THE ORIGIN OB SONG WRITING.* Illic indocto primun se exercuit arcu; TIBUL WHEN Cupid, wanton boy, was young, And hid his bow in wreaths of flowers; * Addressed to the Author of Essays on Song-Writing. With now and then a random dart, Would point him out some nobler game, She seiz'd the boy's reluctant hand, The potent sounds like lightening dart Resistless thro' the glowing heart; Of power to lift the fixed soul High o'er fortune's proud controul; Kindling deep, prophetic musing; Love of beauteous death infusing; Scorn, and unconquerable hate Of tyrant pride's unhallow'd state. Mars stood by with threat'ning air; With sudden chill his bosom struck. Daughters of Jove, receive the child, The queen of beauty said, and smil'd; (Her rosy breath perfum'd the air, And scatter'd sweet contagion there; Relenting nature learn'd to languish, And sicken'd with delightful anguish :) Receive him, artless yet and young ; Refine his air and smooth his tongue: Conduct him thro' your fav'rite bowers, Enrich'd with fair perennial flowers To solemn shades, and springs that lie Remote from each unhallow'd eye; Teach him to spell those mystic names That kindle bright immortal flames; And guide his young unpractis'd feet To reach coy learning's lofty seat. Ah, luckless hour! mistaken maids, Now of power his darts are found The garland blest with many a vow, For haughty Sacharissa's brow; And, wash'd with tears, the mournful verse That Petrarch laid on Laura's herse. But more than all the sister quire, Music confess'd the pleasing fire. Music and song were all his own. Sweet, as in old Arcadian plains, The British pipe has caught the strains : Or Thames his oozy waters leads 'Tis yours to cull with happy art Each meaning verse that speaks the heart; And fair array'd, in order meet, To lay the wreath at beauty's feet. |