The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd, Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again : At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd, The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

CHORUS.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd, Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again :

At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd, The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breaft.

VI.

Now strike the golden lyre again :

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.

Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder.

Hark! hark! the horrid found

Has rais'd up his head,

As awak'd from the dead,

And, amaz'd, he ftares around.

Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus cries,

See the furies arife:

See the fnakes that they rear,

How they hifs in their hair,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were flain,

And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain.

Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew.

Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,

And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods!
The princes applaud, with a furious joy;

And the king feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

CHORUS.

And the king feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

VII.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;

Timotheus, to his breathing flute

And founding lyre,

Cou'd fwell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire.
At laft divine Cecilia came,

Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The sweet enthusiast, from her facred store,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn founds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize;

Or both divide the crown;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies;

She drew an angel down.

GRAND CHORUS.

At laft divine Cecilia came,

Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred store,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,
And added length to folemn founds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

ODE

ODE FOR MUSIC

O N

ST. CECILIA's DA Y.

This ode has by many been thought equal to the former. As it is a repetition of Dryden's manner, it is fo far inferior to him. The whole hint of Orpheus, with many of the lines, have been taken from an obfcure Ode upon Music, published in Tate's Mifcellanies.

D

I.

ESCEND, ye Nine! defcend and fing;
The breathing inftruments infpire;

Wake into voice each filent ftring,

And fweep the founding lyre!

In a fadly-pleafing train

Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet found,
"Till the roofs all around

The fhrill echoes rebound:

While, in more lengthen'd notes, and flow,
The deep, majeftic, folemn organs, blow,
Hark! the numbers, foft and clear,

Gently feal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rife,

And fill with spreading founds the skies;

Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats;
"Till, by degrees, remote and small,
The ftrains decay,

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.

II.

By Mufic, minds an equal temper know,
Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low.
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Mufic her foft, affuafive voice applies;
Or, when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.

Warriors fhe fires with animated founds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;
Melancholy lifts her head,

Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes;
Inteftine war no more our paflions wage,
And giddy factions hear away their rage.

III.

But, when our country's caufe provokes to arms, How martial mufic ev'ry bofom warms!

So, when the first bold veffel dar'd the feas,
High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his strain,

While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main.

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