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A dragon's fiery form bely'd the God :
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press’d,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a fov'reign of the world.
The liftning crowd admire the lofty found ;
A present deity they shout around,
A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound;
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Affumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.
The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician fung:
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young :
The jolly god in triumph comes ;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ;
Flush'd with a purple grace
He shews his honest face,
To give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes !
Bacchus ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain :
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure ;
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Sooth’d with the sound, the king grew vain ;
Fought all his battles o'er again ;
And thrice he routed all his foes; and thricehe flew the sain.
The master saw the madness rise His glowing cheeks, his ardent cyes ;
And while he heav'n and earth defy'd
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride,
He chose a mournful muse
Soft pity to infuse:
He fung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate,
Fall'n, fill'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fall’n from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood :
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies.
With not a friend to close his
With downcast look the joyless victor fate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of fate below
And now and then a figh he stole ;
And tears began to flow.
The mighty master smil'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 sweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War he sung is toil and trouble ; Honour but an empty bubble;
Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying :
If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O, think it worth enjoying !
Lovely Thais fits beside thee,
Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So love was crown'd, but music wori 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 ligh'd again ;
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.
Now strike the golden lyre again ;
And louder yet, and yet a louder strain,
Break his bands of fleep asunder,
And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder,
Hark, hark, the horrid found
his head ;
As awak'd from the dead,
And amaz’d, he stares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
See the furies arise,
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !
Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand,
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were sain,
And unbury'd remain
Inglorious on the plaiur';
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew;
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittring temples of their hoftile gods! -
The Princes applaud with a furious joy ;
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, fired another Troy -
: Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving belows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute;
Timotheus to his breathing flute
And founding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft defire..
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,
Or both divide the crown ;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down,
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCKMORTON'S
E nymphıs ! if e'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless fay’rites shed,
Oh share Maria's grief :
Her fav’rite, even in his cage,
(What will not hunger's cruel rage ?)
Assassin'd by a thief.
Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
The egg was laid from which he fprung,
And though by nature mute,
Or only with a whistle bleft,
Well taught, he all the sounds express'd
Of fagelet or flute,
The honours of his ebon poll
Were brighter than the sleekest mole;
His bosom of the hue
With which Aurora decks the skies,
When piping winds shall soon arise
To sweep up all the dew
Above, below, in all the house,
Dire foe, alike to bird and mouse,
No cat had leave to dwell;
And Bully's cage supported stood,
On props of smoothest-shaven wood
Large-built and lattic'd well