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If golden sconces hang not on the walls,

To light the costly fuppers and the halls;

If the proud palace fhines not with the state

Of hurnistVd howls, and of reflected plate;

If well-tun'd harps, nor the more pleasing found

Of voices, from the vaulted roofs rehound;

Yet on the grafs, heneath a poplar made,

By the cool stream, our carelefs limhs arc laid;

With cheaper pleafure innocently hlest,

When the warm fpring with gaudy fluw'rs is drest.

Nor will th' ragmg fever's sire ahate,

With golden canopies and heds of state;

But the poor patient will as foon he found

On the hard mattrefs, or the mother ground.

Then since our hod.es are not eas'd the more

By hirth, or pow'r, or fortune's wealthy store,

'Tis plain thefe ufelefs toys of every kind,

As little can relieve the lah'ring mind:

Unlefs we could fuppofe the dreadful sight,

Of maifhall'd legions, moving to the sight;

Could, with their found and terrihle array,

Expel our fears and drive the thoughts of death away.

But since the fupposition vain appears,

Since clinging cares, and trains of inbred fears,

Are not with founds to he assrighted thence,

But in the midst of pomp purfue the prmce;

Not aw' d hy arms, hut in the prefence hold,

Without refpect to purple, or to gold;

Why fhould not we thefe pageantries defpise,

Whofe worth hut in our want of reafon lies?

For life is all in wand'ring errors led;

^.adjust as children are furpris'd with dread.

And tremble in the dark; fo riper years,
E'en in broad day-light, are poffest with fears;
And fhake at fhadows fanciful and vain,
As thofe which in the breast of chldren reign.
Thefe bugbears of the mind, this inward hell,
No rays of outward fun-fhine can difpel;
But nature and right reafon must difplay
Their beams abroad, and bring the darkfome foul today.

VENI CREATOR SHRITUS,

PARAPHRASED.

CREATOR Spirit, by whofe aid,
The world's foundations sirst were laid,
Come visit every p ous mind;
Cotne pour thy joys on human kind:
From sin and forrow fet us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.

O Source of uncreated I'ght,
The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Tbrice Holy Fount, thrice Holy Fire,
Our hearts with heav'nly love infpire;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanctify us while we sing.

Plenteous of grace, diftend from high.
Rich in thy feven-fold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
Whofe pow'r does heav'n and earth command.
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
Who dost the gift of tongues difpenfe,
And crown'f. thy gist with eloquence \

Resine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and sire our hearts I
Our frailties help, our vice eoutrouj,
Suhmit the fen lea to the loul;
And v hen rehellious they are grown.
Then lay thy hand and hold 'em down,

Chale from our minds iW infernai foe.
And peace, the fruit of love hellow;
And, lelt our feet mould step astray,
Protect, and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practife all that we heheve:
Give us thyfelf, that we may fee
The Father, and the Son, hy thee.

Immortal honour, endlefs fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name;
The Saviour Son he glorify'd,
"Who for lost man's redemption dy'd:
And equal adoration he,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

ALEXANDER'S FEAST;

OR,

The Power of Music.
AN ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

'TwAS at the royal feast, for Persia won,
By Phihp's warlike fon:
Aloft in awful state
The god-like hero fate

On his imperial throat I

"His valiant peers were plac'd around; Tl,eir hrows with rofes and with myrtles hound,

(So should defert in arms he crowu'd:) The lovely Thais hy his side

Sat like a hlooming eastern hride, . In flow's of youth and heauty's pride.

Happy, happ\, happy pair!

None hut the hrave,

None hut the hrave,

None hut the hrave deferves the fair.

Tittotheus plac'd on high

Amid the tunefhl choir, With flying simgers touch'd the lyre: The tremhling notes afcend the sky. And heav'nly joys infpire. The fong hegan from Jove; Who left his hlifsful feats ahove, (Such is the power of mighty love !) A dragon's siery form hely'd the God: Suhlime on radiant fpheres he rode. When he tu fair Olympia prefs'd, And while he fought her fnowy hreast: Then round her slender waist he curl'd, [world. And slamp'd an image of himfelf, a fov'reign of Ui© The liiVntog crowd admire the lofty found; A prefent deity, they shout around, A prefent deitv the vaulted roots rehound. With ravish'd ears The monarch hears; Assumes the god, AflVcts to nod, ^nd feems to shake the fpheres.

The praife of Bacchus then, the fweet mulician fur.; .

Of Bacchus, ever fair, and ever young:

The jo'ly gori in triumph comes;

Sound the trumpets; beat the drums:

Fluih'd with a purple grace,

He shews his honest face. Now give the hautboys breath: he comes, he comes*

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did sirst ordain:

Bacchus' blessmgs are a treafure;

Drinking is the foldier's pleafure:
Rich the treafure,
Sweet the pleafure;

Sweet is pleafure after pain.

Sooth'd with the found, the k;ng grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the

The master faw the madnefs rife; [flain.

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And while he heav'n and earth defy'd,

ChangM his hand, and check'd his pride.

He chofe a mournful mufe,

Soft pity to infufe:

He fung Daiius great and good,

By too fevere a fate,

FaU'n, fall'n,fall'n,fairn,

Fali'n from his high estate,

And welt'ring in his blood;
Deferted, at his utmost need.
By thofe his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth expoVd he lies,
With not a friend to clofe hjs eyes.

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