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But when through all th' infernal bounds,
Love, ftrong as Death, the poet led
O'er all the dreary coafts?
Fires that glow,
And cries of tortur'd ghosts;
And the pale spectres dance!
The furies fink upon their Iron beds,
And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads.
By the fragrant winds that blow
O'er th' Elyfian flow'rs;
Reftore, reftore Eurydice to life:
He fung, and Hell confented
To hear the Poet's Prayer:
him back the fair:
Thus fong could prevail
O'er Death and o'er Hell,
A conqueft how hard, and how glorious!
With Styx nine times round her,
Yet Mufic and Love were victorious.
But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes:
Befide the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in meanders,
He trembles, he glows,
Amidst Rhodope's fnows:
See, wild as the winds, o'er the defert he flies;
Hark! Hamus refounds with the Bacchanal's cries
Yet even in death Eurydice he fung,
Eurydice ftill trembled on his tongue,
Eurydice the woods,
Eurydice the floods,
Ah fee, he dies!
Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.
Mufic the fierceft grief can charm,
And fate's feverest rage difarm;
Mufic can foften pain to ease,
And make defpair and madnefs pleafe;
This the divine Cecilia found,
And to her Maker's praife confin'd the found,
'Twas at the royal feast, for Perfia won
By Philip's warlike fon:
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero fate
On his imperial Throne :
His valiant Peers were plac'd around;
Their brows with rofes and with myrtle bound:
So fhould defert in arms be crown'd.
The lovely Thäis by his fide
Sat, like a blooming eaftern bride,
In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride.
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
None but the brave deferves the fair.
Timotheus, plac'd on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The fong began from Jove,
Who left his blissful feats above,
When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,
And ftamp'd an image of himself, a fov'reign of the worldThe lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found:
A prefent deity they fhout around,
A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:
The monarch hears,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.
The praife of Bacchus then the sweet musician fung,
The jolly god in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
He fhows his honeft face.
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes! he comes!
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did firft ordain:
Bacchus' bleffings are a treasure,
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure ;
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain: Fought all his battles o'er again:
And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the flain.
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
Soft pity to infufe:
He fung Darius great and good,
Fallin, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
The various turns of fate below;
The mighty mafter fail'd to fee
Never ending, ftill beginning,.