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Now give the hautboys breath; he comes! he comes!

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did firft ordain :
Bacchus' bleffings are a treasure,
Drinking is the foldier's pleafure.
Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain :
Fought all his battles o'er again :

And thrice he rooted all his foes; and thrice he flew

the flain.

The master saw the madness rise ;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And, while he heav'n and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful mufe

Soft pity to infufe:

He fung Darius great and good,

By too fevere a fate,

Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,

Fall'n from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood:
Deserted at his utmost need
By thofe his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,

With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcaft looks the joyless victor fate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of fate below;
And now and then a figh 'he stole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty mafter fmil'd to fee
That love was in the next degree:

'Twas but a kindred found to move;
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly fweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War, he fung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;
Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying :

If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais fits belide thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the skies with loud applaufe;
So love was crown'd, but mufic won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, and figh'd and look'd
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again;

At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

Now firike the golden lyre again;
And louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain,
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

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 the air,

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand;

These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

And unbury'd remain
Inglorious on the plain;
Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew :

Behold how they tofs their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods!-
The princes applaud, with a furious joy;
And the king feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy;
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,

While organs yet were mute;

Timotheus to his breathing flute

And founding lyre,

Could swell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire.
At laft divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet 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,
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Or both divide the crown;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

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CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE CURATE A FRAGMENT,

O'ER the pale embers of a dying fire,
His little lamp fed with but little oil,
The Curate fat, (for feanty was his hire)
And ruminated fad the morrow's toil.

'Twas Sunday's eve, meet season to prepare
The stated lectures of the coming tide;
No day of reft to him, but day of care,

At many a church to preach with tedious ride. .
Before him spread his various fermons lay,
Of explanation deep, and fage advice;
The harvest gain'd from many a thoughtful day,
The fruit of learning bought with heavy price.

On these he cast a fond, but tearful eye,

Awhile he paus'd, for forrow dimm'd his fight; Arous'd at length, he heav'd a bitter figli,

And thus complain'd, as well indeed he might: "Hard is the fcholar's lot, condemn'd to fail

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Unpatroniz'd, o'er life's tempestuous wave; "Clouds blind his fight; nor blows a friendly gale, "To waft him to one port-except the grave.

"Big with prefumptive hope, I launch'd my keel, "With youthful ardour, and bright fcience fraught "Unanxious of the pains long doom'd to feel,

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Unthinking that the voyage might end in naught.. "Pleas'd on the summer fea, I danc'd awhile, "With gay companions, and with views as fair "Outstripp'd by these, I'm left to humble toil, "My fondeft hope abandon'd in despair.

"Had my ambitious mind been led to rife

"To highest flights, to Crofier, and to Pall, "Scarce could I mourn the miffing of the prize, "For foaring wishes well deferve their fall.

"No tow'ring thoughts like thefe engag'd my breaft,
"I hop'd (nor blame, ye proud, the lowly plan)
"Some little cove, fome parfonage of rest,
"The fcheme of duty suited to the man;

"Where, in my narrow fphere secure, at ease,
"From vile dependance free, I might remain,
"The guide to good, the counsellor of peace,
"The friend, the shepherd of the village fwain.
"Yet cruel fate deny'd the fmall requeft,
"And bound me faft in one ill-omen'd hour,
Beyond the chance of remedy, to rest

The ilave of wealthy pride and prieftly pow'r.

"Oft as in ruffet weeds I fcour along,

"In diftant chapels haftily to pray,

"By nod fcarce notic'd of the paffing throng,
"'Tis but the Curate, ev'ry child will fay.
Nor circumfcrib'd in dignity alone,
"Do I my rich fuperior's vaffal ride;

"Sad penury, as was in cottage known,

"With all its frowns, does o'er my roof prefide.

Ah! not for me the harvest yields its store,

"The bough-crown'd fhock in vain attracts mine eye; "To labour doom'd, and deftin'd to be poor, I pafs the field, 1 hope not envious, by.

"When at the altar, furplice clad, I stand,

"The bridegroom's joy draws forth the golden fee; "The gift I take, but dare not close my hand; "The fplendid prefent centres not in me.

PENROSE,

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