And, while he Heaven and Earth defied,
Changed his hand, and checked his 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 welt'ring 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 looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his altered soul

The various turns of Chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole ; And tears began to flow.

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

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

Think, O think it worth enjoying:

Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee!

The many rend the skies with loud applause ;
So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause.

The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, Sighed and looked, and sighed again :

At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, The vanquished victor sunk 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,

See the Furies arise:

See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Those 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,

How they point to the Persian abodes,

And glittering temples of their hostile gods!

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 billows 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;

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.

DRYDEN.

THE WAR-HORSE.

THE fiery courser, when he hears from far

The sprightly trumpets and the shouts of war,
Pricks up his ears, and, trembling with delight,
Shifts place, and paws, and hopes the promised fight;
On his right shoulder his thick mane reclined,
Ruffles at speed, and dances in the wind.

Eager he stands-then, starting with a bound,
He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground;
Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow,
He bears his rider headlong on the foe.

DRYDEN.

VENI CREATOR.

CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid

The world's foundations first were laid,
Come, visit every pious mind;
Come, pour thy joys on human kind;
From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy Thee.

O source of uncreated light,
The Father's promised Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy sacred unction bring,
To sanctify us while we sing.

Plenteous of grace, descend from high,

Rich in thy sevenfold energy!

Thou strength of His almighty hand,

Whose power does heaven and earth command;

Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense,
And crown'st thy gifts with eloquence!

Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But O, inflame and fire our hearts!

Our frailties help, our vice control,
Submit the senses to the soul;

And when rebellious they are grown,

Then lay thine hand, and hold them down.

Chase from our minds the infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe:
Give us Thyself, that we may see
The Father, and the Son, by Thee.

Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend the Almighty Father's name!
The Saviour Son be glorified,

Who for lost man's redemption died!

And equal adoration be,

Eternal Paraclete, to Thee!

DRYDEN.

HYMN FOR THE MORNING.

AWAKE, my soul! awake, mine eyes!

Awake, my drowsy faculties!

Awake, and see the new-born light

Spring from the darksome womb of night!

Look up, and see the unwearied sun,

Already has his race begun :

The pretty lark is mounted high,

And sings her matins in the sky.