Shall free-born men, in humble awe, Submit to fervile fhame; Who from confent and custom draw The duke shall wield his conq'ring fword, And then, come kifs my breech. So have I feen a king on chess His (His rooks and knights withdrawn, queen and bishops in diftrefs). Shifting about, grow lefs and lefs, With here and there a pawn. A SON G FOR St. CECILIA's Day, 1687. FRO I. ROM harmony, from heav'nly harmony When nature underneath a heap And cou'd not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Then cold, and hot, and moift, and dry, From harmony, from heav'nly harmony This univerfal frame began: From harmony to harmony Thro all the compass of the notes it ran, II. What paffion cannot Mufic raise and quell! Less than a God they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly and fo well. What paffion cannot Music raise and quell? 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 foft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, Whofe dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. V. Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs, and defperation, Depth of pains, and height of paffion, VI. But oh! what art can teach, What human voice can reach, The facred organ's praise ? Notes infpiring holy love, Notes that wing their heav'nly ways To mend the choirs above. VII. Orpheus cou'd lead the favage race; But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher : As from the pow'r of facred lays 4 And fung the great Creator's praife So when the last and dreadful bour Na bank, befide a willow, Heav'n her cov'ring, earth her pillow, Sad Amynta figh'd alone: From the chearless dawn of morning "Till the dews of night returning, Singing thus the made her moan : |