While in more lengthen'd notes and flow Hark! the numbers foft and clear, Now louder and yet louder rife, And fill with spreading founds the skies; Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats; Till, by degrees, remote and fmall, The ftrains decay, And melt away In a dying, dying fall. By Mufic, minds an equal temper know, Warriors the fires with animated founds: Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds: Morpheus roufes from his bed, But when our country's cause provokes to arms, While Argo faw her kindred trees Each chief his fev'nfold fhield difplay'd, But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led O'er all the dreary coafts? Fires that glow, Shrieks of woe, Sullen moans, . Hollow groans, And cries of tortur'd ghofts; But hark! he ftrikes the golden lyre; Thy ftone, O Syfiphus, ftands ftill, And the pale fpe&tres dance! The furies fink upon their iron beds, And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads. By By the ftreams that ever flow, By the fragrant winds that blow O'er th' Elyfian flow'rs; By thofe happy fouls who dwell In yellow meads of Afphodel, To hear the Poet's prayer: And gave him back the fair: Thus fong could prevail O'er death and o'er hell, A conqueft how hard, and how glorious! With Styx nine times round her, Yet mufic and love were victorious. But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes: No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. Now under hanging mountains, Befide the falls of fountains, Or where Hebrus wanders, Rolling in meanders, All alone, Unheard, Unheard, unknown, He makes his moần; And calls her gholt, For ever, ever, ever loft! Now with Furies furrounded, Defpairing, confounded, He trembles, he glows, Amidst Rhodope's fnows: See, wild as the winds, o'er the defert he flies; Ah fee, he dies! Yet even in death Eurydice he fung, Eurydice ftill trembled on his tongue, Eurydice the woods, Eurydice the floods, Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. Mufic the fierceft grief can charm, Mufic can foften pain to ease, And make defpair and madness please: And antedate the blifs above. This the divine Cecilia found, And to her Maker's praife confin'd the found. Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear: And angels lean from heav'n to hear. Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell, To bright Cecilia greater power is giv'n; His His numbers rais'd a fhade from hell, CHA P. XXXIII. ALEXANDER's FEAST. WAS at the royal feast, for Perfia won, 'TWAS By Philip's warlike fon': Aloft in awful state The god-like hero fate. On his imperial throne : His valiant peers were plac'd around ; Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound: The lovely Thais by his fide Sat, like a blooming eaftern bride,, In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride. None but the brave, None but the brave deferves the fair. Timotheus plac'd on high Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touch'd the lyre: The trembling notes afcend the sky, The fong began from Jove; Who left his blifsful feats above, Such is the pow'r of mighty love! РОРЕ. A dra |