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Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd,

Sad proof of thy distressful ftate, Of differing themes the veering song was mix’d, And now it courted Love, now raving callid on

Hate.

With eyes op-rais'd, as one inspir'd,
Pale Melancholy fat retir’d,
And from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd thro' the mellow Horn her pensive foul :

And dashing soft from rocks around,

Bubbling runnels join'd the found; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay,

Round an holy calm diffusing,

Love of peace, and lonely musing,
In hollow murmurs died away.

But

But O, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone!
When Chearfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,

Her bow across her shoulder flung,

Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,

The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ;
The oak-crown'd Sisters, and their chaste-eyed
Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen, [queen,

Peeping from forth their alleys green ;
Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear,

And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear,
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial,
He with viny crown advancing,

Firft to the lively pipe his hand addrest,
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,
Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best:

They would have thought, who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids,
Amidst the festal sounding shades,
F 3

То

!

To fome unwearied minstrel dancing,

While, as bis flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
Love fram'd with Mirth, a gay fantastic round,
Loose were her tresses seen, ber zone unbound,

And he, amidft his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

O Mufie, sphere-descended maid,
Friend of pleafure, wisdom's aid,
Why, Goddess, why to us denied ?
Lay's thon thy antient lyre afide ?
As in that lov'd Athenian bower,
You learn’d an all commanding power,
Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd,
Can well recall what then it heard,
Where is thy native fimple heart,
Devote to virtue, fancy, art ?
Arise, as in that elder time,
Warm, energic, chafte, sublime !

Thy

Thy wonders, in that god-like age,
Fill thy recording Sister's page
"Tis said, and I believe the tale,
Thy humbleft Reed could more prevail,
Had more of strength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age,
Even all at once together found
Cæcilia's mingled world of found
O bid our vain endeavours cease,
Revive the just designs of Greece,
Return in all thy simple ftate!
Confirm the tales her sons relate!

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WHile born to bring the Muse's happier days,

, A patriot's hand protects a poet's lays, While nurs'd by you she sees her myrtles bloom, Green and unwither'd o'er his honour'd tomb : Excuse her doubts, if yet she fears to tell What secret transports in her bosom swell; With conscious awe the hears the critic's fame, And blushing hides her wreath at Shakespear's name. Hard was the lot those injur'd strains endur'd, Unown'd by science, and by years obscurd : Fair Fancy wept; and echoing fighs confessd A fixt despair in every tuneful breast. Not with more grief th' afflicted (wains appear, When wintry winds deform the plenteous year ; When lingering froits the ruin'd seats invade Where Peace resorted, and the Graces play'd.

Each

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