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 rife; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; Soft pity to infuse; He fung Darius great and good, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high eftate, And welt'ring in his blood; Deferted, at his utmost need, With down-caft looks the joylefs victor fate, Re Revolving in his alter'd foul The various turns of chance below; CHORU S. Revolving in his alter'd soul The various turns of chance below; V. The mighty master smil'd, to see Never ending, ftill beginning, Take the good the gods provide thee. Who caus'd his care, And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd, At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd, CHO CHORU S. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Who caus'd his care, And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd, VI. Now ftrike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. And roufe 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 fnakes that they rear, How they hifs in their hair, And the fparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghaftly band, Each a torch in his hand! Thofe are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain, And unbury'd remain Give the vengeance due Behold how they tofs their torches on high, And the king feiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy; To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. CHORU S. And the king feiz'd a flambeau with zeal to defroy; To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. VII. Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, Could swell the foul to rage, or kindle soft defire. Inventrefs of the vocal frame; 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. Grand CHORUS. At laft, divine Cecilia came, Inventrefs of the vocal frame; The faveet enthufiaft, 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. Or both divide the crown; He rais'd a mortal to the skies; THE THE SECULAR MAS QUE1. Enter Janus. Janus. An hundred times the rolling fun CE Around the radiant belt has run In his revolving race. Behold, behold, the goal in fight, Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. Enter Chronos, with a fcythe in his hand, and a globe his back; which he fets down at his entrance. Chronos. Weary, weary of my weight, Let me, let me drop my freight, And leave the world behind. I could not bear, Momus. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well haft thou done To lay down thy pack, And lighten thy back, The world was a fool, e'er fince it begun, And fince neither Janus nor Chronos, nor I, Can hinder the crimes, Or mend the bad times, 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. Cho. of all three. 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. 1 This Mafque, with the fong of a scholar and his miftrefs, was performed in 1700, for the author's benefit, with the play of the Pilgrim, with alterations by Sir John Vanbrugh, his fortune and health being at that time in a declining ftate. Janus. |