Not fierce Othello in fo loud a ftrain

Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain.
But fee how oft ambitious aims are cross'd,
And chiefs contend till all the prize is loft!

The lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain,
In ev'ry place is fought, but fought in vain:
With fuch a prize no mortal must be bleft,
So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can conteft?
Some thought it mounted to the lunar fphere,
* Since all things loft on earth are treafur'd there.
There hero's wits are kept in pondrous vafes,
And beaus in fnuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes.

There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found,
And lover's hearts with ends of riband bound;
The courtier's promifes, and fick man's pray'rs,
The fmiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs,
Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea;
Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of cafuistry.

But truft the mufefhe faw it upward rife,
Tho' mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes:
(So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew,
To Proculus alone confefs'd in view.)

* Vid, Ariofto. Canto 34

A fudden

A fudden ftar, it fhot thro' liquid air,
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
Not Berenice's locks first rofe fo bright,
The heav'ns befpangling with dishevel'd light,
The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the skies.
This the Beau-monde fhall from the mall furvey
And hail with mufic its propitious ray:
This, the bleft lover shall for Venus take,
And fend up vows from Rofamonda's lake:
This Partridge foon fhall view in cloudlefs fkies,
When next he looks thro' Galileo's eyes;
And hence th' egregious wizard fhall foredoom
The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.

[hair,

Then ceafe, bright nymph! to mourn the ravifa'd
Which adds new glory to the fhining sphere!
Not all the treffes that fair head can boaft,

Shall draw fuch envy as the lock you loft.
For, after all the murders of your eye,
When, after millions flain, your felf shall die;
When those fair funs fhall fet, as fet they must,
And all thofe treffes fhall be laid in duft ;

This lock, the mufe fhall confecrate to fame,
And 'midst the ftars infcribe Belinda's name!

ODE

D

I.

Efcend ye nine! defcend and fing;
The breathing inftruments infpire,
Wake into voice each filent ftring,

And sweep the founding lyre!
In a fadly pleafing strain

Let the warbling lute complain:

Let

Let the loud trumpet found,

Till the roofs all around

The fhrill-echos rebound:

While in more lengthen'd notes and flow, The deep, majeftic, folemn organs blow. Hark! the numbers, foft and clear,

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rife,

And fill with fpreading founds the skies;
Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling the wild mufic floats;
Till, by degrees, remote and Imall,
The ftrains decay,-

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.DIS

·II.

By mufick, minds an equal temper know;

Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low.
If in the breaft tumultuous joys arife,
Mufic her foft, affuafive voice applies;

Or when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.

Warriors the fires with animated founds;

Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;

Melan

Melancholy lifts her head;
Morpheus rowzes from his bed;

Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,

Lift'ning envy drops her fnakes; Inteftine war no more our paffions wage, Ev'n giddy factions hear away their rage.

II.

But when our country's caufe provokes to arms,
How martial mufic ev'ry bosom warms!

So when the firft bold veffel dar'd the feas,
High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his ftrain,
While Argo faw her kindred trees

Defcend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods flood round;
And men grew heroes at the found,
Enflam'd with glory's charms:
Each chief his fev'nfold fhield difplay'd,
And half unfheath'd the fhining blade;
And feas, and rocks, and skies rebound.
To arms, to arms, to arms!
IV.

But when thro' all th' infernal bounds
Which flaming Phlegethon furrounds,

Sad