That spoke so sweetly and so well.
What Paffion cannot Mufick raise and quell!
III.
The Trumpet's loud Clangor
Excites us to Arms,
With shrill Notes of Anger
And mortal Alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thund'ring Drum
Cries, hark! the Foes come ;
Charge, Charge, 'tis too late to retreat.
IV.
The soft complaining Flute
In dying Notes discovers
The Woes of hopeless Lovers,
Whose Dirge is whisper'd by the warbling Lute.
V.
Sharp Violins proclaim
Their jealous Pangs, and Desperation,
Fury, frantick Indignation,
Depth of Pains, and height of Paffion,
For the fair, disdainful, Dame.
VI.
But oh! what Art can teach,
What human Voice can reach,
The facred Organ's praise?
Notes inspiring holy Love,
Notes that wing their Heavenly ways
To mend the Choirs above.
VII.
Orpheus cou'd lead the favage race ;
And Trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the Lyre :
But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:
When to her Organ vocal Breath was giv'n,
An Angel heard, and ftraight appear'd,
Miftaking Earth for Heav'n.
Grand
Grand CHORUS. As from the pow'r of sacred Lays
The Spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the Bless'd above
So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling Pageant fhall devour,
The Trumpet shall be heard on high,
Tbe Dead shall live, the Living die,
And Mufick fall untune the Sky.
On the Young STAT ESME N.
CLA
ILARENDON had Law and Sense,
Clifford was fierce and brave ;
Bennet's grave
Look was a pretence,
And Dy's matchless Impudence
Help'd to support the Knave,
But Sun-d, God-n, -y,
These will appear such Chits in Story,
'Twill turn all Politicks to Jefts, To be repeated like John Dory,
When Fidlers fing at Feafts. Protect us, mighty Providence,
What wou'd these Madmen have?
First, they wou'd bribe us without Pence,
Deceive us without Common Sense,
And without Pow'r enslave.
Shall free-born Men, in humble awe,
Submit to servile Shame ;
Who from Consent and Custom draw
The same Right to be rul'd by Law,
Which Kings pretend to reign ?
The Duke shall wield his conq'ring Sword,
The Chanc'lor make a Speech, The King shall pass his honest Word, The pawnd Revenue Sums afford, And then, come kiss. my
Breech. So have I seen a King on Chess
(His Rooks and Knights withdrawn, His Queen and Bishops in distress) Shifting about, grow less and less,
With here and there .a Pawn.
The TEARS OF AMYNT A, for the
Death of DAMON.
S O N G
I.
N a Bank, beside a Willow,
Sad Amynta figh'd alone :
From the chearless dawn of Morning
'Till the Dews of Night returning,
Singing thus she made her moan :
Hope is banishid,
Joys are vanishid, Damon, my belov'd, is gone!
II. Time, I dare thee to discover Such a Youth, and such a Lover ; Oh so true, so kind was he ! Damon was the pride of Nature, Charming in his every Feature; Damon liv'd alone for me ;
Melting Kiffes,
Murmuring Blifles : Whoso liy'd and lov'd as we !
III.
Never shall we curse the Morning,
Never bless the Night returning,
Sweet Embraces to restore:
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, Love supplying
All the Joys he drain'd before :
Death come end me
To befriend me ;
Love and Damon are no more.
A S O N G.
I.
YLVI A the Fair, in the Bloom of Fifteen,
She had heard of a Pleasure, and something the guest
By the towzing, and tumbling, and touching her Breast :
She saw the Men eager, but was at a Loss,
What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so close ;
By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And fighing and kissing,
And fighing and kifling so close.
II.
Ah! she cry'd; ah for a languishing Maid,
In a Country of Christians, to die without Aid!
Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,
Or a Protestant Parson, or Catholick Priest,
To instruct a young Virgin, that is at a Loss,
What they meant by their fighing, and kising so close!
By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And
And panting and wishing,
And fighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.
III.
Cupid in Shape of a Swain did appear,
He saw the fad Wound, and in Pity drew near ;
Then show'd her his Arrow, and bid her not fear ;
For the Pain was no more than a Maiden may bear :
When the Balm was infus'd, she was not at a Loss,
What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so close;
By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wifhing,
And fighing and kisling,
And fighing and kissing so close.
The LADY's SONG,
I.
Choir of bright Beauties in Spring did appear,
To choofe a May-Lady to govern the Year ;
All the Nymphs were in White, and the Shepherds
in Green ;
The Garland was giv'n, and Phyllis was Queen :
But Phyllis refus'd it, and fighing did say,
I'll not wear a Garland wbile Pan is away.
II.
While Pan, and fair Syrinx, are fled from our Shore,
The Graces are banilh'd, and Love is no more :
The soft God of Pleasure, that warm'dour Desires,
Has broken his Bow, and extinguish'd his Fires :
And vows that himself, and his Mother, will mourn,
Till Pan and fair Syrinx in Triumph return.
III. For.
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