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Such is the power of mighty love!
When he to fair Olympia prest,
Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
A present deity! they shout around:
With ravish'd ears
Affects to nod
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: The jolly god in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums! 20 Flush'd with a purple grace
He shows his honest face:
Drinking joys did first ordain;
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:
Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;
the slain! The master saw the madness rise,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
Changed his hand and check'd his pride.
He sung Darius great and good,
Fallen from his high estate, 5 And weltering in his blood;
Deserted at his utmost need
With not a friend to close his eyes. 10 — With' downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
And tears began to flow.
That love was in the next degree;
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures
War, he sung, is toil and trouble,
Fighting still, and still destroying; 25 If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying:
-The many rend the skies with loud applause; 30 So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
And sigh’d and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, 35 Sigh'd and look’d, and sigh'd again:
At length with love and wine at once opprest
Now strike the golden lyre again:
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark! the horrid sound
And amazed he stares around.
See the Furies arise!
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! 10 Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand!
Inglorious on the plain: 15 Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew!
And glittering temples of their hostile gods. 20 -The princes applaud with a furious joy:
And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
-Thus, long ago,
And sounding lyre 30 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last divine Cecilia came,
Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 35 And added length to solemn sounds,
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before
He raised a mortal to the skies; 40 She drew an angel down!
The Golden Treasury
ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew bespangled wing,
She woos the tardy Spring:
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply their feeble feet;
The birds his presence greet:
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
The herd stood drooping by:
Smiles on past misfortune's brow
Soft reflection's hand can trace,
A melancholy grace;
See a kindred grief pursue;
Approaching comfort view:
On the thorny bed of pain,
And breathe and walk again:
ODE TO SIMPLICITY
To breathe her genuine thought
Who first, on mountains wild, 5 In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song!
Thou, who with hermit heart,
Disdain'st the wealth of art, And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall, 10 But com’st, a decent maid
In Attic robe array'd,