With down-caft looks the joyless victor fate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of chance below;

And, now and then, a figh he stole;
And tears began to flow.

CHORUS.

Revolving in his alter'd foul

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

V.

The mighty mafter 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 fweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War, he fung, his toil and trouble;
Honour, but an empty bubble:

Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting ftill, and fill deftroying:

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.
many rend the skies with loud applause;

The

So Love was crown'd, but Music 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 oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

CHORUS.

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 oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

VI.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again :

A louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain.

Break his bands of sleep asunder,

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 arise:

See the fnakes that they rear,

How they hifs in their hair,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Those are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain,

And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain.

Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew.

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 deftroy;
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

CHORUS.

And the king feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to deftroy; Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

VII.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;

Timotheus, to his breathing flute

And founding lyre,

Cou'd fwell the foul to rage, or kindle foft 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.

GRAND CHORUS.

At last divine Cecilia came,

Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore,
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.

ODE

ODE FOR MUSIC

O N

ST. CECILIA's DAY.

This ode has by many been thought equal to the former. As it is a repetition of Dryden's manner, it is fo far inferior to him. The whole hint of Orpheus, with many of the lines, have been taken from an obfcure Ode upon Mufic, published in Tate's Mifcellanies.

D

I.

ESCEND, ye Nine! descend and fing;
The breathing inftruments infpire;

Wake into voice each filent ftring,

And sweep the founding lyre!

In a fadly-pleafing strain

Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet found,
'Till the roofs all around

The fhrill echoes rebound:

While, in more lengthen'd notes, and flow,
The deep, majeftic, folemn organs, blow.
Hark! the numbers, foft and clear,

Gently fteal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rife,

And fill with spreading founds the skies;