A dragon's fiery form bely'd the God:

Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,

And ftamp'd an image of himself, a fov'reign ofthe world.― The lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found;

A present deity they fhout around,

A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound;
With ravifh'd ears

The monarch hears,
Affumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And feems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet mufician fung:
Of 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 fhews his honeft face,

To give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!
Bacchus ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain :
Bacchus' bleffings are a treasure,

Drinking is the foldier's pleasure.
Rich the treafure,

Sweet the pleasure ;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain ;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the flain.

The mafter faw the madness rife ;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And

And while he heav'n and earth defy'd

Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride,

He chofe a mournful mufe

Soft pity to infufe:

He fung Darius great and good,

By too fevere a fate,

Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fall'n from his high cftate,
And welt'ring in his blood:
Deferted at his utmoft need,
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies.

With not a friend to close his eyes,

With downcaft look the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

Softly fweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures,
War he fung is toil and trouble e;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting ftill, and still destroying :

If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O, think it worth enjoying !

Lovely Thais fits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.

The many rend the fkies with loud applaufe ;
So love was crown'd, but mufic won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh’d again;
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again;

And louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain, Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder,

Hark, hark, the horrid sound

Has rais'd up his head ;

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he ftares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,

See the furies arise,

See the fnakes that they rear,

How they hifs in the air,

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand,

Thefe are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were fain,

And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain;
Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew;

Behold

Behold how they tofs their torches on high,

How they point to the Perfian abodes,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods!
The Princes applaud with a furious joy ;

And the King feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to deftroy;
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.

Thus, long ago,

Could fwell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire.
At laft divine Cecilia came,

Inventrefs of the vocal frame ;

The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore;

Enlarg❜d the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn founds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before,.

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown;

He rais'd a mortal to the skies

She drew an angel down,

CHA P. XXXIV.

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCKMORTON'S

BULFINCH.

E nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless fav'rites fhed,
Oh fhare Maria's grief:

Her favʼrite, even in his cage,

(What will not hunger's cruel rage?) Affaffin'd by a thief..

Where Rhenus ftrays his vines among,
The egg was laid from which he sprung,
And though by nature mute,

Or only with a whistle blest,

Well taught, he all the founds exprefs'd
Of flagelet or flute.

The honours of his ebon poll

Were brighter than the fleekeft mole ;-
His bofom of the hue

With which Aurora decks the skies,
When piping winds shall soon arise-
To fweep up all the dew

Above, below, in all the house,
Dire foe, alike to bird and mouse,
No cat had leave to dwell;

And Bully's cage supported flood,
On props of fmootheft-fhaven wood
Large-built and lattic'd well

Well