II

Or taught my soul to fancy ought
But a white, celestial thought;
When yet I had not walked above
A mile or two from my first love,
And looking back-at that short space-
Could see a glimpse of His bright face;
When on some gilded cloud or flower
My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense,
A several sin to every sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness.

20

TO CHLOE WEEPING

See, whilst thou weep'st, fair Chloe, see The world in sympathy with thee!

The cheerful birds no longer sing,

Each droops his head, and hangs his wing;

The clouds have bent their bosom lower,
And shed their sorrows in a shower;
The brooks beyond their limits flow,
And louder murmurs speak their woe.
The nymphs and swains adopt thy cares,
They heave thy sighs and weep thy tears.
Fantastic nymph, that grief should move
Thy heart obdurate against love!
Strange tears, whose power can soften all
But that dear breast on which they fall!

A SONG

If wine and music have the power
To ease the sickness of the soul,
Let Phoebus every string explore,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl.

Let them their friendly aid employ

To make my Chloe's absence light, And seek for pleasure to destroy The sorrows of this live-long night.

But she to-morrow will return.

Venus, be thou to-morrow great, Thy myrtles strew, thy odors burn, And meet thy favorite nymph in state. Kind goddess, to no other powers

Let us to-morrow's blessings own; Thy darling loves shall guide the hours, And all the day be thine alone.

JOHN DRYDEN (1631-1700) ALEXANDER'S FEAST,

or

THE POWER OF MUSIC.

An Ode in Honor of St. Cecilia's Day.

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 crowned.) The lovely Thais, by his side,

Sate like a blooming eastern bride, 10
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.

And sighed and looked, sighed and

looked,

CHORUS

to destroy; Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.

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. 130 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