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Till by degrees, remote and small,
By music, minds an equal temper know,
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. If in the breast tumultuous joys arise, Music her soft, assuasive voice applies ;
Or, when the soul is press’d with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Melancholy lifts her head,
Listening Envy drops her snakes;
But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
While Argo saw her kindred trees
And men grew heroes at the sound,
To arms, to arms, to arms!
But when through all the’ infernal bounds,
Love, strong as death, the poet led
To the pale nations of the dead,
See, shady forms advance !
And the pale spectres dance;
By the streams that ever flow,
O'er the Elysian flowers;
Or amaranthine bowers;
Restore, restore Eurydice to life;
sung, and Hell consented
Thus song could prevail
O’er Death and o'er Hell,
Though Fate had fast bound her,
With Styx nine times round her, Yet Music and Love were victorious.
But soon, too soon, the lover turns his
Now under hanging mountains,
And calls her ghost,
Amidst Rhodope's snows:
Ah see, he dies !
Yet e’en in death Eurydice he sung,
Eurydice the woods,
Eurydice the floods, Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung.
Music the fiercest grief can charm,
And antedate the bliss above.
The immortal powers incline their ear; Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire, While solemn airs improve the sacred fire,
And angels lean from Heaven to hear. Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell ; To bright Cecilia greater power is given : His numbers raised a shade from Hell,
Her's lift the soul to Heaven.
ODE ON SOLITUDE.
WRITTEN WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS ABOUT TWELVE
HAPPY the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Bless'd who can unconcern’dly find
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day:
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation ; And innocence, which most does please,
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die:
Tell where I lie.
The Dying Christian to his Soul.
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying ;
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond Nature! cease thy strife, And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away.