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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 oppress’d,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

C H OR US.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,
And figh'd and look’d, sigh'd and look’d,

Sigh'd and look’d, and figh'd again :
At length, with love and wine at once oppress’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 sleep asunder, 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 arise:
See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,
And the sparkles that falh from their eyes

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand ! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slaing,

And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain.
Give the vengeance die

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 hoftile gods !
The princes applaud, with a furious joy ;
And the king seiz’da flambeau, with zeal to destroy ;

Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,
And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

C H O R U S.

And the king seiz'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 swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

At last divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame;

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds,

And added length to foltmn sounds,
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.

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GRAND CHORUS.
At last divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn founds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

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

She drew an angel down.

ODE

ODE FOR

R MUSIC

ON

Sr. CECILIA's D A Y.

This ode has by many been thought equal to the

former. As it is a repetition of Dryden's manner, it is so far inferior to him. The whole hint of Orpheus, with many of the lines, have been taken from an obscure Ode upon Music, published in Tate's Miscellanies.

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ESCEND, ye Nine! descend and fing;

The breathing inftruments inspire ;
Wake into voice each filent ítring,
And sweep the founding lyre!

In a fadly-plealing train
Let the warbling lute complain :

Let the loud trumpet found,
''Till the roofs all around

The fbrill echoes rebound :
While, in more lengthen'd notes, and now,
The deep, majestic, folemn crgans, blow,

Hark! the numbers, soft and clear,
Gently steal

upon
Now louder, and yet louder rife,
And fill with spreading founds the kies;

Exulting

the ear ;

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Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats;

'Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The strains decay,

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.

II.

By Music, minds an equal temper know,

Nor swell too high, nor fink too low. If in the breast tumultuous joys arise, Mufic her soft, assuasive voice applies ;

Or, when the soul is press’d with cares,

Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors she fires with animated sounds ;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds ;

Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,

Liftning Envy drops her snakes
Intestine war no more our paflions wage,
And giddy factions hear away their rage.

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III.

But, when our country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial music ev'ry bofom warms !
So, when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas,
High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain,

While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.

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