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While in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
The deep, majeftic, folemn organs blow.
Hark! the numbers soft and clear

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rife

And fill with spreading founds the skies; 15 Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; "Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The ftrains decay,

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.


By Music, minds an equal temper know,
Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low.
If in the breaft tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, affuafive voice applies;




nautic expedition, where Orpheus gives the example of the use of Mufic to infpire the heroic paffions. The feventh and last conclude in praise of Mufic, and the advantages of the facred above the prophane.

VER. 7. Let the loud trumpet found, etc.] Our Author in his rules for good writing had faid, that the found fhould be an echo to the fenfe. The graces it adds to the harmony are obvious. But we fhould never have feen all the advantages arifing from this rule, had this ode not been written. In which, one may venture to fay, is found all the harmony that poetic found, when it comes in aid of fenfe, is capable of producing.

Or, when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.

Warriors fhe fires with animated founds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
Melancholy lifts her head,

Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,

Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes; Intestine war no more our Paffions wage, And giddy Factions hear

away their rage.




But when our Country's caufe provokes to Arms, How martial mufic ev'ry bofom warms!


So when the first bold veffel dar'd the feas,
High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his ftrain,
While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main.
Tranfported demi-gods ftood round,
And men grew heroes at the found,
Enflam'd with glory's charms:
Each chief his fev'nfold fhield difplay'd,
And half unsheath'd the fhining blade:
And feas, and rocks, and fkies rebound



But when thro' all th' infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds,

Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led
To the pale nations of the dead,
What founds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,

O'er all the dreary coafts!
Dreadful gleams,

Dismal fcreams,

Fires that glow,

Shrieks of woe,

Sullen moans,

Hollow groans
And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
But hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
And fee! the tortur'd ghofts refpire,

See, fhady forms advance!
Thy stone, O Sifyphus, ftands ftill,
Ixion refts upon his wheel,





And the pale spectres dance!
their iron beds,


The Furies fink
And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their


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By the ftreams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow
O'er th' Elyfian flow'rs;

By thofe happy fouls who dwell
In yellow meads of Afphodel,

Or Amaranthine bow'rs;
By the hero's armed fhades,
Glitt❜ring thro' the gloomy glades;
By the youths that dy'd for love,
Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,
Restore, restore Eurydice to life:
Oh take the husband, or return the wife!

He fung, and hell confented


To hear the Poet's
Stern Proferpine relented,
And gave
Thus fong could prevail

him back the fair.

O'er death, and o'er hell,

A conqueft how hard and how glorious?
Tho' fate had faft bound her

With Styx nine times round her,







But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes:
Again fhe falls, again fhe dies, fhe dies!

How wilt thou now the fatal fifters move?

No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. 95
Now under hanging mountains,

Befide the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in Mæanders,
All alone,

Unheard, unknown,
He makes his moan;
And calls her ghost,
For ever, ever, ever loft!
Now with Furies furrounded,
Defpairing, confounded,


Ah fee, he dies! Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he fung, Eurydice ftill trembled on his tongue,


He trembles, he glows,

Amidst Rhodope's fnows:

See, wild as the winds, o'er the defert he flies; Hark! Hamus refounds with the Bacchanals cries-


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