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A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia pressed,

And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound:

A present deity! they shout around;

A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound.—
With ravished ears

The monarch hears;
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung;
Of Bacchus, ever fair, and ever young.

The jolly god in triumph comes!
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums.
Flushed 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' blessings are a treasure ;

Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.

Rich the treasure;

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And, while he heaven and earth defied,

Changed his hand, and checked his pride.

He chose a mournful muse

Soft pity to infuse.

He sung Darius, great and good,

By too severe a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood. Deserted in 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 altered soul,

The various turns of fate below;

And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smiled, 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 soothed 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, oh! think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais sits beside thee;

The

Take the good the gods provide thee.— many rend the skies with loud applause: So love was crowned, but music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,
Sighed and looked, and sighed again :

At length, with love and wine at once oppressed,
The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast.

Now, strike the golden lyre again;

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain: Break his bands of sleep asunder,

And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark! hark!-the horrid sound

Has raised up his head,

As awaked from the dead;

And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge! Timotheus criesSee the furies arise!

See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,

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, unburied, remain

Inglorious on the plain.

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 seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy:
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey;

And, like another Helen-fired another Troy.

Thus long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learned 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
Enlarged 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 raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

DRYDEN.

17.-SPEECH OF ROLLA.

My brave associates-partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame! Can Rolla's words add vigour to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts?—No;-you have judged as I have, the foulness of the

-we serve

crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours.-They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule;—we, for our country, our altars, and our homes.-They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate;— a monarch whom we love,—a God whom we adore.—Whene'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress!-Whene'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship.-They boast, they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error!-Yes-they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection.-Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs-covering and devouring them.—They call on us to barter all of good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better which they promise.—Be our plain answer this: The throne we honour is the people's choice ;— the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' legacy;-the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss beyond the grave.--Tell your invaders this, and tell them too, we seek no change; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us. SHERIDAN'S Pizarro.

18.-VIRGINIUS APPEALING TO HIS FELLOW-CITIZENS TO RESCUE HIS DAUGHTER FROM THE HANDS OF APPIUS.

Is this the daughter of a slave? I know
'Tis not with men as shrubs and trees, that by
The shoot you know the rank and order of
The stem. Yet who from such a stem would look
For such a shoot. My witnesses are these-
The relatives and friends of Numitoria,
Who saw her, ere Virginia's birth, sustain
The burden which a mother bears, nor feels
The weight, with longing for the sight of it.
Here are the ears that listened to her sighs
In nature's hour of labour, which subsides
In the embrace of joy-the hands, that when
The day first looked upon the infant's face,
And never looked so pleased, helped them up to it,
And blessed her for a blessing. Here the eyes

That saw her lying at the generous
And sympathetic fount, that, at her cry,
Sent forth a stream of liquid living pearl
To cherish her enamelled veins. The lie
Is most unfruitful then, that takes the flower-
The very flower our bed connubial grew—
To prove its barrenness! Fellow-citizens
Look not on Claudius, look on your Decemvir!
He is the master claims Virginia!

The tongues that told him she was not my child
Are these the costly charms he cannot purchase,
Except by making her the slave of Claudius.

Look upon her, Romans!

Befriend her! succour her! see her not polluted
Before her father's eyes!-He is but one;
Tear her from Appius and his Lictors, while

She is unstained! your hands! your hands! your hands.

SHERIDAN KNOWLES.

19. CLARENCE'S DREAM.

METHOUGHT that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy;
And in my company my brother Gloster:
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches; thence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster

That had befallen us. As we paced along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
O then methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea.

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