9

Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.8
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 !
Flush'd with a purple grace,

He shows his honest face.
Now give the hautboys10 breath:-He comes! he comes!

Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain.

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure ;
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.11

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;
Sweet is pleasure after pain !

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain,

Fought all his battles o'er again :
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the

slain !
The master12 saw the madness rise ;
His glowing cheeks, hists ardent eyes :
And while hel3 heaven and earth defied,
Changed his hand and check'd his's pride.

He chose a mournful muse,

Soft pity to infuse:
He sung Darius' great and good!

By too severe a fate,
Fallen ! fallen ! fallen ! fallen !

Fallen from his high estate,
And weltering in his blood;

Deserted at his utmost need
By those his former bounty fed ;
On the bare earth exposed he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes !

With downcast look the joyless victor sate, Revolving, in his alter'd soul,

The various turns of chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole,

And tears began to flow !

The mighty master15 smiled, to see
That love was in the next degree :16
'Twas but a kindred sound to move;
For pity melts the mind to love.

17

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.

War,” he sung, “is toil and trouble ;
Honour, but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,

66

Fighting still, and still destroying.
If the world be worth thy winning,

Think, oh think it worth enjoying !
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.”
The many18 rend the skies with loud applause :
So Love was crown'd; but Music won the cause

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,19

Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,
And sigh’d and look’d, sigh’d and look'd,

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:
At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor-sank upon her breast.
Now strike the golden lyre again !
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain !
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder!
Hark! hark !-the horrid sound

Has raised up his head,

As awaked from the dead:
And, amazed, he stares around.
" Revenge! revenge!” Timotheus cries--

66 See the Furies20 arise!
See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !

66

:

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand :
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

And, unburied, remain
Inglorious on the plain.
Give the

vengeance due
To the valiant crew !21
Behold! how they toss their torches on high,

How they point to the Persian abodes,

And glittering temples of their hostile gods.” 22 The princes applaud, with a furious joy; And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy;

Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey !
And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.

Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learned to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute

And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

At last, divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame.24

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarged the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn sounds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown

before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown:
He raised a mortal to the skies;

She drew an angel down!

- 44

JOSEPH ADDISON.-Born, 1672; Died, 1719.

Addison is chiefly known by his exquisite prose writings in the Tatler and Spectator. He was for some time Secretary of State, and was only 47 when he died.

CREATION.

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land,
The work of an Almighty Hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And, nightly, to the listening earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;