The fong began from Jove,

Who left his blissful feats above;
(Such is the pow'r of mighty love!)
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god;
Sublime on radiant fpires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,
And while he fought her fnowy breast;

Then round her flender waist he curl'd,

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

A prefent 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 fweet musician 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.

• Now 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 treasure,

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

The mafter faw the madness rise,

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes,
And while he heav'n and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chofe a mournful Mufe,

By too fevere a fate,

· Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high estate,

And welt'ring in his blood.
Deferted at his utmost need,

By those his former bounty fed;

On the bare earth expos'd he lies,

• With not a friend to close his eyes.' With downcast looks the joyless victor fate, Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of chance below;
And now and then a figh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smil'd to fee
That Love was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred found to move,
For Pity melts the mind to Love.
Softly fweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War,' he fung, is toil and trouble,
• Honour, but an empty bubble:
Never ending, ftill beginning,

Fighting ftill, and ftill deftroying;
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, think it worth enjoying!

Lovely Thaïs fits befide thee;

Take the good the gods provide thee!'
3 L2

The

The many rend the fkies with loud applaufe:
So Love was crown'd, but Mufick 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 opprefs'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breaft.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again :

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder.

Hark, hark! the horrid found

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 arife!

• See the fnakes that they rear,
• How they hifs in their hair?

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
• Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Thofe are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain,

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 seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy:

Thaïs led the way,

To light him to his prey;

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute,,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute
And founding lyre,

Could fwell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire.
At laft, divine Cecilia came,
Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The sweet enthufiaft, from her facred store,
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.

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON.

I'

N ancient times, as ftory tells,

their

The faints would often leave their cells,

And stroll about, but hide their quality,
To try good people's hofpitality.

It happen'd on a winter night,
As authors of the legend write,
Two brother hermits, faints by trade,
Taking their tour in masquerade,

Difguis'd

Having thro' all the village pafs'd,
To a fmall cottage came at laft;
Where dwelt a good old honest ye'man,
Call'd in the neighbourhood Philemon,
Who kindly did these faints invite,
In his poor hut to pass the night;
And then the hofpitable fire
Bid Goody Baucis mend the fire,
While he from out the chimney took
A flitch of bacon off the hook,
And freely from the fatteft fide
Cut out large flices to be fry'd;
Then stepp'd afide to fetch 'em drink,
Fill'd a large jug up to the brink,
And faw it fairly twice go round:
Yet (what is wonderful!) they found
'Twas still replenish'd to the top,
As if they had not touch'd a drop.
The good old couple were amaz'd,
And often on each other gaz'd;
For both were frighten'd to the heart,
And just began to cry, What art!?
Then foftly turn'd afide, to view
Whether the lights were burning blue.
The gentle pilgrims, foon aware on't,
Told them their calling and their errant.
• Good folks! you need not be afraid;
We are but faints: the hermits faid.

No