Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

The Furies fink upon their iron beds,

And snakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads.

V.

By the ftreams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow
O'er th' Elyfian flow'rs;

By those happy fouls who dwell
In yellow meads of Afphodel,

Or Amaranthine bow'rs;
By the hero's armed fhades,
Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades;
By the youths that dy'd for love,
Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,
Reftore, reftore Eurydice to life:
Oh take the husband, or return the wife!

He fung, and hell confented

To hear the Poet's prayer:
Stern Proferpine relented,

And gave him back the fair.
Thus fong could prevail

O'er death, and o'er hell,

A conqueft how hard and how glorious?

Tho' fate had faft bound her.

With Styx nine times round her,

Yet mufic and love were victorious.

VI.

But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes:
Again fhe falls, again fhe dies, fhe dies!
How wilt thou now the fatal fifters move?
No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.

75

85

90

95

Now

Now under hanging mountains,

Befide the falls of fountains,

Or where Hebrus wanders,

Rolling in Meanders,
All alone,

Unheard, unknown,

He makes his moan;
And calls her ghost,
For ever, ever, ever loft!
Now with Furies furrounded,

Defpairing, confounded,

He trembles, he glows,

Amidst Rhodope's fnows:

[ocr errors][merged small]

See, wild as the winds, o'er the defart he flies; Hark! Hamus refounds with the Bacchanals cries

Ah fee, he dies!

Yet ev❜n in death Eurydice he fung,

Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,

Eurydice the woods,

Eurydice the floods,

Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.

VII.

Mufic the fierceft grief can charm,

And fate's fevereft rage difarm:

Mufic can soften pain to ease,

And make despair and madness please:

Our joys below it can improve,

And antedate the blifs above.

This the divine Cecilia found,

115

120

And to her Maker's praise confin'd the found. 125

When

When the full organ joins the tuneful quire,

Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear;
Borne on the swelling notes our fouls afpire,
While folemn airs improve the facred fire;
And Angels lean from heav'n to hear.
Of Orpheus now no more let Poets tell,
To bright Cecilia greater power is giv'n;
His numbers rais'd a fhade from hell,
Hers lift the foul to heav'n.

130

TWQ

TWO

CHORU S'S

TO THE

Tragedy of BRUTUS".

YE

CHORUS of ATHENIANS.

STROPHE I.

E fhades, where facred truth is fought;
Groves, where immortal Sages taught:
Where heav'nly vifions Plato fir'd,
And Epicurus lay inspir'd!

In vain your guiltlefs laurels ftood
Unfpotted long with human blood.

War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,
And steel now glitters in the Mufes fhades.

ANTIS TROPHE I

Oh heav'n-born fifters! source of art!
Who charm the sense, or mend the heart;
Who lead fair Virtue's train along,

Moral Truth, and myftic Song!

To

*Altered from Shakespear by the Duke of Buckingham, at whofe defire thefe two Chorus's were composed to fupply as many, wanting in his play. They were fet many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-houfe. P.

To what new clime, what distant sky,
Forfaken, friendless, shall ye fly?,

Say, will ye blefs the bleak Atlantic shore?
Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?

STROPHE II.

When Athens finks by fates unjust,
When wild Barbarians fpurn her duft;
Perhaps ev❜n Britain's utmost shore -
Shall ceafe to blufh with ftranger's gore,
See Arts her favage fons controul,

And Athens rifing near the pole !
'Till fome new Tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And civil madness tears them from the land.

ANTIS TROPHE II.
Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball?
Freedom and Arts together fall;
Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are slaves.
Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!

Still, when the luft of tyrant power fucceeds,
Some Athens perishes, fome Tully bleeds.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

3

CHORUS

« ZurückWeiter »