Never ending, ftill beginning, Take the good the gods provide thee. VI. RECITATIVE. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Who caus'd his care, And figh'd and lock'd, figh'd and look'd, Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again: At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast. DUET TO. I. Phoebus, patron of the lyre, 2. Phœbus, patron of the lyre, I. 2. 1 & 2. See a monarch fall'n before ye, Chain'd in beauty's clafping arms ↑ VII. RE VII. RECITATIVE. Now ftrike the golden lyre again; A louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain : Rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Has rais'd up his head, As awak'd from the dead, And amaz'd he ftares around! AIR [with fymphonies.] Revenge, Revenge, Alecto cries, See the furies arife! See the fnakes that they rear, How they hifs in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! VIII. RECITATIVE. Behold a ghaftly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain, And unbury'd remain, Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew. Behold how they tofs their torches on high, And glittering temples of their hoftile gods! N 2 AIR.. AIR. 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. IX. RECITATIVE. Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, Could fwell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire. Inventrefs of the vocal frame; The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred store, And added length to folemn founds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. AIR. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown; He rais'd a mortal to the skies, She drew an angel down. SONGS. S O N G S. I. HY origin 's divine, I fee, THY Of mortal race thou can'ft not be; Thy lip a ruby lustre shows; Thy purple cheek outshines the rofe, II. CONSTANTIA, fee, thy faithful flave, Dies of the wound thy beauty gave! Ah! gentle nymph, no longer try Thy pity to my love impart, A wedded wife if thou would'st be, Ere yet the western fun decline, My hand and heart fhall both be thine. III. THRICE T III. HRICE lov'd Conftantia, heavenly fair, My love, that ne'er will ceafe, my love E TERNAL are the chains which here When Hymen joins our hands, we fwear And when, by death, the fair are snatch'd away, ANO. |