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So when the first bold vefsel dar'd the seas,
High on the stern the Thracian rais’d his strain,
While Argo saw her kindred trees

4@ Descend from Pelion to the main.

Transported demi-gods stood round, And men grew heroes at the sound,

Enflam'd with glory's charms:
Each chief his sev’nfold fhield display'd, 45
And half unsheath'd the shining blade :
And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms, to arms, to arms !

IV.
But when thro' all th' infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegeton surrounds,

Love, strong as Death, the Poet led

To the pale nations of the dead,
What sounds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,
O'er all the dreary coasts !

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Dreadful gleams,
Dismal screams,
Fires that glow,
Shrieks of woe,
Sullen moans,

бо Hollow groans,

And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
But hark! he strikes the golden lyre ;
And fee! the tortur'd ghosts respire,

See, shady forms advance!
Thy ftóne, O Sysiphus, stands still,
Ixion refts upon his wheel,
And the pale spectres dance !

The

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The Furies fink upon their iron beds,
And snakes unçurld hang liftning round their heads.

V.

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By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow

O'er th’ Elysian flow'rs;
By those happy souls who dwell
In yellow meads of Afphodel,

Or Amaranthine bow'rs;
By the hero's armed shades,
Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades;
By the youths that dy'd for love,

Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,
Restore, restore Eurydice to life :
Oh take the husband, or return the wife !

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He sung, and hell consented

To hear the Poet's prayer:
Stern Proserpine relented,
And gave him back the fair,

Thus song could prevail

O'er death, and o'er hell,
A conquest how hard and how glorious ?

Tho' fate had faft bound her

With Styx nine times round her, Yet music and love were victorious.

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

95 Now

Now under hanging mountains,
Beside the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in Mæanders,
All alone,

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Unheard, unknown,
He makes his moan;

And calls her ghost,
For ever, ever, ever loft!
Now with Furies surrounded,

105 Despairing, confounded, He trembles, he glows,

Amidst Rhodope's snows: See, wild as the winds, o'er the desart he flies; Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals cries

Ah see, he dies !
Yet ev’n in death Eurydice he sung,
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,

Eurydice the woods,
Eurydice the floods,

115 Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.

VII.
Music the fiercest grief can charm,
And fate's feverest rage disarm:
Mufic can foften pain to ease,

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And make despair and madness please :
Our joys below it can improve,

And antedate the bliss above. This the divine Cecilia found, And to her Maker's praise confin'd the found. 125

When

IVhen the full organ joins the tuneful quirc,

Th' immortal pow'rs incline their car; Borne on the fwelling notes our fouls aspire, While folemn airs improve the facred fire;

And Angels lean from heay'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 soul to heav'n.

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YE

STROPHE I.
shades, where sacred truth is fought;
Groves, where immortal Sages taught :
Where heav'nly visions Plato fir'd,
And Epicurus lay inspir'd !
In vain your guiltless laurels stood

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Unspotted long with human blood.
War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,
And steel now glitters in the Muses shades.

ANTIS TROPHE 1.
Oh heav'n-born sisters! 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 whose desire these two Chorus’s were composed to supply as many, wanting in his play. They were fet many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-house. P.

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