When mature underneath a heap

Of jarring atoms lay,

And could not heave her head,

The tuneful voice was heard from high,
Arise, ye more than dead.

Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their stations leap,

And Music's power obey.

From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began:

From harmony to harmony

Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in Man.

5

10

15

II.

What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
When Jubal struck the corded shell,
His listening brethren stood around,
And, wondering, on their faces fell
To worship that celestial sound.

20

Less than a God they thought there could not

dwell

Within the hollow of that shell,

That spoke so sweetly and so well.

What passion cannot Music raise and quell?

III.

The trumpet's loud clangor

Excites us to arms,

25

With shrill notes of anger,

And mortal alarms.

The double double double beat

Of the thundering drum

Cries, hark! the foes come;

Charge, Charge, 'tis too late to retreat.

IV.

The soft complaining flute

In dying notes discovers

The woes of hopeless lovers,

Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.

30

35

V.

Sharp violins proclaim

Their jealous pangs, and desperation,

Fury, frantic indignation,

Depth of pains, and height of passion,

For the fair, disdainful dame.

VI.

But oh! what art can teach,

What human voice can reach,

40

V. 37. Sharp violins] It is a judicious remark of Mr. Mason, that Dryden with propriety gives this epithet to the instrument; because, in the poet's time, they could not have arrived at that delicacy of tone, even in the hands of the best masters, which they now have in those of an inferior kind. See Essays on English Church Music, by the Rev. W. Mason, M.A., Precentor of York, 12mo. 1795, p. 218. T.

The sacred organ's praise?
Notes inspiring holy love,

Notes that wing their heavenly ways

To mend the choirs above.

45

Orpheus could lead the savage race;
And trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the lyre

But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:
When to her organ vocal breath was given,
An angel heard, and straight appear'd

Mistaking earth for heaven.

GRAND CHORUS.

As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the bless'd above;

So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.

50

55

60

SONG. FAREWELL, FAIR ARMIDA.*

FAREWELL, fair Armida, my joy and my grief,
In vain I have lov'd you, and hope no relief;
Undone by your virtue, too strict and severe,
Your eyes gave me love, and you gave me despair;
Now call'd by my honour, I seek with content
The fate which in pity you would not prevent:
To languish in love, were to find by delay
A death that's more welcome the speediest way.

5

10

On seas and in battles, in bullets and fire,
The danger is less than in hopeless desire;
My death's wound you give, though far off I bear
My fall from your sight

not to cost you a tear:

* This song, written on the death of Captain Digby, has been given by Mr. Malone in his Life of Dryden, on account. he says, of its 'not having been preserved in Dryden's works, and being found entire only in a scarce Miscellany, viz. Covent Garden Drollery.' I must, however, observe, that the song is printed entire in New Court Songs and Poems, by R. V. Gent. 8vo. 1672, p. 78. In this collection the second line runs thus:

'In vain I have lov'd you, and find no relief.'

The sixth,

'A fate which in pity,' &c.

The twelfth,

'My fate from your sight,' &c.

An answer from Armida, as she is called, follows the Song in this collection; but it is not worth citing. The ridiculous parody on this Song in the Rehearsal is too well known to

But if the kind flood on a wave should convey, And under your window my body should lay, The wound on my breast when you happen to see, You'll say with a sigh —it was given by me.

THE LADY'S SONG.

A CHOIR of bright beauties in spring did appear, To choose a May-lady to govern the year;

All the nymphs were in white, and the shepherds

in green;

The garland was given, and Phyllis was queen:
But Phyllis refus'd it, and sighing did say,
I'll not wear a garland while Pan is away.

5

require copying here. But the following ludicrous stanza, which I have seen in MS. and which is a coeval parody on Dryden's Song to Armida, deserves to be cited:

'Or if the king please that I may, at his charge,
Just under your window be brought in a barge;
Nay, 'twill be enough, as I died a brave fighter,
If but to your window I come in a lighter;
Or, rather than faile to shew my love fuller,
I would be content to arrive in a sculler;
But if me these favours my fate hath deny'd,

I hope to come floating up with the spring tyde.' Armida is said to have been the beautiful Frances Stuart, wife of Charles, Duke of Richmond. Captain Digby was killed at sea in the engagement between the English and the Dutch fleet, off Southwold Bay, in 1672. T.