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النشر الإلكتروني

ALEXANDER'S FEAST.

BY DRYDEN.

"TWAS

WAS at the royal feast, for Persia won,

By Philip's warlike son:

Aloft in awful state

The god-like hero sate

On his imperial throne:

His valiant peers were plac'd around; Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound: So should desert in arms be crown'd.

The lovely Thaïs by his side

Sat, like a blooming eastern 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 deserve the fair.

Timotheus plac'd on high

Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heav'nly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove;

Who left his blissful seats above,

Such is the pow'r of mighty love!

A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god:
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia press'd,

And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.

The list'ning crowd admire the lofty sound;

A present deity, they shout around:

A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:
With ravish'd ears

The monarch hears,

Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung;
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 shows his honest face.

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!

Bacchus ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain:
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;
Fought all his battles o'er again:

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.

The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heaven and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful muse

Soft pity to infuse:

He

sung Darius great and good,

By too severe a fate,

Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,

Fall'n from his high estate,

And welt'ring in his blood:
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcast look the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of fate below;
And now and then a sigh he stole;

And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smil'd, to see
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred sound to move;
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying:
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O, think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thaïs sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.-
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So love was crown'd, but music won the cause.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:

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

Now strike the golden lyre again;

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep asunder,

And ronse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.

Hark, bark! the horrid sound
Has rais'd up his head;

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he stares around.
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.

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

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 glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods!

The Princes applaud, with a furious joy;

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.

Thus, long ago

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;

Timotheus to the breathing flute

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