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 look:s the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd sous
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,
IIonour 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 look'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 thunde
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 hosti e 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 Aute
And sounding lyre
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last divine Cecilia came.
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds,
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown befo e
-Let old Timotheus yield the prize
Or both divide the crown;
He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down !
J. Dryilen
ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FRON
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.
Smiles on past misfortune's brow
Soft reflection's hand can trace,
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace ;
While hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lour
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy pleasure leads,
See a kindred grief pursue ;
Behind the steps that misery treads
Approaching comfort view :
The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
And blended form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost
And breathe and walk again :
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
T. Gray
ODE TO SIMPLICITY
O Thou, by Nature taught
To breathe her genuine thought
In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong ;
Who first, on mountains wild,
In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song !
Thou, who with hermit heart,
Disdain'st the wealth of art, And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall,
But com'st, a decent maid
In Attic robe array'd,
O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call !
By all the honey'd store
On Hybla's thymy shore, By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear ;
By her whose love-lc»n woe
In evening musings slow
Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poe's ear :
By old Cephisus deep,
Who spread his wavy sweep In warbled wanderings round thy green retreat ;
On whose enameli'd side,
When holy Freedom died,
No equal haunt allured thy future feet :-
O sister meek of Truth,
To my admiring youth
Thy sober aid and native charms insuse !
The flowers that sweetest breathe,
Though Beauty culld the wreath,
Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues.
While Rome could none esteem
But Virtue's patriot theme, You loved her hills, and led her laureat band ;
But stay'd to sing alone
To one distinguish'd throne ;
And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.
No more, in hall or bower,
The Passions own thy power ; Love, only Love, her forceless numbers niean :
For thou hast lest her shrine ;
Nor olive more, nor vine,
Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene.
Though taste, though genius, bless
To some divine excess, Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole ;
What each, what all supply
May court, may charm our eye ;
Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul !
Of these let others ask
To aid some mighty task ;
|