Music herself is lost, in vain she brings 55 Her choicest notes to praise the best of kings: Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, 65 We add not to your glory, but employ Our time, like angels, in expressing joy.: Nor is it duty, or our hopes, alone Create that joy, but full fruition: 70 We know those blessings which we must possess, And judge of future by past happiness. No promise can oblige a prince so much Still to be good, as long to have been such. A noble emulation heats your breast, 75 And your own fame now robs you of your rest. Good actions still must be maintain'd with good, As bodies nourish'd with resembling food. You have already quench'd Sedition's brand; And Zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land. 80 The jealous sects, that dare not trust their cause And their appeal alone to Cæsar make. 85 95 Imperial pow'r with your paternal sway. From those great cares when ease your soul unbends, Your pleasures are design'd to noble ends : Born to command the mistress of the seas, Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please. Hither in summer ev'nings you repair To take the fraicheur of the purer air : Undaunted here you ride, when Winter raves, VII. Thus long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, Timotheus, to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred, store, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, : 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. GRAND CHORUS. "At last divine Cecilia came, "Inventress of the vocal frame; "The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, "Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, " And added length to solemn sounds, " With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown "Let old Timotheus yield the prize, "Or both divide the crown; " He rais'd a mortal to the skies, [before. CONTENTS. PREFACE to Absalom and Achithophel, Page 5 9 Absalom and Achithophel, a Poem in two Parts. The Hind and the Panther, a Poem in three Parts. Epistle to the Whigs, a prefatory Discourse to the Alexander's Feast: or, The Power of Music. An Ode, 223 The Secular Mask, 230 To his Sacred Majesty. A Panegyric on his Co ronation, 235 From the APOLLO PRESS, by the MARTINS, END OF VOLUME SECOND. JAN. Since Momus comes to laugh below, Old Time begin the show, That he may see, in every scene, What changes in this age have been, CHRO. Then, goddess of the silver bow, begin. [Horns, or hunting music within.] Enter DIANA. DIA. With horns and with hounds I waken the day, And hye to the woodland-walks away; I tuck up my robe, and am buskin'd soon, And tie to my forehead a wexing moon : I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox, And chace the wild goats o'er summits of rocks; With shouting and hooting we pierce thro' the sky, And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. CHO. of all.] "With shouting and hooting we pierce " thro' the sky, " And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry." JAN. Then our age was in its prime : мом. A very merry, dancing, drinking, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. cho. of all.] " Then our age was in its prime, "Free from rage, and free from crime. " A very merry, dancing, drinking, " Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time." [Dance of DIANA'S attendants.] |