almost miraculous. VIII. But hark the temple's hollow'd roof resounds, He pours his strains along, Blow on, ye sacred organs, blow, When Death shall blot out every name, &c. He trills the weak enervate strains, Where sense and music are at strife; And dwell delighted on her name. HYMN TO THE SUPREME BEING, ON RECOVERY FROM A DANGEROUS FIT OF ILLNESS. TO DOCTOR JAMES. If it be meritorious to have investigated medi-" cines 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. 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 retailers 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 "And must I go," th' illustrious mourner cry'd, "I who have serv'd thee still in faith and truth, Whose snow-white conscience no foul crime has died From youth to manhood, infancy to youth, Like David, who have still rever'd thy word The sovereign of myself and servant of the Lord!" The judge Almighty heard his suppliant's moan, Repeal'd his sentence, and his health restor❜d; The beams of mercy on his temples shone, Shot from that Heaven to which his sighs had The Sun retreated at his maker's nod [soar'd; And miracles confirm the genuine work of God. My feeble feet refus'd my body's weight, Nor wou'd my eyes admit the glorious light, My nerves convuls'd shook fearful of their fate, My mind lay open to the powers of night. He pitying did a second birth bestow A birth of joy-not like the first of tears and woe. Ye strengthen'd feet, forth to his altar move; Quicken, ye new-strung nerves, th' enraptur'd lyre; Ye Heav'n-directed eyes, o'erflow with love; Glow, glow, my soul, with pure seraphic fire; Deeds, thoughts, and words no more his mandates break, But to his endless glory work, conceive, and speak. |
0 Rezensionen Rezensionen werden nicht überprüft, Google sucht jedoch gezielt nach gefälschten Inhalten und entfernt diese Rezension schreiben |