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Such is the power of mighty love!
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.
-The listening crowd admire the lofty sound;
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound :
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god;
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!
He shows his honest face:
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes !
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Soothed 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;
Soft pity to infuse :
He sung Darius great and good,
-With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
The various turns of Chance below;
The mighty master smiled to see
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,
Gazed on the fair
Who caused his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
At length with love and wine at once opprest
Now strike the golden lyre again :
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain !
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark! the horrid sound
Has raised up his head :
And amazed he stares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
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!
Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
-The princes applaud with a furious joy :
And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to
Thais led the way
To light him to his prey,
And like another Helen, fired another Troy!
-Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
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 raised a mortal to the skies;
The Golden Treasury
ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Smiles on past misfortune's brow
Soft reflection's hand can trace,
While hope prolongs our happier hour,
See a kindred grief pursue;
Approaching comfort view:
On the thorny bed of pain,
And breathe and walk again :
ODE TO SIMPLICITY
O Thou, by Nature taught
In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong;
Who first, on mountains wild,
In Fancy, loveliest child,
Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song!
Thou, who with hermit heart,
Disdain'st the wealth of art,
And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall,
But com'st, a decent maid
O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call!