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Shall free-born men, in humble awe,

Submit to servile shame;
Who from consent and custom draw
The same right to be ruld by law,

Which kings pretend to reign?
The duke shall wield his conq’ring sword,

The chancellor make a fpeech, The king shall pass his honest word, The pawn'd revenue sums afford, And then, come kiss

my

breech.

So have I seen a king on chess

(His rooks and knights withdrawn, His queen

and bishops in distress) Shifting about, grow less and less,

With here and there a pawn.

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I.
ROM harmony, from heav'nly harmony

This universal frame began :
When nature underneath a heap

Of jarring atoms lay,

And cou'd not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,

Arise, ye more than dead.
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their stations leap,

And Music's power obey.
From harmony, from heav'nly harmony

This universal frame began :

From harmony to harmony Thro all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man.

II.
What passion cannot Music raise and quell!

When Jubal struck the corded shell,
His list’ning brethren' stood around,
And, wond'ring, on their faces fell

To worship that celestial sound.
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell

Within the hollow of that shell,

That spoke so sweetly and so well.
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?

III.
The trumpet's loud clangor

Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of

anger
And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat

Of the thund'ring drum
Cries, hark! the foes come;
Charge, Charge, 'tis too late to retreat.

IV.
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers

The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.

V,
Sharp violins proclaim
Their jealous pangs, and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of paffion,
For the fair, disdainful, dame.

VI.
But oh! what art can teach,

What human voice can reach,
The facred organ's praise ?
Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heav'nly ways
To mend the choirs above.

VII.
Orpheus cou'd lead the fayage race ;
And trees uprooted left their place,

Sequacious of the lyre :
But bright Cecilia rais’d the wonder higher :
When to her organ vocal breath was giv’n,
An angel heard, and straight appear'd

Mistaking earth for heav'n.

Grand CH OR US.

As from the pow'r of sacred lays

The Spheres began to move,

And
sung the great Creator's praise

To all the bless'd aboves
So when the last and dreadful baur
This crumbling pageant Mall devour,
The trumpet shall be beard on bigb,
The dead Mall live, the living die,
And Music Mall untune the sky.

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ON

I.
N a bank, begde a' willow,

Heav’n her cov'ring, earth her pillow,
Sad Amynta figh'd alone :
From the chearless dawn of morning
'Till the dews of night returning,
Singing thus she made her moan :

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