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Shall burst its bag; and, fighting out their way,
The various venoms on each other prey.
The Presbyter puff d up with spirit'al pride,
Shall on the necks of the lew'd nobles ride.
His breth'ren damn, the Civil pow'r defy, 300
And parcel out republic prelacy:
But short shall be his reign; his rigid yoke
And tyrant pow'r will puny sects provoke:
And frogs and toads, and all the tadpole train,
Willcroak to Heav'n for help from this devouring crane.
The cut-throat Sword and clam'rous Gown shall jar,
In sharing their ill-gotten spoils of war:
Chiefs shall be grudg'd the part which they pretend;
Lords envy lords, and friends with ev'ry friend
About their impious merit shall contend. 310
The surly Commons shall respect deny, i
And justle peerage out with property,
Their Gen’ral either shall his trust betray,
And force the crowd to arbitrary sway;
Or they, suspecting his ambitious aim,
In hate of kings, shall cast anew the frame,
And thrust out Collatine that bore their name.
Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exil'd heirs, or foreign rage,
Till halting Vengeance overtook our age:
And our wild labours, wearied into rest,
Reclind us on a rightful monarch's breast.
---Pudet haec opprobia vobis
It dici potuisse, et non potuigse refelfi.
OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.
IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won
By Philip's warlike son:
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne :
His valiant peers were plac'd around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound,
(So should desert in arms be crown'd)
The lovely Thais by his side
Sate 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 deserves the fair,
“ Happy, happy, happy pair!
“ None but the brave,
“ None but the brave,
.-None but the brave deserves the fair."
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 spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press'd;
And while he sought her snowy breast;
Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of the
The lise’ning crowd admire the lofty sound; [world.
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.
" 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 sing
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 shews his honest face.
Now give the hauiboys 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."
« Bacchus' blessings are a treasuse;
“ Drinking is the soldier's pleasure :
" Rich the ireasure,
“ Sweet the pleasure ;
“ Sweet is pleasure after pain.”
Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;
Fought all his batiles o’er again ;
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew
The masser saw the madness rise ;
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 chose a mournful muse,
Soft pity to infuse:
He sung Darius, great and good;
By too severe a fate,
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deserted at his utmost need
By those his forn'er bounty fed;
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.
With down-cast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.
" Revolving in his alter'd soul
“ The various turns of chance below;
“ And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
“ And tears began to flow."
The mighty master smild 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;