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By turns, they felt the glowing mind
First, FEAR, his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid :
Ev'n at the sound himself had made.
Next, Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings;
And swept with þurried hand the strings.
With woful measures wan DesPAIR
Low sullen sounds bis grief beguiled:
'Twas sad by fits-by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O HOPE! with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure?
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call’d on Echo still through all her song:
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close: And HOPE, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair.
And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,
REVENGE impatient rose,
And with a withering look,
The war-denouncing trumpet took,
And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat:
Dejected Puty, at his side,
Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight-seem'd bursting from his
Thy numbers, JEALOUSY, to nought were fix'd:
Sad proof of thy distressful state;
And, now, it courted Love; now, raving, call'd on Hate.
With eyes upraised, as one inspired,
And dashing soft from rocks around,
Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay,
(Round a holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing) In hollow murmurs died away.
But 0, how alterd was its sprightlier tone,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
The Hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known!
Peeping from forth their alleys green:
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial :
First to the lively pipe his hand address'd,
But soon le saw the brisk-awakening viol,
Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. They would have thought, who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids,
Amid the festal sounding shades,
Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round,
As if he would the charming air repay,
O Music! sphere-descended maid!
Had more of strength, Hiviner rage,
Distant Prospect of Eton College.
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the watery glade,
Her Henry's holy shade;
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
His silver-winding way!