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By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell;" In one sad day beheld the gates of hell: While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled! My mother liv'd to bear the victor's bands, The queen of Hippoplacia's silvan lands: Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again Her pleasing empire and her native plain, When, ah! opprest by life-consuming woe, She fell a victim to Diana's bow.
Yet while my Hector still survives; I see My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee; Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: O prove a husband's and a father's care! That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, Where yon' wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy : Thou, from this tower defend the' important post; There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain,
And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.
Let others in the field their arms employ,
How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd, And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground,
Attaint the lustre of my former name,
Should Hector basely quit the field of fame?
The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend,
And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind,
And woes, of which so large a part was thine!
The thoughts of glory past, and present shame,
ODE ON ST. CECILIA's DAY.
[Written in the Year 1708.]
AND OTHER PIECES FOR MUSIC.
DESCEND, ye Nine! descend and sing;
The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into voice each silent string,
Let the warbling lute complain;
While in more lengthen'd notes and slow
Now louder, and yet louder rise,
And fill with spreading sounds the skies: Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; Till by degrees, remote and small,
The strains decay,
And melt away
In a dying, dying fall.
By music minds an equal temper know,
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
Morpheus rouses from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
Listening Envy drops her snakes ;
Intestine war no more our passions wage,
But when our country's cause provokes to arms, How martial music every bosom warms!
So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas,
High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain,
Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,
But when through all the' infernal bounds,
What scenes appear'α,
O'er all the dreary coasts!
Fires that glow,
Shrieks of woe,
And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
Thy stone, O Sisyphus! stands still,
Ixion rests upon his wheel,
And the pale spectres dance;
The furies sink upon their iron beds,
And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.
By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow
By those happy souls who dwell
Or amaranthine bowers;
Restore, restore Eurydice to life;
Ob, take the husband, or return the wife !-
To hear the poet's pray'r:
O'er death and o'er hell,
A conquest how hard and how glorious!
Though fate had fast bound her,
With Styx nine times round her,
But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes;
Beside the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in meanders,
For ever, ever, ever lost!
He trembles, he glows,
Amidst Rhodope's snows:
See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies; Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries
Ah see, he dies!.
Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung,
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue;
Eurydice the woods,
Eurydice the floods,
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung.