Tho' ftrong their oar, ftill ftronger is their fate :
They strike; and while they triumph, they expire,
In ftrefs of weather, moft; fome fink outright;
O'er them and o'er their names, the billows close;
To-morrow knows not they were ever born.
Others a fhort memorial leave behind,
Like a flag floating when a bark's ingulph'd;
It floats a moment, and is feen no more:
One CÆSAR lives; a thousand are forgot,
How few, beneath th' aufpicious planet born,
(Darlings of Providence! fond fate's elect!)
With fwelling fails make good the promis'd port,
With all their wishes freighted! Yet even These,
Freighted with all their wishes foon complain;
Free from misfortune, not from nature free,
They ftill are men; and when is man fecure?
As fatal time, as form! the rush of years
Beat down their strength; their numberless escapes
In ruin end: And, now, their proud fuccefs
But plants new terrors on the victor's brow:
What pain to quit the world, just made their own,
Their neft fo deeply down'd, and built so high !
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.
WHEN Mufic, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The paffions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell,
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Poffeft beyond the Mufe's painting;
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd.
"Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir❜d.
From the fupporting myrtles round
They fnatch'd her instruments of found,
And as they oft had heard apart
Sweet leffons of her forceful art,
Each for madness rul'd the hour,
Would prove his own expreffive power.
First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd he knew not why, Even at the found himself had made.
Next anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,
In light'nings own'd his fecret ftings,
In one rude clash he ftruck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woeful measures wan Defpair-
Low fullen founds his grief beguil❜d,
A folemn, ftrange, and mingled air,
'Twas fad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure ?
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,
And bade the lovely fcenes at distance hail 1
Still would her touch the fcene prolong,
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on echo ftill through all the fong;
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
A foft refponfive voice was heard at every
And Hope enchanted fmil'd, and wav'd her golden hair,
And longer had the fung-but with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose,
He threw his blood-ftain'd fword in thunder down,
And, with a withering look,
The war denouncing trumpet took,
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of woe,
And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat :
And tho' fometimes each dreary pause between,
Dejected pity at his fide,
Her foul fubduing voice applied,
Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien,
While each strain'd ball of fight feem'd bursting from his head.
Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd,
Sad proof of thy distressful state,
Of differing themes the veering fong was mix'd,
And now it courted love, now raving call'd on Hate.
With eyes uprais'd, as one infpir'd,
Pale Melancholy fat retir'd,
And from her wild fequefter'd feat,
In notes by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her penfive foul-
And dafhing foft from rocks around,
Bubbling runnels join'd the found;
Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er fome haunted ftreams with fond delay,
Round an holy calm diffufing,
Love of peace and lonely mufing,
In hollow murmurs died away.
But O, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone!
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryan known;
The oak-crown'd Sisters, and their chafte-eyed queen,
Satyrs and fylvan boys were seen,
Peeping forth from alleys green;
Brown exercife rejoic'd to hear,
And Sport leapt up and feiz'd his beechen fpear,
Laft came Joy's extatic trial,
He with viny crown advancing,
Firft to the lively pipe his hand addreft.
But foon he faw the brifk awakening viol,
Whofe fweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best.
They would have thought, who heard the ftrain,
They faw in Tempe's vale her native maids,
Amidst the feftal founding fhades,
To fome unwearied minstrel dancing,
While as his flying fingers kifs'd the ftrings,
Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round,
Loose were her treffes feen, her zone unbound,
And he amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
O Mufic! fphere-defcended maid,
Friend of pleasure, wifdom's aid,
Why, Goddefs, why to us denied?
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ?
As in that lov'd Athenian bower,
You learn'd an all-commanding power,
Thy mimic foul, O nymph endear'd!
Can well recal what then it heard.
Where is thy native fimple heart,
Devote to virtue, fancy, art?
Arife, as in that elder time,
Warm, energetic, chafte, fublime!
Thy wonders, in that god-like age,
Fill thy recording Sifter's page--
'Tis faid, and I believe the tale,
Thy humbleft reed could more prevail,
Had more of ftrength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age,
Even all at once together found
Cecilia's mingled world of found-
O bid our vain endeavours ceafe,
Revive the juft defigns of Greece,
Return in all thy fimple state!
Confirm the tales her fons relate!
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