Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again: 120 At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. VI. Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has rais'd up his head: 125 As awak'd from the dead, And amaz❜d, he stares around. 130 Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise: See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! 135 Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain: Give the vengeance due To the gallant crew. Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes, 140 145 And glittering temples of their hostile gods. Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. 150 CHORUS. And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. VII. Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, While organs yet were mute; Timotheus, to his breathing flute, And sounding lyre, 155 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. Inventress of the vocal frame; And added length to solemn sounds, 165 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. GRAND CHORUS. At last divine Cecilia came, 170 The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, 175 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. 180 VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED. CREATOR Spirit, by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid, Come visit every pious mind; Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Rich in thy sevenfold energy! Thou strength of his Almighty hand, 10 15 Whose power does heaven and earth command. Proceeding Spirit, our defence, Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, Refine and purge our earthly parts; But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts! And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; Make us eternal truths receive, Eternal Paraclete, to thee. 20 25 30 35 35 V. 39. Eternal Paraclete] This is a most elegant and beautiful little morsel, and one of his most correct compositions. Its poetry and piety aid each other. Dr. J. W. THE SECULAR MASQUE. Enter JANUS. JANUS. CHRONOS, Chronos, mend thy pace, Behold, behold, the goal in sight, Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. 5 Enter CHRONOS, with a scythe in his hand, and a globe on his back, which he sets down at his entrance. CHRONOS. Weary, weary of my weight, Let me, let me drop my freight, I could not bear, Another year, The load of humankind. Enter MOMUS laughing. MOMUS. Ha ha ha! ha! ha! ha! well hast thou done To lay down thy pack, And lighten thy back, The world was a fool, e'er since it begun, And since neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I 15 |