“ Thou who hast taught me to forgive the ill, | And now four days the Sun had seen our woes :

And recompense as friends the good misled; Four nights the Moon beheld th' incessant fire: If mercy be a precept of thy will,

It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, Return that mercy on thy servant's head. | And further from the feverish North retire. " Or if my heedless youth has stepp'd astray, In th' empyrean Heaven, the bless'd abode, Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand;

The thrones and the dominions prostrate lie, On me alone thy just displeasure lay,

Not daring to behold their angry God;
But take thy judgments from this mourning land. And an hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky.

"We all have sinn'd, and thou hast laid us low,

As humble earth from whence at first we came :
Like flying shades before the clouds we show,
And shrink like parchment in consuming flame.

At length th' Almighty cast a pitying eye,

And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast : He saw the town's one-half in rubbish lie,

And eager flames drive on to storm the rest.

40 let it be enough what thou hast done ; [street, An hollow crystal pyramid he takes,

When spotted Deaths ran arm'd through every In firmamental waters dipt above :
With poison'd darts which not the good could shun, Of it a broad extinguisher he makes,
The speedy could outfly, or valiant meet

And hoods the flames that to their quarry drove. « The living few, and frequent funerals then, The vanquish'd Fires withdraw from cvery place,

Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place Or full with feeding sink into a sleep :
And now those few who are return'd again,

| Each household genius shows again his face, Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace. And from the hearths the little Lares creep.

Now frequent trines the happier lights among,
And high raised Jove from his dark prison freed,

ALEXANDER'S FEAST:
Those weights took off that on his planet hung,

OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.
Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed.

An Ode in Honour of St. Cecilia's Day.
Methinks already from this chymic flame, | 'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
I see a city of more precious mold :

By Philip's warlike son:
Rich as the town which gives the Indies name,

Aloft in awful state With silver pav'd, and all divine with gold."

The godlike hero sate

On his imperial throne : Already labouring with a mighty fate,

His valiant peers were plac'd around ; She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound : And seems to have renew'd her charter's date,

(So should desert in arms be crown'd) Which Heaven will to the death of Time allow. The lovely Thais, by his side,

Sate, like a blooming eastern bride, More great than human now, and more august, In flower of youth and beauty's pride. Now deify'd she from her fires does rise :

Happy, happy, happy pair! Her widening streets on new foundations trust,

None but the brave, And opening into larger parts she flies.

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.
Before she like some shepherdess did show,

CHORUS
Who sat to bathe her by a river's side ;
Not answering to her fame, but rude and low,

Happy, happy, happy pair !
Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride.

None but the brave,

None but the brave,
Now like a maiden queen she will behold,

None but the brave deserves the fair.
From her high turrets, hourly suitors come:
The East with incense, and the West with gold,

Timotheus, plac'd on high
Will stand like suppliants to receive her doom.

Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre : The silver Thames, her own domestic flood,

The trembling notes ascend the sky, Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train;

And heavenly joys inspire. And often wind, as of his mistress proud,

The song began from Jove, With longing eyes to meet her face again.

Who left his blissful seats above,

(Such is the power of mighty love.) The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god The glory of their towns no more shall boast,

Sublime on radiant spires he rode, And Seyne, that would with Belgian rivers join,

When he to fair Olympia press d : Shall find her lustre stain'd, and traffic lost.

And while he sought her snowy breast :

Then, round her slender waist he curl'd, [world. The venturous merchant, who design'd more far,

And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the And touches on our hospitable shore,

The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,
Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star, A present deity, they shout around:
Shall here unlade him and depart no more.

A present deity the vaulted roofs rebound :

With ravish'd ears Our powerful navy shall no longer meet,

The monarch hears, The wealth of France or Holland to invade ;

Assumes the god, The beauty of this town without a fleet,

Affects to nod, From all the world shall vindicate her trade.

And seems to shake the spheres.

CHORUS And while this fam'd emporium we prepare,

With ravish'd ears The British ocean shall such triumphs boast,

The monarch hears, That those, who now disdain our trade to share,

Assumes the god, Shall rob like pirates on our wealthy coast.

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres. Already we have conquer'd half the war,

And the less dangerous part is left behind: The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung: Our trouble now is but to make them dare,

Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young : And not so great to vanquish as to find.

The jolly god in triumph comes ;

Sound the trumpets ; beat the drums; Thus to the eastern wealth through storms we go,

Flush'd with a purple grace But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more ;

He shows his honest face; A constant trade-wind will securely blow,

Now give the hautboys breath: he comes, he comes And gently lay us on the spicy shore.

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

Now strike the golden lyre again :

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,

Break his bands of sleep asunder, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;

And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Rich the treasure,

Hark, hark, the horrid sound
Sweet the pleasure ;

Has rais'd up his head!
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he stares around.
Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain; Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
Fought all his battles o'er again; (the slain.

See the Furies arise:
And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew See the snakes that they rear,
The master saw the madness rise ;

How they hiss in their hair,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes ! And, while he Heaven and Earth defy'd,

Behold a ghastly band, Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.

Each a torch in his hand ! He chose a mournful Muse

Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, Soft pity to infuse:

And unbury'd remain He sung Darius great and good,

Inglorious on the plain : By too severe a fate,

Give the vengeance due Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

To the valiant crew. Fallen from his high estate,

Behold how they toss their torches on high, And weltring in his blood;

How they point to the Persian abodes, Deserted, at his utinost need,

And glittering temples of their hostile gods. By those his former bounty fed :

The princes applaud, with a furious joy ; On the bare earth expos'd he lies,

And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy ; With not a friend to close his eyes.

Thais led the way, With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,

To light him to his prey,
Revolving in his alter d soul

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.
The various turns of Chance below;
And, now and then, a sigh he stole ;

CHORUS
And tears began to flow.

And the king seiz'da flambeau with zeal to destroy ;
CHORUS

Thais led the way,
Revolving in his alter'd soul

To light him to his prey,
The various turns of Chance below; 1 And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.
And, now and then, a sigh he stole;
And tears began to flow.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, The mighty master smil'd, to see

While organs yet were mute; That love was in the next degree:

Timotheus, to his breathing flute, 'Twas but a kindred sound to move,

And sounding lyre, For pity melts the mind to love.

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,

At last divine Cecilia came, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.

Inventress of the vocal frame; War, he sung, is toil and trouble;

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Honour but an empty bubble;

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, Never ending, still beginning,

And added length to solemn sounds, Fighting still, and still destroying;

With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. If the world be worth thy winning,

Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Think, O think, it worth enjoying:

Or both divide the crown; Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

He rais'd a mortal to the skies ;
Take the good the gods provide thee.

She drew an angel down.
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.

GRAND CHORUS.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

At last divine Cecilia came,
Who caus'd his care,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look’d, | The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again :

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,

And added length to solemn sounds, The ranquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
CHORUS.

Or both divide the crown;
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
Gaz'd on the fair

She drew an angel down.
Who caus'd his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again :
At length, with love and winę at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

Let fall some drops of pity on our grief,
PALAMON AND ARCITE: | If what we beg be just, and we deserve relief :

For none of us, who now thy grace implore,
OR THE KNIGHT'S TALE.

But held the rank of sovereign queen before ;

Till, thanks to giddy Chance, which never bears, Book I.

That mortal bliss should last for length of years,

She cast us headlong from our high estate,
Ix days of old, there liv'd, of mighty fame, And here in hope of thy return we wait :
A valiant prince, and Theseus was his name: And long have waited in the temple nigh,
A chief, who more in feats of arms excell'd, Built to the gracious goddess Clemency.
The rising nor the setting Sun beheld.

But reverence thou the power whose name it bears, Of Athens he was lord; much land he won, Relieve th' oppress'd, and wipe the widow's tears And added foreign countries to his crown.

I, wretched I, have other fortune seen, In Scythia with the warrior queen he strove,

The wife of Capaneus, and once a queen : Whom first by force he conquered, then by love; At Thebes he fell, curst be the fatal day! He brought in triuinph back the beauteous dame, And all the rest thou seest in this array With whom her sister, fair Emilia, came.

To make their moan, their lords in battle lost With honour to his home let Theseus ride,

Before that town, besieg'd by our confederate host :
With Love to friend, and Fortune for his guide, But Creon, old and impious, who commands
And his victorious army at his side.

The Theban city, and usurps the lands,
I pass their warlike pomp, their proud array, Denies the rites of funeral fires to those
Their shouts, their songs, their welcome on the way. Whose breathless bodies yet he calls his foes.
But, were it not too long, I would recite

Unburn'd, unbury'd, on a heap they lie ;
The feats of Amazons, the fatal fight

Such is their fate, and such his tyranny; Betwixt the hardy queen and hero knight;

No friend has leave to bear away the dead, The town besieg'd, and how much blood it cost But with their lifeless limbs his hounds are fed" The female army and th' Athenian host;

At this she shriek'd aloud; the mournful train The spousals of Hippolita, the queen ;

Echo'd her grief, and, groveling on the plain, What tilts and turneys at the feast were seen; With groans, and hands upheld, to move his ininc, The storm at their return, the ladies' fear :

Besought his pity to their helpless kind! But these, and other things, I must forbear.

The prince was touch'd, his tears began to flow, The field is spacious I design to sow,

And, as his tender heart would break in two, With oxen far unfit to draw the plow :

He sigh'd, and could not but their fate deplore, The remnant of my tale is of a length

So wretched now, so fortunate before.
To tire your patience, and to waste my strength; Then lightly from his lofty steed he few,
And trivial accidents shall be forborn,

| And raising, one by one, the suppliant crew, That others may have time to take their turn; To comfort each, full solemnly he swore, As was at first enjoin'd us by mine host,

That by the faith which knights to knighthood bore, That he whose tale is best, and pleases most, And whate'er else to chivalry belongs, Should win his supper at our common cost. He would not cease, till he reveng'd their wrongs:

And therefore where I left, I will pursue That Greece should see perform’d what he declard; This ancient story, whether false or true,

And cruel Creon find his just reward. In hope it may be mended with a new.

He said no more, but, shunning all delay, The prince I mentioned, full of high renown, Rode on; nor enter'd Athens on his way : In this array drew near th' Athenian town;

But left his sister and his queen behind, When, in his pomp and utmost of his pride, And wav'd his royal banner in the wind : Marching, he chanc'd to cast his eye aside,

Where in an argent field the god of war And saw a choir of mourning dames, who lay Was drawn triumphant on his iron car ; By two and two across the common way :

Red was his sword, and shield, and whole attire, At his approach they rais'd a rueful cry,

And all the godhead seem'd to glow with fire; And beat their breasts, and held their hands on high, Ev'n the ground glitter'd where the standard few, Creeping and crying, till they seiz'd at last

And the green grass was dy'd to sanguine hue. His courser's bridle, and his feet embrac'd.

High on his pointed lance his pennon bore · Tell me," said Theseus, “ what and whence His Cretan fight, the conquer d Minotaur : you are,

The soldiers shout around with generous rage, And why this funeral pageant you prepare ? And in that victory their own presage. Is this the welcome of my worthy deeds,

He prais'd their ardour ; inly pleas'd to see To meet my triumph in ill-omen'd weeds?

His host the flower of Grecian chivalry. Or envy you my praise, and would destroy All day he march'd ; and all th' ensuing night; With grief my pleasures, and pollute iny joy ? | And saw the city with returning light. Or are you injur'd, and demand relief?

The process of the war I need not tell, Name your request, and I will ease your grief." | How Theseus conquer'd, and how Creon fell:

The most in years of all the mourning train Or after, how by storm the walls were won, Began (but swooned first away for pain);

Or how the victor sack'd and burn'd the town : Then scarce recover'd spoke : “ Nor envy we How to the ladies he restor'd again Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory;

The bodies of their lords in battle slain : 'Tis thine, O king, thi' afflicted to redress,

And with what ancient rites they were interr'di And Fame has fill'd the world with thy success : All these to fitter times shall be deferr'd: We, wretched women, sue for that alone,

I spare the widows' tears, their woeful cries, Which of thy goodness is refus'd to none;

And howling at their husbands' obsequies ;

How Theseus at these funerals did assist, | Ev'n wondering Philomel forgot to sing,
And with what gifts the mourning dames dismiss'd. And learn'd from her to welcome in the Spring.

Thus when the victor chief had Creon slain, The tower, of which before was mention made,
And conquer'd Thebes, he pitch'd upon the plain Within whose keep the captive knights were laid,
His mighty camp, and, when the day return'd, Built of a large extent, and strong withal,
The country wasted, and the hamlets burn'd, Was one partition of the palace wall:
And left the pillagers, to rapine bred,

The garden was enclos'd within the square, Without control to strip and spoil the dead. Where young Emilia took the morning air. There, in a heap of slain, among the rest

It happen'd Palamon, the prisoner knight, Two youthful knights they found beneath a load Restless for woe, arose before the light, oppress'd

And with his gaoler's leave desir'd to breathe Of slaughter'd foes, whom first to death they sent, An air more wholesome than the damps beneath : The trophies of their strength, a bloody monument. This granted, to the tower he took his way, Both fair, and both of royal blood they seem'd, Cheer'd with the promise of a glorious day: Whom kinsmen to the crown the heralds deem'd; Then cast a languishing regard around, That day in equal arms they fought for fame; And saw with hateful eyes the temples crown'd Their swords, their shields, their surcoats, were the With golden spires, and all the hostile ground. same.

He sigh’d, and turn'd his eyes, because he knew Close by each other laid, they press'd the ground, 'Twas but a larger gaol he had in view : Their manly bosoms pierc'd with many a griesly Then look'd below, and, from the castle's height, wound;

Beheld a nearer and more pleasing sight, Nor well alive, nor wholly dead they were, The garden, which before he had not seen, But some faint signs of feeble life appear: In Spring's new livery clad of white and green, The wandering breath was on the wing to part, | Fresh flowers in wide parterres, and shady walks Weak was the pulse, and hardly heav'd the heart.

between. These two were sisters' sons; and Arcite one, This view'd, but not enjoy'd, with arms across Much fam'd in fields, with valiant Palamon. He stood, reflecting on his country's loss; From these their costly arms the spoilers rent, Himself an object of the public scorn, And softly both convey'd to Theseus' tent : And often wish'd he never had been born. Whor, known of Creon's line, and cur'd with care, At last, for so his destiny requir’d, He to his city sent as prisoners of the war,

With walking giddy, and with thinking tir'd, Hopeless of ransom, and condemn'd to lie

He through a little window cast his sight, In durance, doom'd a lingering death to die. Though thick of bars, that gave a scanty light: This done, he march'd away with warlike sound, But ev'n that glimmering serv'd him to descry And to his Athens turn'd with laurels crown'd, Th' inevitable charms of Emily. Where happy long he liv'd, much lov'd, and more Scarce had he seen, but, seiz'd with sudden smart, renown'd.

Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart; Bat in a tower, and never to be loos'd,

Struck blind with over-powering light he stood, The woeful captive kinsmen are enclos'd.

Then started back amaz'd, and cry'd aloud. Thas year by year they pass, and day by day, Young Arcite heard; and up he ran with haste, Till once, 'twas on the morn of cheerful May, To help his friend, and in his arms embrac'd ; The young Emilia, fairer to be seen

And ask'd him why he look'd so deadly wan, Than the fair lily on the flowery green,

And whence and how his change of cheer began, More fresh than May herself in blossoms new, Or who had done th' offence? “ But if,” said he, Far with the rosy colour strove her hue,

“ Your grief alone is hard captivity, Wak'd, as her custom was, before the day,

For love of Heaven, with patience undergo
To do the observance due to sprightly May: A cureless ill, since Fate will have it so:
Far sprightly May commands our youth to keep So stood our horoscope in chains to lie,
The vigils of her night, and breaks their sluggard | And Saturn in the dungeon of the sky,
sleep;

Or other baleful aspect, rul'd our birth,
End gentle breast with kindly warmth she moves ; When all the friendly stars were under Earth :
Inspires new flames, revives extinguish'd loves. Whate'er betides, by Destiny 'tis done ;
In this remembrance Emily, ere day,

And better bear like men, than vainly seek to shun." Aruse, and dress'd herself in rich array;

“ Nor of my bonds,” said Palamon again, Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair ; “ Nor of unhappy planets I complain ; Adomn ber shoulders fell her length of hair : But when my mortal anguish caus'd me cry, A ribband did the braided tresses bind,

That moment I was hurt through either eye; The rest was loose, and wanton'd in the wind. Pierc'd with a random shaft, I faint away, Aurora had but newly chas'd the night,

And perish with insensible decay : And purpled o'er the sky with blushing light, A glance of some new goddess gave the wound, When to the garden walk she took her way,

Whom, like Acteon, unaware I found. To sport and trip along in cool of day,

Look how she walks along yon shady space, And offer maiden vows in honour of the May. Not Juno moves with more majestic grace ; At every turn, she made a little stand,

And all the Cyprian queen is in her face. And trust among the thorns her lily hand

If thou art Venus (for thy charms confess To draw the rose ; and every rose she drew, That face was form'd in Heaven, nor art thou less ; She stook the stalk, and brush'd away the dew : Disguis'd in habit, undisguis'd in shape) Then party-colour'd flowers of white and red O help us captives from our chains t'escape ; She wore, to make a garland for her head :

But if our doom be past, in bonds to lie This done, she sung and carol'd out so clear, For life, and in a loathsome dungeon die, That men and angels might rejoice to hear :

M 2