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's 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 the slew the
The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And, while he Heaven and earth defi'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful muse,
Soft pity to infuse :
He sung Darius, great and good,
By too severe 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 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 sat,
Revolving, in his alter'd soul,
The various turns of fate below;
And now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.
The mighty master smil'd 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 sooth'd 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.
rend the skies with loud applause,
So love was crown'd; but music won the cause,
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair,
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-sunk upon her breast.
Now, strike the golden lyre again;
A louder yet, and yet a lauder strain :
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark! hark! the horrid sound
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,
How they hiss in their hair,
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, unbury'd, remain
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 seiz'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 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,
Enlarg'd 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 rais'd a mortal to the skies;
The House of Sloth-by DR. Dwight.
BESIDE yon lonely tree, whose branches bare,
Rise white, and murmur to the passing air :
There, where the twining briars the yard enclose,
The house of Sloth stands hush'd in long repose.
In a late round of solitary care,
My feet instinct to rove, they knew not where,
I thither came. With yellow blossoms gay,
The tall rank weed begirt the tangled way :
Curious to view, I forced a path between,
And clim'd the broken stile, and gaz'd the scene.
O'er an old well, the curb half fallen spread,
Whose boards, end loose, a mournful creaking made;
Pois'd on a leaning post, and ill-sustain'd,
In ruin sad, a mouldering swepe remain'd;
Useless, the crooked pole still dangling hung,
And tied with thrums, a broken bucket swung.
A half made wall around the garden lay,
Mended, in gaps, with brushwood in decay.
No culture through the woven briars were seen,
Save a few sickly plants of faded green:
The starv'd potatoe hung its blasted seeds,
And fennel struggled to o'er top the weeds.
There gaz'd a raged sheep with wild surprise,
And two lean geese upturn'd their slanting eyes.
The cottage gap'd with many a dismal yawn,
Where, rent to burn, the covering boards were gone.
Or, by one nail, were others endwise hung.
The sky look'd through, and winds portentous rung.
In waves the yielding roof appeared to run,
And half the chimney-top was fallen down.
The ancient cellar-door, of structure rude,
With tattered garments caulk'd, half open stood.
There as I peeped, I saw the ruin'd bin ;
The sils were broke, the walls had crumbled in ;
A few long emptied casks lay mould'ring round,
And wasted ashes sprinkled o'er the ground;
While, a sad sharer in the household ill,
A half starv'd rat crawl'd out and bade farewell.
One window dim, a loop-hole to the sight,
Shed round the room a pale, penurious light:
Here rags gay-coloured eked the broken glass:
There panes of wood supplied the vacant space.
As, pondering deep, I gaz'd, with gritty roar
The hinges creak'd, and open stood the door.
Two little boys, half naked from the waist,
With staring wonder, ey'd me as I pass'd.
The smile of pity blended with her tear-
Ah, me! how rarely comfort visits here!
On a lean hammock, once with feathers fill'd,
His limbs by dirty tatters ill conceal'd,
Though now the sun had rounded half the day,
Stretch'd at full length the lounger snoring lay;
While his sad wife beside her dresser stood,
And wash'd her hungry household's meagre food.
His aged sire, whose beard and flowing hair
Wav'd silvery o'er his antiquated chair,
Rose from his seat; and, as he watch'd my eye,
Deep from his bosom heav'd a mournful sigh
"Stranger, (he cried) once better days I knew,"
And, trembling, shed the venerable dew.
I wish'd a kind reply; but wish'd in vain;
No words came timely to relieve my pain.
To the poor parent and her infants dear,
Two mites I gave, besprinkled with a tear;
And fixed again to see the wretched shed,
Withdrew in silence, clos'd the door and fled.
Yet this so lazy man I've often seen
Hurrying and bustling round the busy green;
The loudest prater in a blacksmith's shop;
The wisest statesman o'er à drunken cup;
(His short bon'd horse, the street that nightly fed,
Tied many an hour, in yonder tavern shed,)
In every gambling, racing match, abroad,
But a rare hearer in the house of God.
A Tea Party.-SALMAGUNDI.
WHEN the party commences, all starch'd and all glum,
They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum :
They will tell of ribbons, of cambric, of lace,
How cheap they were sold-and will tell you the place.
They discourse of their colds, and they hem and they cough,
And complain of their servants to pass the time off.
But Tea, that enlivener of wit and of soul,
More loquacious by far than the drafts of the bowl,
Soon loosens the tongue and enlivens the mind,
And enlightens their eyes to the faults of mankind.
It brings on the tapis their neighbour's defects,
The faults of their friends, or their wilful neglects;
Reminds them of many a good-natured tale
About those who are stylish and those who are frail,
Till the sweet temper'd dames are converted by tea,
Into character manglers-Gunaikophagi.
In harmless chit chat an acquaintance they roast,
And serve up a friend, as they serve up a toast.
Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake,
Is like sweetmeats delicious, or relish'd as cake :
A bit of broad scandal is like a dry crust,
It would stick in the throat, so they butter it first
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