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Timotheus placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre :
The trembling notes ascend the sky
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove
Who left his blissful seats above-
Such is the power of mighty love !
A dragon's fiery form belied the god;
Sublime on radiant spires he rode
When he to fair Olympia prest,
And while he sought her snowy breast;
Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the

world.
-The listening crowd admire the lofty sound !
A present deity ! they shout around :
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound !
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god ;
Affects to nod
And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung :
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young :
The jolly god in triumph comes !
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums !
Flush'd with a purple grace
He shows his honest face :
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes !
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain ;
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure :
Rich the treasure
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain ; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew

the slain !

The master saw the madness rise,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ;
And while he Heaven and Earth defied
Changed his hand and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful Muse
Soft pity to infuse :
He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And weltering 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 looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of Chance below;
And now and then a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smiled 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 measures Soon' he soothed 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, O think, it worth enjoying : Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee ! -The many rend the skies with loud applause ; So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sigh’d and look’d, sigh'd and lock’d, Sigh'd and look’d, and sigh'd again :

At length with love and wine at once opprest
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

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 raised up his head : As awaked from the dead And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise ! See the snakes that they rear How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes ! Behold a ghastly band Each a torch in his hand ! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods. -The princes applaud with a furious joy: And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And like another Helen, fired another Troy!

---Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn’d to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute
And sounding lyre
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle sort desire.
At last divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,

106

Book Second

And added length to solemn sounds,
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
-Let old Timotheus yield the prize
Or both divide the crown;
He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down!

7. Dryden

The Golden Treasury

Book Third

CXVII

ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM

VICISSITUDE

Now the golden Morn aloft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft

She woos the tardy Spring :
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o'er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,

Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance

The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the sky-lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,

The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know ;
'Tis Man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.

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