A dragon's fiery form bely'd the God:

Sublime on radiant fpheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,

And ftamp'd an image of himself, a fov'reign of the world.The lining crowd admire the lofty found;

A prefent deity they fhout around,

A prefent deity the vaulted roofs rebound:
With ravish'd ears

The monarch hears,

Affumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And feems to shake the fpheres.

The praife of Bacchus then, the fweet mufician fung:
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young:

The jolly god in triumph comes;

Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Fluth'd with a purple grace

He fhews his honest face.

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!

Bacchus ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did firft ordain:
Bacchus' bleffings are a treafure,
Drinking is the foldier's pleafure.
Rich the treafure,

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain ;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the flain.

The mafter faw the madness ife;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And

And while he heav'n and earth defy'd
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.

He chofe a mournful mufe

Soft pity to infufe:

He fung Darius great and good,

By too fevere a fate,

Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,

Fall'n from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood:
Deferted at his utmost need,
By thofe his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcaft look the joyless victor fate,"
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of fate below;
And now and then a figh he stole;
And tears began to flow.

The mighty mafter fmil'd, to fee
That love was in the next degree:
"Twas but a kindred found to move:
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly fweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War he fung is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting fill, and still destroying:
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O, think it worth enjoying!

Lovely Thais fits befide thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.— The many rend the fkies with loud applaufe; So love was crown'd, but mufic won the cause. 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.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again;

And louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain,
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 the air,

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand,

These 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

Behold how they tofs their torches on high,

How they point to the Perfian abodes,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile 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, fired another Troy.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;

Timotheus to his breathing flute

And founding lyre,

Could fwell the foul to rage, or kindle soft 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.

XXXIV.

СНАР.

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCKMORTON'S

YE

BULFINCH.

E nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless fav'rites fhed,
Oh fhare Maria's grief!

Her fav'rite, even in his cage,
(What will not hunger's cruel rage?)
Affaffin'd by a thief.

Where Rhenus frays his vines among,
The egg was laid from which he sprung,
And though by nature mute,

Or only with a whistle bleft,
Well-taught, he all the founds exprefs'd
Of flagelet or flute.

The honours of his ebon poll

Were brighter than the fleekest mole;
His bofom of the hue

With which Aurora decks the fkies,
When piping winds fhall foon arise
To fweep up all the dew.

Above, below, in all the house,
Dire foe, alike to bird and moufe,

On

No cat had leave to dwell;

And Bully's cage fupported ftood, props of smootheft-shaven wood, Large-built and lattic'd well.

Well