Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound;
So should desert in arms be crown'd.

The lovely Thais by his side,
Sat like a blooming eastern bride,

In flower of youth and beauty's pride.

Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave, deserve the fair.

Timotheus plac'd on high,
Amid the tuneful choir,
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 spheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia press'd,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.
The list'ning 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 trumpet; beat the drums;

Flush'd with a purple grace,

He shows his honest face:

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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.

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Sooth'd 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,

Chang'd his hand and check'd his pride.

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He chose a mournful muse,

Soft pity to infuse :

He sung Darius, great and good,
By too severe a fate,

Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fall'n, 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 the joyless victor sat,

Revolving, in his alter'd soul,

The various turns of fate below;
And now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.
The mighty-master smil'd 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 sooth'd his soul te pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honor 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,

Gaz'd on the fair,

Who caus'd 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 oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor-sunk upon her breast.

Now strike the golden lyre again;
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain :
Break his band of sleep asunder,
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark! hark! the horrid sound
Has rais'd up his head,
As awak'a from the dead
And amaz'd, he stares around.
Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries-
See the furies arise!

These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain.

And, buried, 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 seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy:

This led the way,

To light him to his prey;

And, like another Helen-fir'd 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 soft desire.

At last divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame.

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,
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 rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

PART II.

Lessons in Speaking.

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SECTION I.

ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.

I.-On Truth and Integrity. - TILLOTSON.

RUTH and integrity have all the advantages of appearance, and many more. If the show of any thing be good for any thing, I am sure the reality is better; for why does any man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is not, but because he thinks it good to have the qualities he pretends to? For, to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the appearance of some real excellency. Now, the best way for a man to seem to be any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be. Besides, it is often as troublesome to support the pretence of a good quality, as to have it; and if a man have it not, it is most likely he will be discovered to want it; and then all his labor to seem to have it, is lost. There is something unnatural in painting, which a skilful eye will easily discern from native beauty and complexion.

It is hard to personate and act a part long; for where truth is not at the bottom, nature will always be endeavouring to return, and will betray herself at one time or other. Therefore, if any man think it convenient to seem good, let him be so indeed; and then his goodness will appear to every one's satisfaction; for truth is convincing, and carries its own light and evidence along with it; and will not only commend us to every man's conscience, but, which is much more, to God, who searcheth our hearts: so that, upon all accounts, sincerity

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is true wisdom.
Particularly as to the affairs of this
world, integrity hath many advantages over all the arti-
ficial modes of dissimulation and deceit. It is much the
plainer and easier, much the safer and more secure way
of dealing in the world; it hath less of trouble and diffi-
culty, of entanglement and perplexity, of danger and
hazard in it; it is the shortest and nearest way to our
end, carrying us thither in a straight line; and will hold
out and last longest. The arts of deceit and cunning
continually grow weaker, and less effectual and service-
able to those that practise them; whereas integrity gains
strength by use; and the more and longer any man prac-
tiseth it the greater service it does him, by confirming
his reputation, and encouraging those with whom he
hath to do to repose the greatest confidence in him;
which is an unspeakable advantage in business and the
affairs of life.

A dissembler must be always upon his guard, and watch himself carefully, that he do not contradict his own pretensions: for he acts an unnatural part, and therefore must put a continual force and restraint upon himself; whereas, he that acts sincerely, hath the easiest task in the world; because he follows nature, and so is put to no trouble and care about his words and actions; he needs not invent any pretence beforehand, nor make excuses afterwards, for any thing he hath said or done.

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But insincerity is very troublesome to manage. hypocrite hath so many things to attend to, as make his life a very perplexed and intricate thing. A liar hath need of a good memory, lest he contradict at one time, what he said at another. But truth is always consistent with itself, and needs nothing to help it out; it is always near at hand, and sits upon our lips, and is ready to drop out before we are aware; whereas a lie is troublesome, and one trick needs a great many more to make it good.

Add to all this, that sincerity fis the most compendious wisdom, and an excellent instrument for the speedy dispatch of business. It creates confidence in those we have to deal with, saves the labor of many inquiries, and brings things to an issue in a few words. It is like travelling in a plain beaten road, which commonly brings

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