Come then, my Friend! my Genius! come along;
Oh, mafter of the poet and the fong!
And while the Mufe now ftoops, or now afcends,
To man's low paffions or their glorious ends,
Teach me, like thee, in various Nature wife,
To fall with dignity, with temper rife-
Oh! while along the ftream of time thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,
Say, fhall my little bark attendant fail,
Purfue the triumph, and partake the gale?
Shall then this Verfe to future age pretend
Thou wert my guide, philofopher, and friend?
That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art
From founds to things, from fancy to the heart?
For Wit's falfe mirror held up Nature's light,
Shew'd ering Pride whatever is is right.
That virtue only makes our blifs below,
And all our knowledge is ourselves to know.
Efay on Man.
PRINTED AND EMBELLISHED
Under the Direction of
C. COOKE,
FOR
AND OTHER PIECES FOR MUSIC.
[Written in the Year 1708.]
DESCEND, ye Nine! descend and fing,
The breathing inftruments inspire;
Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And fweep 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 steal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rife,
And fill with spreading founds the fkies.
Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes,
In broken air trembling the wild music 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,
Nor fwell too high nor fink too low.
If in the breaft tumultuous joys arife,
Mufic her foft affuafive voice applies;
Or when the foul is prefs'd with cares
Exalts her in enliv'ning airs.
Warriors fhe fires with animated founds,
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds ;
Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus roufes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
Lift'ning Envy drops her snakes;
Inteftine war no more our paffions wage,
And giddy factions bear away their rage.
But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial mufic ev'ry bofom warms!
So when the first bold veffel dar'd the feas,
High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his strain,`
While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main :
Transported demigods ftood round,
And men grew heroes at the found,
Inflam'd with Glory's charms:
Each chief his fev'nfold fhield difplay'd,
And half unfheath'd the fhining blade;
And feas, and rocks, and skies, rebound,
To arms, to arms, to arms!
But when thro' all th' infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegethon furrounds,
Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led
To the pale nations of the dead,.
What founds were heard,
What fcenes appear'd,
O'er all the dreary coafts!
Dreadful gleams,
Difmal fcreams,
Fires that glow,
And, fee! the tortur'd gholts refspire;
And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre,
Thy ftone, O Sifyphus! ftands ftill,
Ixion refts upon his wheel,
And the pale spectres dance;
The Furies fink upon their iron beds,
And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads.
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