For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat : These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain; 365 COLLINS. THE PASSIONS. WHEN Music, heav'nly maid, was young, First Fear his hand, its skill to try, Next Anger rush'd; his eyes on fire In lightnings own'd his secret stings; In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woful measures wan Despair, 25 Low sullen sounds, his grief beguil'd, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. Revenge impatient rose : He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down, And with a with'ring look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, And ever and anon he beat A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close, And longer had she sung, but, with a frown, And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. 40 45 The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between, Her soul-subduing voice applied, 50 Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd, Sad proof of thy distressful state; Of diff'ring themes the veering song was mix'd; 55 And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, 60 Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul; And, dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay, 65 Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. But, O, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone, 70 Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The oak-crowned sisters and their chast-eyed queen, 75 Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear, And Sport leapt up and seiz'd his beechen spear, Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: 80 He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, But soon he saw the brisk-awak'ning viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best; To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round; Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; As if he would the charming air repay, Why, Goddess, why to us deny'd A solemn, strange, and mingled air; But Thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still thro' all the song; And, where her sweetest theme she chose, 35 330 Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. Revenge impatient rose : He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, And ever and anon he beat A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close, And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. 40 45 The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between, Her soul-subduing voice applied, 50 Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd, Sad proof of thy distressful state; Of diff'ring themes the veering song was mix'd; 55 And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, 60 Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul; And, dashing soft from rocks around, Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs diea away. 65 |