-The listening crowd admire the lofty sound! A present deity! they shout around: A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound! With ravish'd ears The monarch hears, And seems to shake the spheres. The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musi cian 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; Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. 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 Soft pity to infuse: He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high estate, - With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, Revolving in his alter'd soul The various turns of Chance below; The mighty master smiled to see That love was in the next degree; 'Twas but a kindred sound to move, 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 caus'd 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! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark! the horrid sound Has rais'd up his head: As awak'd from the dead, And amaz'd, 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: To the valiant crew! Behold how they toss their torches on high, 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, Timotheus, to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. At last divine Cecilia came, The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, 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 rais'd a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down! John Dryden. |