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Upon its midnight battle ground
No other voice, nor sound is there,
And, when the solemn and deep church bell
The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
The spectral camp is fled;
Faith shineth as a morning star,
Our ghastly fears are dead.
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
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre :
And heavenly joys inspire.
Who left his blissful seats above-
And while he sought her snowy breast;
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the
-The listening crowd admire the lofty sound!
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 sungOf 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 !
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
The master saw the madness rise,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he Heaven and Earth defied
He chose a mournful Muse
He sung Darius great and good,
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
-With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
The various turns of Chance below;
The mighty master smiled to see
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,
Gazed on the fair
Who caused his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
At length with love and wine at once opprest
Now strike the golden lyre again :
Break his bands of sleep asunder
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
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,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
-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
-Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute
And sounding lyre
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, and arts unknown before.
-Let old Timotheus yield the prize
Or both divide the crown ;
He raised a mortal to the skies ;
The Passionate Shepherd
COME live with me and be my love,
And I will make thee beds of roses
A gown made of the finest wool,
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
Prepar'd each day for thee and me.
The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing
The Flowers o' the Forest
I'VE heard them lilting, at the ewe-milking,
But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning; The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede awae.