Such is the power of mighty love! And while he sought her snowy breast, And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. -The listening crowd admire the lofty sound; A present deity! they shout around: A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound : 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; 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. 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 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 : As awaked from the dead 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 And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods. -The princes applaud with a furious joy: And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; 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 And sounding lyre Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire At last divine Cecilia came, 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; She drew an angel down! J. Dryden The Golden Treasury Book Third CLII ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE Now the golden Morn aloft Waves her dew-bespangled wing, New-born flocks, in rustic dance, The birds his presence greet: Yesterday the sullen year Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; Smiles on past misfortune's brow While hope prolongs our happier hour, Still, where rosy pleasure leads, The hues of bliss more brightly glow See the wretch that long has tost T. Gray CLIII ODE TO SIMPLICITY O Thou, by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; 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, In Attic robe array'd, O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call! |