Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame,

sounding pace.

Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er,

flame.

Woods that wave o'er Delphi's steep,
Isles that crown the Egean deep,
Fields that cool Illissus laves,
Or where Meander's amber waves
In lingering labyrinths creep,

How do your tuneful echoes languish,
Mute, but to the voice of anguish!
Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breathed around;
Every shade and hallowed fountain

Murmured deep a solemn sound;
Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,

Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power,
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,
They sought, O Albion, next thy sea-engirdled
coast.

Far from the sun and summer gale,
In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid,
What time, where lucid Avon strayed,

To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face; the dauntless child Stretched forth his little arms and smiled. "This pencil take," she said, "whose colors clear

Richly paint the vernal year;

Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal boy! This can unlock the gates of joy,

Of horror that, and thrilling fears,

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears."

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

But, ah, 'tis heard no more!

O lyre divine, what daring spirit
Wakes thee now? Though he inherit
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion
That the Theban Eagle bear,
Sailing with supreme dominion
Through the azure deep of air;
Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray
With orient hues, unborrowed of the sun;
Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant
way

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the good how far! but far above the great!

Nor second he, that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of ecstasy, The secrets of the abyss to spy.

He passed the flaming bounds of place and time;

The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.

Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous

car,

Wide o'er the fields of glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race,

Timotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers touched the lyre; The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire. The song began from Jove, Who left his blissful seats above, (Such is the power of mighty love.) A dragon's fiery form belied the god; Sublime on radiant spires he rode, When he to fair Olympia pressed, And while he sought her snowy breast; Then round her slender waist he curled, And stamped 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 ravished ears

The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

CHORUS.

With ravished ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,

Of Bacchus ever fair and young.

The jolly god in triumph comes,
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!
Flushed 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.

CHORUS.

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.

The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heaven and earth defied,
Changed his hand, and checked his pride.
He chose a mournful muse
Soft pity to infuse;

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;
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 altered soul

The various turns of chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole, And tears began to flow.

CHORUS.

Revolving in his altered soul

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
That love was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the soul to love.
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honor but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying,
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, oh 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 crowned, but Music won the

cause.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,

Sighed and looked, and sighed again; At length, with love and wine at once oppressed,

The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast.

CHORUS.

The prince unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,

Sighed and looked, and sighed again; At length, with love and wine at once oppressed,

The vanquished 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.

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.
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!
The princes applaud with a furious joy,