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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! they shout around :
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound :

With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,

35 Affects to nod

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 !

40 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,

50 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. The master saw the madness rise,

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ;
And while he Heaven and Earth defied
Changed his hand and check'd his pride.

He chose a mournful Muse
Soft pity to infuse :

60 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;

65 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 alter'd soul

71 The various turns of Chance below ; And now and then a sigh he stole,

And tears began to flow.
The mighty master smiled to see

75 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.

80 War, he sung, is toil and trouble, Honour but an empty bubble ; Never ending, still beginning,

Fighting still, and still destroying ; If the world be worth thy winning,

85 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 crown'd, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

91 Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again :

95 At length with love and wine at once opprest The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

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.

105 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 ! 110

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 :

115 Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods. 120

- 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 ! 125

-Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute
And sounding lyre,

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

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, andartsunknown before.
-Let old Timotheus yield the prize

Or both divide the crown ;
He raised a mortal to the skies ;

140 She drew an angel down !


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Now the golden Morn aloft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft

She woos the tardy Spring :
Till April starts, and calls around

The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o'er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply their feeble feet ;

10 Forgetful of their wintry trance

The birds his presence greet :
But chief, the sky-lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And lessening from the dazzled sight, 15
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly ;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by :

Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know ;
'Tis Man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.

Smiles on past Misfortune's brow

Soft Reflection's hand can trace,
And o'er the cheek of Sorrow throw

A melancholy grace ;
While Hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lour

And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy Pleasure leads,

See a kindred Grief pursue ;
Behind the steps that Misery treads 35

Approaching Comfort view :
The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
And blended form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.

40 See the wretch that long has tost

On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost

And breathe and walk again :
The meanest floweret of the vale,

The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.




THE QUIET LIFE Happy the man, whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air

In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire.

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