Dryden.

Seine, gleichfalls für den Cäcilientag bestimmte, mufikalische Ode, Alexander's Feast, ist eins der herrlichsten Meis kerstücke der neuern Vocsie; reich an zaubervoller Mannichfaltigkeit der Bilder und Beschreibungen, an Schönheit und Wohlklang des Ausdrucks, und am wirkungsvollsten Wechfel der Empfindung. Echon im J. 1687 schrieb er auf eben diese Veranlassung eine kürzere Ode auf die Harmonie, die gleichfalls sehr schöne Stellen hat. Gar sehr aber übertraf er sich selbst, und alle seine Vorgänger und Nachfolger, in gegenwärtiger Ode, die Pope in feinem Effay on Criticism sehr treffend charakterisirt:

Hear, how Timotheus' vary'd lays surprise,
And bid alternate paffions fall and rise!
While at each change the fon of Libyan Jove

Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
Now fighs fteal out, and tears begin to flow.
Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound.
The pow'r of mufic all our hearts allow,

And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
Uebrigens weiß man, daß Håndel, im J. 1735, dieß Mei-
fterstück in eben so meisterhafte Musik sezte; und daß wir es
Hrn. Ramler zu verdanken haben, der einen deutschen Text,
mit Grundlage der Weißischen Ueberseßung, zu dieser Kont-
position einrichtete, daß diese lettre - auch in Deutschland
bekannter geworden, und mehrmals vou Kennern bewundert
ift.

ALEXANDER'S FEAST.

Dryden. 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 Eaftern bride,
In flow'r 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.

Timotheus, plac'd on high

Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;

The trembling notes afcend the sky,

And heav'nly joys infpire.

The fong began from Jove,

Who left his blifsful feats above,

(Such is the pow'r of mighty love)

A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god;
Sublime on radiant fpires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia preft,

And while he fought her fnowy breaft;

Then round her flender waift he curl'd,

And ftamp'd an image of himself a fov'reign of the

world.

The lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found;

A prefent Deity threy fhoot around;

A prefent Deity! the vaulted roofs rebound.

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 madness rife,

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes,
And while he heav'n and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chofe a mournful Mufe,

Soft pity to infuse:

He fung Darius, great and good!
By too levere a fate

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deferted at his utmost need
By thofe, his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcaft looks the joyless victor fate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of chance below;
And now and then a figh he ftole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty master fmil'd to fee
That love was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred found to move,

For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly

Dryden.

Softly fweet, in Lydian meafures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures,
War, he fung, is toil and trouble,
Honour but an empty bubble;
Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting still, and ftill deftroying:
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, o think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais fits befide thee;

Take the good the gods provide thee.

The many rend the fkies with loud applaufe:
So Love was crown'd, but Mufic won the cause.
The Prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again.

At length, with love and wine at once oppreft,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd, „Sigh'd and look'd and figh'd again,

"At length, with love and wine at once oppreft „The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast."

VI,

Now ftrike the golden lyre again:

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.

Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark, the horrid found

Has rais'd up his head,

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he ftares around. ov sille kom