Has almost lost its sense, yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourned 't will fall SIR THOMAS NOON TAL FOURD. FIRST LOVE. FROM "DON JUAN." "T IS sweet to hear, At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep, The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellowed, o'er the waters sweep; 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear; "T is sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 't is sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky. "T is sweet to hear the watch dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; "T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come; 'Tis sweet to be awakened by the lark, Or lulled by falling waters; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words. Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes "T is sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels, Dear is the helpless creature we defend Against the world; and dear the school-boy spot We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot. But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, Is first and passionate love, it stands alone, Like Adam's recollection of his fall; The tree of knowledge has been plucked, —all 's known, And life yields nothing further to recall Worthy of this ambrosial sin, so shown, No doubt in fable, as the unforgiven Fire which Prometheus filched for us from heaven. LORD BYRON. ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC. AN ODE. 'T WAS at the royal feast, for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne : His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. CHORUS. Happy, happy, happy pair I None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. Timotheus, placed on high With flying fingers touched the lyre; And heavenly joys inspire. Who left his blissful seats above When he to fair Olympia pressed, And while he sought her snowy breast; The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, Affects to nod, And seems to shake the spheres. Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise; Changed his hand, and checked his pride. Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius, great and good, By too severe a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, And weltering in his blood; The various turns of chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole ; And tears began to flow. CHORUS. Revolving in his altered soul The various turns of chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole; And tears began to flow. The mighty master smiled, to see Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying: If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O, think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee. The many rend the skies with loud applause ; So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, CHORUS. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, Sighed and looked, and sighed again : At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. Now strike the golden lyre again : A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head; As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares 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 flash from their eyes! Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew. Behold how they toss their torches on high, And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy: To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy ! CHORUS. And I so lowly be, Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony. Hark! how the strings awake: And, though the moving hand approach not near, A kind of numerous trembling make. Now all thy charms apply; Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye. Weak Lyre thy virtue sure And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; Is useless here, since thou art only found Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy ! INVOCATION. FROM "THE DAVIDEIS." AWAKE, awake, my Lyre! And tell thy silent master's humble tale FROM "MERCHANT OF VENICE." LORENZO. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Become the touches of sweet harmony. Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : But in his motion like an angel sings, Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, — JESSICA. I am never merry when I hear sweet Sweet lessons of her forceful art, LOR. The reason is your spirits are attentive. Would prove his own expressive power. First Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewildered laid, Next Anger rushed; his eyes, on fire, Low, sullen sounds, his grief beguiled, · 'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: First to the lively pipe his hand addrest ; Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best; They would have thought, who heard the strain, They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal-sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, As if he would the charming air repay, O Music! sphere-descended maid, Where is thy native simple heart, |