Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! For which he paid full dear; Whereat his horse did snort, as he Went Gilpin's hat and wig: He lost them sooner than at first; Now Mrs. Gilpin, when she saw She pulled out half-a-crown; And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell: This shall be yours, when you bring back The youth did ride, and soon did meet But, not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road With post-boy scampering in the rear, Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The tollmen thinking as before, That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he; And when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see! ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC. 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won Aloft in awful state 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, None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. 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, When he to fair Olympia pressed: 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! The vaulted roofs rebound. Affects to nod, 59 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; He chose a mournful muse He sung Darius, great and good; By too severe a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, And welt'ring in his blood; With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, The various turns of chance below; The mighty master smiled, to see Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Never ending, still beginning, If the world be worth thy winning, Take the good the gods provide thee. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Who caused his care, And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. Now strike the golden lyre again: And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark! the horrid sound Has raised up his head: And amazed, he stares around. 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! The tuneful voice was heard from high, Then cold, and hot, and moist and dry, From harmony, from heavenly harmony, What passion cannot music raise and quell! Less than a god they thought there could not dwel That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot music raise and quell! The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms, 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, 'Tis he of Gazna1-fierce in wrath Of Downward the Peri turns her gaze, And through the war-field's bloody haze Beholds a youthful warrior stand, Alone, beside his native river,The red blade broken in his hand And the last arrow in his quiver. ⚫ive," said the conqueror, “live to share The trophies and the crowns I bear!" Silent that youthful warrior stood— All crimson with his country's blood, False flew the shaft, though pointed well; And when the rush of war was past, Of morning light, she caught the last— Last glorious drop his heart had shed, Before its free-born spirit fled! "Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight, It would not stain the purest rill, That sparkles among the bowers of bliss! From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!" "Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave Who die thus for their native land. But see-alas!-the crystal bar 1 Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the eleventh century. "It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mah. mound was so magnificent, that he kept 400 greyhounds and bloodhounds each of which wore a collar set with jewels. Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, Now among Afric's Lunar Mountains, Far to the south, the Peri lighted; And sleek'd her plumage at the fountains Of that Egyptian tide, whose birth Is hidden from the sons of earth, Deep in those solitary woods, Where oft the Genii of the Floods Dance round the cradle of their Nile, And hail the new-born Giant's smile! Thence, over Egypt's palmy groves, Her grots, and sepulchres of kings, The exiled Spirit sighing roves; And now hangs listening to the doves In warm Rosetta's vale !2--now loves To watch the moonlight on the wings Of the white pelicans that break The azure calm of Moris' Lake.3 'Twas a fair scene-a land more bright Never did mortal eye behold! Who could have thought, that saw this night Bathing their beauties in the lake, Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem The relics of a splendid dream; Amid whose fairy loneliness Naught but the lapwing's cry is heard, Naught seen but (when the shadows, flitting Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam) Some purple-wing'd sultana sitting Upon a column, motionless And glittering, like an idol bird!— Who could have thought, that there, e'en there, Of human shape, touch'd by his wing, 1"The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunæ of antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to rise." "The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves." "Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Maris. • A rare and beautiful bird. |