Just so, my heart-But see-Ah no! She smiles-I will not, cannot go. AIR. Love and the Graces smiling, In Myra's eyes beguiling, Again their charms recover. Would you secure your duty, Let kindness aid your beauty, Ye fair, to sooth the lover. ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC: AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY, BY MR. DRYDEN. ALTERED FOR MUSIC BY MR. HUGHES. RECITATIVE. Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were plac'd around; Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound. AIR. Lovely Thais by his side Blooming sat in beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair! RECITATIVE. Timotheus plac'd on high, And heavenly joys inspire. And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd adore the lofty sound, A present deity, the echoing roofs rebound; With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, The various turns of chance below; AIR. WITH FLUTES. RECITATIVE. The prince unable to conceal his pain, Who caus'd his care, And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, At length, with Love and Wine at once oppress'd, DUETTO. 1. Phœbus, patron of the lyre, 2. Cupid, god of soft desire, 1. Cupid, god of soft desire, 2. Phoebus, patron of the lyre, 1. and 2. How victorious are your charms! 1. Crown'd with conquest, 2. Full of glory, 1. and 2. See a monarch fall'n before ye, Now strike the golden lyre again; Has rais'd up his head, AIR. WITH SYMPHONIES. See the snakes that they rear, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! RECITATIVE. Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! And thy bright eye is brighter far CONSTANTIA, see, thy faithful slave Thy pity to my love inpart, THRICE lov'd Constantia, heavenly fair, For thee a servant's form I wear; Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, Though blest with wealth, and nobly born, And unbury'd 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 .emples of their hostile gods! For thee, both wealth and birth I scorn: TRANSLATED FROM PERSIAN VERSES. ALLUDING TO THE CUSTOM OF WOMEN BEING BURIED WITH THEIR HUSBANDS, AND MEN WITH THEIR WIVES. ETERNAL are the chains which here The generous souls of lovers bind, When Hymen joins our hands, we swear To be for ever true and kind; And when, by Death, the fair are snatch'd away, In the same grave our living corpse we lay, ANOTHER. My dearest spouse, that thou and I May shun the fear which first shall die, Clasp'd in each other's arms we'll live, Alike consum'd in Love's soft fire, That neither may at last survive, But gentle both at once expire. SONGS. THY origin's divine, I see, Of mortal race thou canst not be; Thy purple cheek outshines the rose, ON ARQUEÄNASSA OF COLOPHOS. ARQUEANASSA's charms inspire But before old Time pursued her, ON FULVIA, THE WIFE OF ANTHONY. FROM THE LATIN OF AUGUSTUS CESAR. WHILE from his consort false Antonius flies, HUDIBRAS IMITATED. O BLESSED time of reformation, That's now beginning through the nation! They stretch their throats with hideous shout. And some, for" brooms, old boots, and shoes," THAT the praises of the Author of Nature, which is the fittest subject for the sublime way of writing, was the most ancient use of poetry, cannot be learned from a more proper instance (next to examples of holy writ) than from the Greek fragments of Orpheus; a relique of great antiquity: they contain several verses concerning God, and his making and governing the universe; which, though imperfect, have many noble hints and lofty expressions. Yet, whether these verses were indeed written by that celebrated father of poetry and music, who preceded Homer, or by Onomacritus, who lived about the time of Pisistratus, and only contain some of the doctrines of Orpheus, is a question of little use or importance. A large paraphrase of these in French verse has been prefixed to the translation of Phocylides, but in a flat style, much inferior to the design. The following ode, with many alterations and additions proper to a modern poem, is attempted upon the same model, in a language which, having stronger sinews than the French, is, by the confession of their best critic, Rapin, more capable of sustaining great subjects. AN ODE TO THE CREATOR OF THE WORLD. Begin, and strike aloud the consecrated lyre! Hence, all ye impious slaves, that bow And to false heroes give fantastic praise! And hence, ye gods, who to a crime your spurious beings owe! But hear, O Heaven, and Earth, and Seas profound! Hear, ye fathom'd Deeps below, And let your echoing vaults repeat the sound; From whom Heaven, Earth, and Seas, and all the wide Creation came. He spoke the great command; and Light, Heaven's eldest-born and fairest child, Flash'd in the lowering face of ancient Night, And, pleas'd with its own birth, screnely smil'd. The sons of Morning, on the wing, Hovering in choirs, his praises sung, When, from the unbounded vacuous space, A beauteous rising World they saw, When Nature show'd her yet unfinish'd face, And Motion took th' establish'd law To roll the various globes on high; When Time was taught his infant wings to try, And from the barrier sprung to his appointed race. Supreme, Almighty, still the same! 'Tis he, the great inspiring Mind, That animates and moves this universal frame, Present at once in all, and by no place confin'd. Not Heaven itself can bound his sway; Beyond th' untravell'd limits of the sky, Invisible to mortal eye, He dwells in uncreated day. Without beginning, without end; 'tis he That fills th' unmeasur'd growing orb of vast immensity. What power but his can rule the changeful Main, And wake the sleeping Storm, or its loud rage restrain? When Winds their gather'd forces try, And the chaf'd Occan proudly swells in vain, His voice reclaims th' impetuous roar; In murmuring tides th' abated billows fly, Yet, pleas'd to bless, indulgent to supply, Supports the numerous family That peoples earth, and sea, and air. From Nature's giant race, th' enormous elephant, Down to the insect worm and creeping ant; From th' eagle, sovereign of the sky, To each inferior feather'd brood; His hand unseen, divides to all their food, At one wide view his eye surveys His works, in every distant clime; He shifts the seasons, months, and days, The short-liv'd offspring of revolving Time; By turns they die, by turns are born. Now cheerful Spring the circle leads, And strows with flowers the smiling meads; Gay Summer next, whom russet robes adorn, And waving fields of yellow corn; Then Autumn, who with lavish stores the lap of Decrepit Winter, laggard in the dance, But who, thou great Ador'd! who can withstand When, long provok'd, thy wrath awakes, The shock of Earth and Seas, and labour of the Then where's Ambition's haughty crest? The shatter'd Earth, the rushing Sea, O Cyrus! Alexander! Julius! all Or in huge amphitheatres endure Procced, my Muse! Time's wasting thread pursue, See in his hand the book of Fate! T'attend, with dread solemnity, The World's last scene, and Time's concluding date. The feeble race of short-liv'd Vanity, And sickly Pomp, at once shall die! Foul Guilt to midnight caves will shrink away, How will you then, ye impious, 'scape your doom, Self-judg'd, abandon'd, overcome? Your clouds of painted bliss shall melt before your sight. Yet shall you not the giddy chase refrain, Nor hope more solid bliss t' obtain, Tost in an ocean of desire, yet never find a shore. But see where the mild Sovereign sits prepar'd His better subjects to reward! Where am I now! what power divine Transports me! what immortal splendours shine' Torrents of glory that oppress the sight! What joys, celestial King! thy throne surround! The Sun, who, with thy borrow'd beams so bright, Sees not his peer in all the starry round, Would here, diminish'd, fade away, Like his pale sister of the night, When she resigns her delegated light, Lost in the blaze of day. Here wonder only can take place;— Then, Muse, th' adventurous flight forbear! These mystic scenes thou canst no farther trace; Hope may some boundless future bliss embrace, But what, or when, or how, or where, Are mazes all, which Fancy runs in vain; Nor can the narrow cells of human brain The vast immeasurable thought contain. TO MR. ADDISON, ON HIS TRAGEDY OF CATO. THOUGH Cato shines in Virgil's epic song, On Tyber's bank thy thought was first inspir'd; "Tis done the hero lives and charms our age! While nobler morals grace the British stage. Great Shakespeare's ghost, the solemn strain to hear, (Methinks I see the laurel'd shade appear!) ADVICE TO MR. POPE, ON HIS INTENDED TRANSLATION OF HOMER'S ILIAD, 1714. O THOU, who with a happy genius born, His pension paid-though late, and paid to thee. ΤΟ THE MEMORY OF MILTON. HOMER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF, UNDER THE CHA→ RACTER OF DEMODOCHUS THE MUSICIAN, AT THE FEAST OF KING ALCINOUS. FROM THE EIGHTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEYS. THE Muse with transport lov'd him; yet, to fill TO A LADY, WITH THE TRAGEDY OF CATO. Two shining maids this happy work displays; In her that animates these lines, we view Had she been born ally'd to Cato's name, Numidia's prince had felt a real flame; And pouring his resistless troops from far, With bolder deeds had turn'd the doubtful war; Cæsar had fled before his conquering arms, And Roman Muses sung her beauty's charms. A FRAGMENT. PROMISCUOUS Crowds to worthless riches born, |