That does difpenfe its joys around,
In all the elegance of found,
To be by men admir'd, by angels understood.
every reftlefs paffion cease to move!
And each tumultuous thought obey
The happy influence of this day,
For Mufic's unity and love. Mufic's the foft indulger of the mind,
The kind diverter of our care,
The fureft refuge mournful grief can find; A cordial to the breaft, and charm to every ear. Thus, when the prophet ftruck his tuneful lyre, Saul's evil genius did retire :
In vain were remedies apply'd,
In vain all other arts were try'd:
His hand and voice alone the charm could find,
To heal his body, and compofe his mind.
Now let the trumpet's louder voice proclaim
A folemn jubilee :
For ever facred let it be,
To skilful Jubal's, and Cecila's name.
Great Jubal, author of our lays,
Who firft the hidden charms of mufic found;
And through their airy paths did trace.
The secret springs of found.
When from his hollow chorded fhell
The foft melodious accents fell,
With wonder and delight he play'd,
While the harmonious ftrings his skilful hand obey'd.
But fair Cecilia to a pitch divine
Improv'd her artful lays:
When to the organ fhe her voice did join,
In the Almighty's praise ;
Then choirs of liftening angels stood around,
Admir'd her art, and bleft the heavenly found.
Her praise alone no tongue can reach,
But in the ftrains herself did teach:
Then let the voice and lyre combine,
And in a tuneful concert join;
For mufic's her reward and care,
Above sh' enjoys it, and protects it here,
Then kindly treat this happy day, And grateful honours to Cecilia pay: To her these lov'd harmonious rites belong, To her that tunes our ftrings, and ftill infpires our fong.
THE FORCE OF JEALOUSY.
To a Lady asking if her Sex was as fenfible of that Paffion as Man.
AN ALLUSION то
"O! quam cruentus Fœminas ftimulat Dolor!". SENECA, Hercules Oetæus.
WHAT raging thoughts tranfport the woman's
That is with love and jealoufy poffeft! [breaft, More with revenge, than foft defires she burns, Whose flighted paffion meets no kind returns ;
That courts the youth with long-neglected charms,
And finds her rival happy in his arms!
Dread Scylla's rocks 'tis safer to engage,
And trust a storm, than her deftructive rage:
Not waves, contending with a boisterous wind,
Threaten fo loud, as her tempeftuous mind:
For feas grow calm, and raging storms abate,
But most implacable's a woman's hate:
Tigers and favages lefs wild appear,
Than that fond wretch abandon'd to defpair.
Such were the tranfports Dejanira felt,
Stung with a rival's charms, and husband's guilt:
With fuch despair fhe view'd the captive maid,
Whose fatal love her Hercules betray'd;
Th' unchaft Iöle, but divinely fair!
In love triumphant, though a flave in war;
By nature lewd, and form'd for foft delight,
Gay as the spring, and fair as beams of light;
Whose blooming youth would wildest rage disarm,
And every eye, but a fierce rival's, charm.
Fix'd with her grief the royal matron stood,
When the fair captive in his arms fhe view’d:
With what regret her beauties fhe survey'd,
Ánd curft the power of the too lovely maid,
That reap'd the joys of her abandon'd bed!
Her furious looks with wild disorder glow,
Looks that her envy and refentment show!
To blaft that fair detefted form she tries,
And lightning darts from her diftorted eyes.
Then o'er the palace of falfe Hercules,
With clamour and impetuous rage the flies;
Late a dear witness of their mutual flame,
But now th' unhappy object of her shame;
Whofe confcious roof can yield her no relief,
But with polluted joys upbraids her grief.
Nor can the fpacious court contain her now;
It grows a fcene too narrow for her woe.
Loose and undreft all day she ftrays alone,
Does her abode and lov'd companions fhun.
In woods complains, and fighs in every grove,
The mournful tale of her forfaken love.
Her thoughts to all th' extremes of frenzy fly,
Vary, but cannot ease her misery:
Whilft in her looks the lively forms appear,
Of envy, fondness, fury, and defpair.
Her rage no conftant face of forrow wears,
Oft fcornful fmiles fucceed loud fighs and tears;
Oft o'er her face the rifing blushes spread,
Her glowing eye-balls turn with fury red:
Then pale and wan her alter'd looks appear,
Paler than guilt, and drooping with despair.
A tide of paffions ebb and flow within,
And oft she shifts the melancholy scene:
Does all th' excefs of woman's fury fhow,
And yields a large variety of woe.
Now calm as infants at the mother's breast, Her grief in fofteft murmurs is expreft: She speaks the tendereft things that pity move, Kind are her looks, and languishing with love. Then loud as storms, and raging as the wind, She gives a loose to her diftemper'd mind:
With fhrieks and groans fhe fills the air around,
And makes the palace her loud griefs refound.
Wild with her wrongs, fhe like a fury strays,
A fury, more than wife of Hercules:
Her motion, looks, and voice, proclaim her woes; While fighs, and broken words, her wilder thoughts disclose.
TO HIS PERJURED MISTRESS.
"Nox erat, & cœlo fulgebat luna fereno," &c.
T was one evening, when the rifing moon
Amidst her train of stars distinctly shone;
Serene and calm was the inviting night,
And heaven appear'd in all its luftre bright;
When you, Neæra, you, my perjur'd fair,
Did, to abuse the gods and me, prepare.
'Twas then you swore-remember, faithless maid,
With what endearing arts you then betray'd:
Remember all the tender things that past,
When round my neck your willing arms were cast.
The circling ivys, when the oaks they join,
Seem loose, and coy, to thofe fond arms of thine.
Believe, you cry'd, this folemn vow believe,
The nobleft pledge that Love and I can give;
Or, if there's ought more facred here below,
Let that confirm my oath to heaven and you.
If e'er my breast a guilty flame receives,
Or covets joys but what thy prefence gives ;
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