II.

Timotheus, placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touched 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 pressed:
And while he sought her snowy breast,

Then round her slender waist he curled,

And stamped 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.

44

48

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;
Flushed 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.

Soothed with the sound the king grew vain,

Fought all his battles o'er again;

60 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 checked 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 altered soul

The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

Chorus.

Revolving in his altered 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;

108

112

116

120

124

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.'
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,
Sighed and looked, and sighed again;

At length, with love and wine at once oppressed,
The vanquished 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,

128 And glittering temples of their hostile gods.'

182

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.

136

Chorus.

And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; etc.

VII.

Thus long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learned to blow,

While organs yet were mute,

Timotheus, to his breathing flute
And sounding lyre,

140 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last divine Cecilia came,

144

148

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.

Grand Chorus.

At last devine Cecilia came etc.

THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON.
IMITATED FROM CHAUCER, AND ENLARGED.
[From Fables (1700)]

A Parish-Priest was of the pilgrim-train;
An awful, reverend, and religious man.
His eyes diffused a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face.

Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor,
(As God had clothed his own ambassador;)
For such on earth his blessed Redeemer bore.
8 Of sixty years he seemed; and well might last
To sixty more, but that he lived too fast;
Refined himself to soul, to curb the sense,
And made almost a sin of abstinence.
12 Yet had his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promised him sincere.
Nothing reserved or sullen was to see,
But sweet regards, and pleasing sanctity;
16 Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was armed;
Though harsh the precept, yet the preacher charmed;
For, letting down the golden chain from high,
20 He drew his audience upward to the sky:

Herrig-Forster, British Authors.

10

And oft with holy hymns he charmed their ears (A music more melodious than the spheres): For David left him, when he went to rest, 24 His lyre; and after him he sung the best.

He bore his great commission in his look:

But sweetly tempered awe, and softened all he spoke. He preached the joys of Heaven and pains of Hell, 28 And warned the sinner with becoming zeal;

But on eternal mercy loved to dwell.

He taught the gospel rather than the law;
And forced himself to drive, but loved to draw.
32 For fear but freezes minds; but love, like heat,
Exhales the soul sublime, to seek her native seat.

To threats the stubborn sinner oft is hard,
Wrapped in his crimes, against the storm prepared;
36 But when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
Lightnings and thunder (Heaven's artillery)
As harbingers before the Almighty fly:
40 Those but proclaim his style, and disappear;
The stiller sound succeeds, and God is there.
The tithes his parish freely paid he took;
But never sued, or cursed with bell and book.
44 With patience bearing wrong, but offering none:
Since every man is free to lose his own.

The country churls, according to their kind, (Who grudge their dues, and love to be behind,) 48 The less he sought his offerings, pinched the more, And praised a priest contented to be poor.

Yet of his little he had some to spare,.

To feed the famished, and to clothe the bare. 52 For mortified he was to that degree,

A poorer than himself he would not see.

True priests, he said, and preachers of the word,
Were only stewards of their sovereign Lord,
56 Nothing was theirs; but all the public store,
Entrusted riches to relieve the poor;

60

Who, should they steal, for want of his relief,
He judged himself accomplice with the thief.

Wide was his parish; not contracted close

In streets, but here and there a straggling house:
Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the sick, to succour the distressed;
64 Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.

All this the good old man performed alone,
Nor spared his pains; for curate he had none.
68 Nor durst he trust another with his care;
Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair,