O'er all the dreary coafts! 55 Dreadful gleams, Difmal fcreams, Fires that glow, 60 65 71 Shrieks of woe, Sullen moans, Hollow groans, And cries of tortur'd ghofts! But hark! he ftrikes the golden lyre; See, fhady forms advance! Thy ftone, O Syfiphus, ftands ftill, And the pale spectres dance! The Furies fink upon their iron beds, And snakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads. V. By the ftreams that ever flow, By thofe happy fouls who dwell Or Amaranthine bow'rs; Reftore, reftore Eurydice to life; He fung, and hell consented Stern Proferpine relented, And gave him back the fair. Thus fong could prevail 75 80. 85 A con H 2 A conquest how hard and how glorious! Tho' fate had faft bound her With Styx nine times round her, Yet mufic and love were victorious. VI. But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes: No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. Befide the falls of fountains, Or where Hebrus wanders, All alone, Unheard, unknown, Amidst Rhodope's fnows: See, wild as the winds, o'er the defart he flies; Hark! Hemus refounds with the Bacchanals cries Ah fee, he dies! Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he fung, Eurydice ftill trembled on his tongue, Eurydice the woods, Eurydice the floods, Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung, VII. Mufic the fierceft grief can charm, And fate's fevereft rage difarm: 100 105 110 115 Mufic can foften pain to ease, 120 And make defpair and madness please: Our Our joys below it can improve, And antedate the blifs above. This the divine Cecilia found, And to her Maker's praise confin'd the found. 125 Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear; Borne on the swelling notes our fouls aspire, While folemn airs improve the facred fire; And Angels lean from heav'n to hear. Of Orpheus now no more let Poets tell, To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv'n; His numbers rais'd a fhade from hell, Hers lift the foul to heav'n, 130 TWO TWO CHORUSES TO THE TRAGEDY OF BRUTUS. CHORUS OF ATHENIANS. STROPHE I. E fhades, where facred truth is fought; YE Groves, where immortal Sages taught; And Epicurus lay infpir'd! In vain your guiltlefs laurels ftood War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades, ANTISTROPHE I. Oh heav'n-born fifters! fource of art! To what new clime, what distant sky, Say, will ye blefs the bleak Atlantic fhore? 5 15 STROPHE STROPHE II. When Athens finks by fates unjust, When wild barbarians fpurn her duft; An Athens rifing near the pole ! 'Till fome new Tyrant lifts his purple hand, And civil madness tears them from the land. ANTISTROPHE II. Ye Gods! what juftice rules the ball? In ev'ry age, in ev'ry ftate! 20 25 Still, when the luft of tyrant pow'r fucceeds, 30 CHORUS of YOUTHS and VIRGINS. SEMICHORUS. H Tyrant Love! haft thou poffeft Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim, And Arts but foften us to feel thy flame. Love, foft intruder, enters here, But ent'ring learns to be fincere. Which Nature has impreft? breaft? ૐ 10 CHORUS. |