TE DEUM. THEE, Sovereign God, our grateful Accents | Thou King of Glory, Christ, of the Most praise; We own thee Lord, and bless thy wondrous ways; To thee, Eternal Father, Earth's whole Frame With loudest Trumpets sounds immortal Fame. Lord God of Hosts! for thee the heav'nly Pow'rs With sounding Anthems fill the vaulted Thy Cherubims thrice Holy, Holy, Holy cry;} Both Heav'n and Earth thy Majesty display; 10 They owe their Beauty to thy glorious Ray. Thy Praises fill the loud Apostles' Quire: The Train of Prophets in the Song conspire. Legions of Martyrs in the Chorus shine, And vocal Blood with vocal Musick join. By these thy Church, inspir'd by heav'nly Art, Around the World maintains a second Part, And tunes her sweetest Notes, O God, to thee, The Father of unbounded Majesty ; High Have Mercy on us, Lord, have Mercy still: As we have hop'd, do thou reward our Pain ; The Son, ador'd Co-partner of thy Seat, 20 We've hop'd in thee, let not our Hope be And equal everlasting Paraclete. vain. HYMN FOR THE NATIVITY OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST, 24TH JUNE. O SYLVAN Prophet! whose eternal Fame The Musick of our Numbers raise, A Messenger from high Olympus came TE DEUM. First printed as Dryden's by Scott from a Roman Catholic Primer of Hymns, 1706. HYMN FOR THE NATIVITY OF ST. JOHN. Printed with an incorrect title by Scott from the same. The title was corrected by Saintsbury, who adds Hearing the News, and doubting in Surprize, In the Recess of Nature's dark Abode, Whilst each glad Parent told and blest other verses from the Primer. There is no proof that these are Dryden's, and in any case, since the compilers of Hymn Books often deal immorally with their texts, it seems best not to publish what may be spurious and is certainly corrupt. LINES IN A LETTER TO HIS LADY COUSIN, WHO HAD GIVEN HIM A SILVER INKSTAND, WITH A SET OF FOR since 'twas mine, the white hath lost | You, Fairest Nymph, are Waxe: Oh may its Hiew, To show twas n'ere it selfe but whilst in The virgin Waxe hath blush'd it selfe to red you bee As well in Softnesse as in Purity! Till Fate and your own happy Choice reveale Whom you so farre shall bless to make your | Seale. LINES PRINTED UNDER THE ENGRAVED PORTRAIT IN TONSON'S FOLIO EDITION OF THE 'PARADISE LOST,' 1688. THREE Poets, in three distant Ages born, To make a third she join'd the former two. IMPROMPTU LINES ADDRESSED TO HIS COUSIN, IN A CONVERSATION AFTER DINNER ON THE ORIGIN OF NAMES. SONGS FROM THE PLAYS. SONG OF AERIAL SPIRITS, FROM THE INDIAN QUEEN. FROM THE SAME AH fading joy, how quickly art thou past! Yet we thy ruine haste: POOR Mortals that are clog'd with Earth As if the Cares of Humane Life were few, below We seek out new, And follow Fate that does too fast pursue. See how on ev'ry Bough the Birds express Such troubles chuse to know, Hark, hark, the Waters fall, fall, fall FROM THE MAIDEN QUEEN. 10 I LOOK'D and saw within the Book of Fate, Thus to prevent my love from being cruel, When many Days did lower, Leapt up, and smil'd to save thy sinking State; A day shall come when in thy pow'r Then shall thy Land be free And then in Peace shall Raign: But take, O take that opportunity, Which once refus'd will never come again. FROM THE INDIAN EMPeror. 4 thy] the some edd. My heart's the sacrifice as 'tis the fuel: 10 And while I suffer thus to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, tho he deny it. On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight FROM AN EVENING'S LOVE. You charm'd me not with that fair face Though it was all Divine: To be anothers is the Grace, That makes me wish you mine. First mad with hope we undertake But once possess'd we faintly make Now ev'ry Friend is turn'd a foe In hope to get our store; Had never like me, a Slave under his Pow'r. And passion makes us Cowards grow Then the more I do struggle the lower I fall. Heaven does not impart Which made us brave before. FROM THE SAME. ΙΟ Such a grace as to love unto ev'ry one's When, with a Sigh, she accords me the heart; For many may wish To be wounded, and miss. Then blest be loves Fire, Ah what a joy 'tis, beyond all Express ing, Ah what a joy to hear, shall we again ! FROM THE SAME. CALM was the Even, and clear was the Sky, And the new-budding Flowers did spring, When all alone went Amyntas and I To hear the sweet Nightingal sing; I sate, and he laid him down by me; But scarcely his breath he could draw; For when with a fear, he began to draw near, He was dash'd with A ha ha ha ha! He blush'd to himself, and lay still for a while, IO And his modesty curb'd his desire; But straight I convinc'd all his fear with a smile, Which added new Flames to his Fire. O Sylvia, said he, you are cruel, To keep your poor Lover in awe ; Then once more he prest with his hand to my brest But was dash'd with A ha ha ha ha. I knew 'twas his passion that caus'd all his fear; And therefore I pity'd his Case: I whisper'd him softly, there's no body here And laid my Cheek close to his Face: 20 But as he grew bolder and bolder, A Shepheard came by us and saw; And just as our bliss we began with a Kiss, He laugh'd out with A ha ha ha ha. |