Where Peace descending bids her olives spring,
And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise ; 430
Enough for me, that to the list ning swains
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.

ODE for MUSIC

ON

ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

.1.

Deshe breathing instruments inspire,

Efcend;

Wake into voice each silent string,
And sweep the founding lyre !
In a sadly-pleasing strain

5 Let the warbling lute complain :

Let the loud trumpet found,
'Till the roofs all around
The Thrill echos rebound :
F 4

While Ode for Music.] 'This is one of the most artful as well as sublime of our Poet's smaller compositions. The first ftanza is a description of the various tones and measures in music. The second relates their power over the several passions in general. The third, their use in "inspiring the Heroic passions in particular. The fourth, fifth, and foxth, their power over all nature in the fable of Orpheus's expedition to hell; which subject of illustration arose naturally out of the preceding mention of the Argonautic expedition, where Orpheus gives an example of the use of Music to inspire the heroic passions. The seventh and laft concludes in praise of Music, and the advantages of the sacred above the prophane.

While in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
The deep, majeitic, folemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers soft and clear,
Gently steal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rise

And fill with spreading sounds the skies ;
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats;

"Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The strains decay,

And melt away,
In a dying, dying fall.

15

20

11.

25

By Music, minds an equal témpér know,

Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. If in the breast tumultuous joys arise, Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;

Or, when the soul is press’d with cares,

Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:

Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,

List’ning Envy drops her snakes;
Intestine war no more our Passions

wage, And giddy Factions hear away their rage.

30

35

III.

But when our Country's cause provokes to Arms,
How martial music ev'ry bosom warms!

So