Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

For several ends to serve the same design;

The best, (and of the princes some were such,)

Who thought the power of monarchy too much;

Mistaken men and patriots in their hearts,

Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts; By these the springs of property were bent

And wound so high they cracked the

government.

The next for interest sought to embroil the state

To sell their duty at a dearer rate, And make their Jewish markets of the throne,

Pretending public good to serve their

own.

Others thought kings an useless heavy load,

Who cost too much and did too little good.

These were for laying honest David by On principles of pure good husbandry. With them joined all the haranguers of the throng

That thought to get preferment by the tongue.

Who follow next a double danger bring, Not only hating David, but the King; The Solymaean rout, well versed of old In godly faction and in treason bold, Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword,

But lofty to a lawful prince restored, Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun And scorned by Jebusites to be outdone. Hot Levites headed these; who, pulled before

From the ark which in the Judges' days

they bore,

Resumed their cant, and with a zealous cry

Pursued their old beloved theocracy, Where Sanhedrin and priest enslaved the

nation,

And justified their spoils by inspiration;

For who so fit for reign as Aaron's

race,

If once dominion they could found in grace?

These led the pack; though not of surest scent,

Yet deepest mouthed against the govern

ment.

A numerous host of dreaming saints succeed

Of the true old enthusiastic breed: 'Gainst form and order they their power

employ,

Nothing to build and all things to destroy.

But far more numerous was the herd of such

Who think too little and who talk too much.

These out of mere instinct, they knew not why,

Adored their fathers' God and property,

And by the same blind benefit of Fate The Devil and the Jebusite did hate: Born to be saved even in their own despite,

Because they could not help believing right.

Such were the tools; but a whole Hydra

more

Remains of sprouting heads too long to

score.

Some of their chiefs were princes of the

land;

In the first rank of these did Zimri stand,
A man so various that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome:
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
Was everything by starts and nothing
long;

But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;

Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,

Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.

Blest madman, who could every hour employ

With something new to wish or to enjoy!

Railing and praising were his usual themes,

And both, to show his judgment, in ex

tremes:

So over violent or over civil

That every man with him was God or Devil.

In squandering wealth was his peculiar

art;

Nothing went unrewarded but desert. Beggared by fools whom still he found

too late,

He had his jest, and they had his estate. He laughed himself from Court; then sought relief

By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief:

For spite of him, the weight of business fell

On Absalom and wise Achitophel;

Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft, He left not faction, but of that was left.

A Song for St. Cecilia's Day

FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began:
When Nature underneath a heap
Of jarring atoms lay
And could not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
"Arise, ye more than dead!"

Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their stations leap,

And Music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony. This universal frame began:

From harmony to harmony Thro' all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man.

What passion cannot Music raise and quell!

When Jubal struck the chorded shell His listening brethren stood around, And, wondering, on their faces fell

To worship that celestial sound. Less than a god they thought there could not dwell

Within the hollow of that shell

That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell!

The trumpet's loud clangor
Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger

And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thundering drum
Cries: "Hark! the foes come;
Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!"

The soft complaining flute.

In dying notes discovers

The woes of hopeless lovers, Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.

Sharp violins proclaim

Their jealous pangs and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion
For the fair disdainful dame.

But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach

The sacred organ's praise?
Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.

Orpheus could lead the savage race,
And trees unrooted left their place
Sequacious of the lyre:

But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:

When to her Organ vocal breath was given

An Angel heard, and straight appear'dMistaking earth for heaven.

GRAND CHORUS

As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move,

And sung the great Creator's praise

To all the blest above;

So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.

Alexander's Feast; or, The Power of Music

I

'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 placed 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 flower 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.

CHORUS

Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

II

Timotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above,
(Such is the power of mighty love)

A dragon's fiery form belied 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 sovereign of the world.

The listening crowd admire the lofty. sound,

"A present deity," they shout around; "A present deity," the vaulted roofs rebound:

With ravished ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres. CHORUS: With ravished ears, etc.

III

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.

CHORUS: Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, etc.

IV

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 defied,
Changed 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 weltering in his blood;
Deserted at his utmost need

By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth exposed he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,

Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of chance be-
low:

And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

CHORUS: Revolving in his alter'd soul,

etc.

V

The mighty master smiled 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 soothed 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 Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee."

[ocr errors]

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,

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.

CHORUS: The prince, unable to conceal his pain, etc.

VI

Now strike the golden lyre again;
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of
thunder.

Hark, hark, the horrid sound

Has raised up his head;

As awaked from the dead,
And, amazed, 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!

Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

And unburied 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 glittering temples of their hostile.

gods."

The princes applaud with a furious joy; And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy;

[blocks in formation]

BUT never was a fight managed so hardily, and in such a surprising manner, as that which followed between Friday and the bear, which gave us all, though at first we were surprised and afraid for him, the greatest diversion imaginable. As the bear is a heavy, clumsy creature, and does not gallop as the wolf does, who is swift and light, so he has two particular qualities, which generally are the rule of his actions: first, as to men, who are not his proper prey; I say, not his proper prey, because, though I cannot say what excessive hunger might do, which was now their case, the ground being all covered with snow; but as to men, he does not usually attempt them, unless they first attack him. On the contrary, if you meet him in the woods, if you don't meddle with him, he won't meddle with you; but then you must take care to be very civil to him, and give him the road, for he is a very nice gentleman. He won't go a step out of his way for a prince; nay, if you are really afraid, your best way is to look another way, and keep going on, for sometimes if you stop;

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »