XII.

SONG,

FROM MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE *.

WH

I.

HY fhould a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,

Oblige us to each other now,

When paffion is decay'd?

We lov'd, and we lov'd, as long as we could,
Till our love was lov'd out of us both;

But our marriage is dead, when the pleasures are fled; 'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

II.

If I have pleasures for a friend,

And farther love in store,

What wrong has he, whose joys did end,

And who could give no more?

'Tis a madness that he

Should be jealous of me,

Or that I fhould bar him of another:
For all we can gain

Is to give ourselves pain,

When neither can hinder the other.

*There are feveral excellent fongs in his "King Arthur:" which should have been copied, but that they are so interwoven with the ftory of the drama that it would be improper to feparate them. There is also a fong in "Love in a Nunnery;” and another in "The Duke of Guife;" but neither of them worth tranfcribing.

N.

SONG,

AH, how fweet it is to love!

Α

LOVE..

Ah, how gay is young defire!
And what pleafing pains we prove
When we first approach love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.
Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:

E'en the tears they shed alone

Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.

Love and Time with reverence ufe,
Treat them like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth fincere they fend:
For each year their price is more,
And they lefs fimple than before.
Love, like fpring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein:
But each tide does lefs fupply,
Till they quite shrink-in again:

If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

XIV.

ALEXANDER'S

FEAST:

OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.

AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

I.

WAS at the royal feast, for Perfia won

"TWAS

By Philip's warlike son:

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 myrtles bound. (So fhould defert in arms be crown'’d:)

The lovely Thais, by his fide,

Sate 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 deferves the fair..

CHORU S.

Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deferves the fair.

II.

Timotheus, plac'd on high

Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre: The trembling notes afcend the sky,

And heavenly joys infpire.

The

The fong began from Jove,

Who left his blifsful feats above,
(Such is the power of mighty love.)
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god:
Sublime on radiant fpires he rode,

When he to fair Olympia prefs'd:

And while he fought her fnowy breast:

Then, round her slender waist he curl'd,

And ftamp'd an image of himself, a fovereign of the world.

The liftening crowd admire the lofty found,
A prefent deity, they fhout around:

A prefent deity the vaulted roofs rebound:

With ravifh'd ears

The monarch hears,
Affumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And feems to shake the fpheres.

CHORUS.

With ravish'd ears

The monarch bears,

Affumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And feems to shake the Spheres.

III.

The praife of Bacchus then, the fweet musician fung;

Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:

The jolly god in triumph comes;

Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
Flush'd with a purple grace

He fhews 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,
Drinking is the foldier's pleafure:
Rich the treafure,

Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

CHORU S.

Bacchus bleffings are a treasure,
Drinking is the foldier's pleasure;
Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

IV.

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..

The mafter faw the madnefs rife;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ;.
And while he heaven and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride..
He chofe a mournful Mufe
Soft pity to infufe:

He fung Darius great and good,

By too fevere a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high estate,

And weltring in his blood;

Deferted,