On which the Tartar king did ride : Not trick'd and frounced as she was wont But kercheft in a comely cloud With minute drops from off the eaves. Where the rude axe, with heavéd stroke, With such concert as they keep And let some strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in aery stream Softly on my eyelids laid : And, as I wake, sweet music breathe And love the high-embowed roof, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. These pleasures, Melancholy, give, J. Milton CXIV SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA Where the remote Bermudas ride And yet far kinder than our own? Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage: And sends the fowls to us in care And all the way, to guide their chime, A. Marvell CXV AT A SOLEMN MUSIC Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, With saintly shout and solemn jubilee ; Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In first obedience, and their state of good. O may we soon again renew that Song, And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long To his celestial concert us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light! J. Milton CXVI ALEXANDER'S FEAST, OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC '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! Timotheus placed on high With flying fingers touch'd the lyre : Who left his blissful seats above- 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; 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 ! 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. 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 ! |