Then to the well-trod stage anon, Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, Such as the melting soul may pierce, The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus' self may heave his head Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear His half-regain'd Eurydice. These delights if thou canst give, MIRTH, with thee I mean to live. XV. ALEXANDER'S FEAST. 'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son~~ Aloft, in awful state, The god-like hero sat On his imperial throne. His valiant peers were plac'd around, Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound: So should desert in arms be crown'd. The lovely Thais, by his side, Sat like a blooming eastern bride, Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. Timotheus, plac'd on high Amid the tuneful choir, With flying fingers touch'd the lyre; The list'ning crowd admire the lofty sound: A present deity! they shout around! A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound.— The monarch hears, Affects to nod, And seems to shake the spheres. 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 hautboys 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: Rich the treasure; Sweet the pleasure; Sweet is pleasure after pain. Sooth'd 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 master saw the madness rise; He sung Darius, great and good, Fall'n! fall'n! fall'n! fall'n! The various turns of fate below; The mighty master smil'd, to see Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Never ending, still beginning, If the world be worth thy winning, The many rend the skies with loud applause: So love was crown'd; but music won the cause. Now, strike the golden lyre again! A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder! Has rais'd up his head, As awak'd from the dead; And amaz'd he stares around. Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries See the furies arise! See the snakes that they rear, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! 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! Behold! how they toss their torches on high, And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods! The princes applaud with a furious joy; And the king seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey; And, like another Helen, fired another Troy! Could swell the soul to rage-or kindle soft desire. At last, divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame. The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother wit, and arts unknown before. Or both divide the crown: He rais'd a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down! XVI.-EXTRACTS FROM GRAY'S BARD. "RUIN seize thee, ruthless' King! Though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing, Nor even thy virtues, tyrant! shall avail Stout Gloucester stood aghast in speechless trance: Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air;) It was a common tradition in Wales, that Edward I. ordered all the Bards to be put to death. On that tradition this Ode is founded. |