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HE. O ye gods, let me suffer for both;

At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie :
I'll resign up my breath,
And take pleasure in death,

To be pitied by her when I die.

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SHE. What her honour denied you

in life,
In her death she will give to your love.
Such a flame as is true
After fate will renew,

For the souls to meet closer above. 30

SONG OF THE SEA-FIGHT, IN AMBOYNA.

Who ever saw a noble sight,
That never view'd a brave sea-fight!
Hang up your bloody colours in the air,
Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare ;
Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,
Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
St. George, St. George, we cry,
The shouting Turks reply.
Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
Ply it with culverin and with small shot;
Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar,
The neighbouring billows are turn’d into gore;
Now each man must resolve to die,
For here the coward cannot fly.

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Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
And culverins the passing bell.
Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
Blow up the hatches, they ’re off all again:
Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,
She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!

INCANTATION IN EDIPUS.

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TIR. CHOOSE the darkest part o'th' grove,
Such as ghosts at noonday love.
Dig a trench, and dig it nigh
Where the bones of Laius lie;
Altars rais’d, of turf or stone,
Will th' infernal powers have none,
Answer

me,

if this be done?
ALL PR. 'Tis done.

TIR. Is the sacrifice made fit?
Draw her backward to the pit:
Draw the barren heifer back;
Barren let her be, and black.
Cut the curl'd hair that grows
Full betwixt her horns and brows:

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And turn your faces from the sun,
Answer

me,

if this be done? ALL PR. 'Tis done.

TIR. Pour in blood, and blood-like wine,
To Mother Earth and Proserpine:
Mingle milk into the stream;
Feast the ghosts that love the steam:
Snatch a brand from funeral pile:
Toss it in, to make them boil;
And turn your faces from the sun,
Answer me, if this be done?

ALL PR. 'Tis done.

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SONGS IN ALBION AND ALBANIUS.

I.

CEASE, Augusta! cease thy mourning,

Happy days appear,
Godlike Albion is returning,

Loyal hearts to cheer!
Every grace his youth adorning,
Glorious as the star of morning,

Or the planet of the year.

II.

ALBION, by the nymph attended,
Was to Neptune recommended,

Peace and plenty spread the sails ;
Venus, in her shell before him,

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From the sands in safety bore him,

And supplied Etesian gales. Archon on the shore commanding, Lowly met him at his landing,

Crowds of people swarm’d around; Welcome, rang like peals of thunder, Welcome, rent the skies asunder,

Welcome, heaven and earth resound.

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III.

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INFERNAL offspring of the Night,
Debarr’d of heaven your native right,
And from the glorious fields of light,
Condemn’d in shades to drag the chain,
And fill with groans the gloomy plain;
Since pleasures here are none below,
Be ill our good, our joy be woe;
Our work t embroil the worlds above,
Disturb their union, disunite their love,
And blast the beauteous frame of our victorious foe.

IV.

SEE the god of seas attends thee,
Nymphs divine, a beauteous train:
All the calmer gales befriend thee
In thy passage o'er the main :
Every maid her locks is binding,
Every Triton's horn is winding,
Welcome to the watery plain.

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V.

ALBION, lov'd of gods and men,
Prince of Peace too mildly reigning,
Cease thy sorrow and complaining,
Thou shalt be restor'd again :
Albion, lov’d of gods and men.

Still thou art the care of heaven,
In thy youth to exile driven:
Heaven thy ruin then prevented,
Till the guilty land repented:
In thy age, when none could aid thee,
Foes conspir’d, and friends betray'd thee.
To the brink of danger driven,
Still thou art the care of heaven.

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SONGS IN KING ARTHUR.

I.

Where a battle is supposed to be given behind the scenes,

with drums, trumpets, and military shouts and excursions; after which, the Britons, expressing their joy for the victory, sing this song of triumph.

COME, if you dare, our trumpets sound;
Come, if you dare, the foes rebound:
We come, we come, we come, we come,
Says the double, double, double beat of the thun-

dering drum.

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