TW
WAS at the royal feaft, for Perfia won
By Philip's warlike fon :
Aloft, in awful state,
The god-like hero fate,
On his imperial throne.
His valiant peers were plac'd around,
Their brows, with rofes, and with myrtle, bound:
So fhould defert in arms be crown'd.
The lovely Thais, by his fide,
Sat like a blooming eaftern bride,
In flower of youth, and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
None but the brave, deferves the fair.
Timotheus, plac'd on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers, touch'd the lyre.
The trembling notes afcend the fky,
And heav'nly joys infpire.
The fong began from Jeve;
Who left his blifsful feats above,
Such is the pow'r of mighty love!
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god :
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,
When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,
And ftamp'd an imagine of himself, a fov'reign of the
world.
The
The lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found:
A prefent deity, they fhout around;
A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound.
With ravish'd ears,
The monarch hears;
Affumes the god;
Affects to nod;
And seems to shake the fpheres.
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 y oung,
Drinking joys did firft 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 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,
Soft pity to infuse.
He fung Darius, great and good,
By too fevere a fate,
Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fall'n from his high eftate,
And welt'ring in his blood:
Deserted at his utmost need,
By thofe his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies-
With not a friend to close his eyes.
With down-caft look, the jo ylefs victor fat,
Revolving, in his alter'd foul,
The various turns of fate below:
And, now and then, a figh he ftole;
And tears began to flow.
The mighty mafter fmil'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 sweet, 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, O think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais fits beside thee;
Take the good the gods provide thee.-
The many rend the fkies with loud applause:
So love was crown'd; but mufic won the caufe.-
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 vanquifl'd victor-funk upon her breast.
Now, ftrike the golden lyre again.
A louder yet; and yet, a louder strain.
Break his bands of fleep asunder;
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 snakes 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!
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were flain,
And, unbury'd, remain
Inglorious on the plain.
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew.
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 feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to deftroy:
Thais 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 soft desire.
At laft, divine Cecilia came,
Inventrefs of the vocal frame.
The sweet enthusiast, from her facred ftore,
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.
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