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

Fought 15 all his battles o'er again ; And thrice he routed 16 all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain !

45 The master 17 saw the madness rise ; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; And, while he heav'n and earth defied Chang’d his hand and check'd his pride.

He chose a mournful muse,

Soft pity to infuse : 18
He sung Darius, great and good,

By too severe a fate,
Fall'n ! fall’n ! fall'n! fall'n!
Fall'n from his high estate,

And weltering 20 in his blood !
Deserted at his utmost need
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth exposed he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes !

With downcast look the joyless victor sat,
Revolving, in his alter'd soul,

The various turns of fate below;
And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow!

65 The mighty master smild, to see That love was in the next degree ; 'Twas but a kindred sound to move; For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian 2 measures, 70
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, oh think, it worth enjoying !
The many rend the skies with loud applause :
So love was crowned; but music won the




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 rais'd up his head,

As awak'd from the dead;
And amaz'd he stares around.
Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries-
See the Furies 22 arise !

See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their bair,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand!
These are Grecian ghosts,23 that in battle were

And, unburied, remain
Inglorious on the plain!
Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew!
Behold I bow they toss their torches on high, 100

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 seiz'd a flambeau,24 with zeal to

destroy ;
Thais led the way,

105 To light him to his prey ; And, like another Helen, 2 fired another Troy!



Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learned to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute

And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage—or kindle soft

At last, divine Cecilia 26

Inventress of the vocal frame.
The sweet enthusiast " from her sacred store

Enlarged the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn sounds,
With nature's mother wit, and arts unknown

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

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

She drew an angel down!

I 20


1 Alexander the Great, son of Philip

of Macedon, was born in 356 B.C., and was trained by Aristotle, the great philosopher. He was the greatest general who ever lived. Alexander marched against Darins, king of Persia, who was at the head of 500,000 men at Ar

bela, B.C. 331. The Persians were
totally defeated, and Alexander
took possession of Persepolis in
2 Persia, a country to the west of

3 Valiant, brave,
4 Peers, equals.

5 Desert, that wbich one deserves. was defeated by Alexander, who 6 Thais, one of the ladies attached conquered his kingdom.

to the court of Alexander the 20 Weltering, to roll. Great.

21 Lydia, a province of Asia Minor. 7 Timotheus, a celebrated musiciau 22 Furies, the goddesses of vengeance.

of Boeotia, was a special favourite 23 Grecian ghosts. It is said by Dio. with Alexander. His musical dorus that the sight of 800 Greeks, skill was so great that it is said whom the Persians had mutilated, he could animate his royal patron so exasperated Alexander that he with any passion he desired to permitted his army to plunder move, hy his mastery over “the the capital. At a royal banquet, power of sound.”

given by him to his

thirty gene8 Lyre, a musical instrument, a! rals, being intoxicated, he allowed harp.

the splendid city to be fired, at 9 Deity, a god.

the instigation of Thais. 10 Ravished, delighted.

24 Flambeau, a flaming torch. 11 Assume, to take upon oneself. 25 Helen, the beautiful wife of Mene12 Spheres, worlds.

laus, king of Lacedæmon, was 13 Bacchus, the god of wine.

carried away by Paris, the son of 14 Hautboys, a high-toned wooden Priam, king of Troy. This occa

musical instrument, having a sioned the great Trojan War,

tapering tube with holes and keys. which lasted ten years, when 15 Fought, &c., Alexander imagines Troy was reduced to ashes by the

that he is again on the field of Greeks. battle.

26 Cecilia, the patroness of music, 16 Routed, conquered, defeated.

and regarded as the inventress of 17 The master, the musician. 18 Infuse, to pour into, to inspire. 27 Enthusiast, one who admires or 19 Darius was king of Persia, but loves intensely.

the organ.


On the heights of Killiecrankie yester-morn

our army lay : Slowly rose the mist in columns from the

river's broken way; Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, and the

pass was wrapped in gloom, When the clansmen rose together from their

lair amidst the broom. Then we belted on our tartans, and our bonnets

down we drew, And we felt our broadswords' edges, and we

proved them to be true;


And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, and we

cried the gathering cry; And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, and we

swore to do or die!

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Then our leader rode before us on his war-horse

black as nightWell the Cameronian rebels knew that

charger in the fight! And a cry of exultation from the bearded

warriors rose ; For we loved the house of Claver'se, and we

thought of good Montrose.3

But he raised his hand for silence—“Soldiers !

I have sworn a vow : Ere the evening's sun shall glisten on Schehal

lion's lofty brow Either we shall rest in triumph, or another of the Grames

15 Shall have died in battle-harness for his coun

try and King James !,

Think upon the Royal Martyr'—think of what

his race endureThink on him whom butchers murdered on the

field of Magus Moor : By his sacred blood I charge ye, by the ruined

hearth and shrineBy the blighted hopes of Scotland, by your

injuries and mine


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