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 snowy 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 praise of Bacchus then the fweet mufician 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!

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 rife,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes,
And while he heay'n and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride,
He chose a mournful Muse,

By too fevere a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

• Fallen from his high eftate, And welt'ring in his blood, • Deferted at his utmost need, By thofe his former bounty fed; On the bare earth expos'd he lies, • With not a friend to clofe his eyes." With downçaft looks the joyless victor fate, Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of chance below

And now and then a figh he ftole,

And tears began to flow.

The many rend the fkies with loud applause :
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 breast.

• 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

6

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 flafli from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Thofe are Grecian ghosts, 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 feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy;

Thaïs led the way,

To light him to his prey;

nd, 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 swell the foul to rage, or kindle soft defire.
At laft, divine Cecilia came,
Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The sweet enthusiast, 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

WRITTEN ABOUT THE YEAR M DCC VIII.

BY DEAN SWIFT.

N ancient times, as ftory tells,

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

454

BEAUTIES

OF POETRY,

Difguis'd in tatter'd habits, went
To a fmall village down in Kent;
Where, in the ftrollers canting strain,
They begg'd from door to door in vain ;
Try'd ev'ry tone might pity win,

But not a foul would let them in.

Our wand'ring faints, in woeful ftate,
Treated at this ungodly rate,

Having thro' all the village pafs'd,
To a small cottage came at last;
Where dwelt a good old honest yeʼman,
Call'd in the neighbourhood Philemon,
Who kindly did these faints invite,
In his poor hut to pass the night;
And then the hospitable 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 ftill 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.

Na