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Congreve.

O footh her Cares

With softest, sweetest Airs,
'Till Victory and Peace restore
Her faithful Lover to her tender Breast,

Within her folding Arms to rest,
Thence never to be parted more,
No never to be parted more.

CHORUS

Let Victory and Peace restore
Her faith ful Lover to her tender Breast,

Within her folding Arms to rest,
Thence never to be parted more,
No never to be parted more,

VIII.

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Enough, Urania, heav'nly Fair!
Now to thy native Skies repair,
And rule again the starry Sphere;
Cecilia comes, with holy Rapture fill'd,

To ease the World of Care.
Cecilia ,, more than all the Muses skilld!

Phoebus himself to her mult yield,

And at her Feet lay down
His golden Harp and laurel Crown.

The loft enervate Lyre is drown'd
In the deep Organ's more majestick Sound.
In Peals the swelling Notes ascend the Skies;
Perpetual Breath the swelling Notes lupplies,

And lasting as her Name,

Who form'd the tuneful Frame,
Th' immortal Musick never dies.

GRAND CHORUS.

Cecilia, more than all the Muses skill'd,

Phoebus himself to her must yield,

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And

Congreve.

And at her Feet lay down
His golden Harp and laurel Crown,

The loft enervate Lyre is drown'd
In the deep Organ's more majestick Sound.
In Peals the (welling Notes ascend the skies;
Perpetual Breath the lwelling Notes lupplies,

And lasting as her Name,
Who form'd the tuneful Frame,
Th’immortal Musick never dies.

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D r y d e n.

Dryben.

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Seine, gleichfalls für den Cäcilientag bestimmte, mufts talische Ode, Alexander's Feast, ist eins der herrlichsten Meis fterftücke der neuern Poesie; reich an zaubervoller Mannichs faltigkeit der Bilder und Beschreibungen, an Schönheit und Wohlklang des Ausdrucks, und am wirkungsvollsten Wechs fel der Empfindung. Schon im J. 1687 (chrieb er' auf eben diere Beranlassung eine kurzere Obe auf die Harmonie, die gleichfalls sehr schöne Stellen hat. Gar sehr aber übertraf er fich felbft, und alle seine Vorgänger und Nachfolger, in gegenwärtiger Ode, die Dope in seinem Ejay on Criticism sehr treffend charakterisirt:

Hear, how Timotheus' vary'd lays surprise,
And bid alternate passions fall and rise !
While at each change the son of Libyan Jovę
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love:
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
Now lighs steal out, and tears begin to flow.
Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
And the world's victor stood subdu'd by found.
The pow'r of music all our hearts allow,

And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
Uebrigens weiß man, pak håndel, im J. 1735, dieß Meis
fterstück in eben so meisterhafte Musik rekte; und daß wir es
Hrn. Karnler zu verdanken haben, der eiren deutschen Text,
mit Grun dlage der Weißischen Uebersekung, zu dieser soms
position einrichtete, daß diese lettre auch in Deutschland
bekannter geworden, und mehrmals von Sennern bewundert
ift.

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Dryden. Aloft in awful state

The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne :
His valiant peers were plac'd around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound,
(So should desert in arms be crownd).
The lovely Thais by his side
Sate like a blooming Eastern bride,
In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.

CHORUS

» Happy, happy, happy pair!
„None but the brave,
None but the brave,
, None but the brave deserves the fair."

II.

Timotheus, plac'd on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;
The trembling notes afcend the sky,
And heav'nly joys in fpire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above,
(Such is the pow'r of mighty love)
A dragon's fiery forån bely'd the god;
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia prest,
And while he fought her snowy breast;
Then round her slender waist he curid,
And ftamp'd an image of himself a sov'reign of the

world.
The list'ning crowd admire the lofty found;
A prefent Deity! they shoot around;
A present Deity! the vaulted roofs rebound.

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The praile of Bacchus then the sweet musician

lung;
Of Bacchus, ever fair and ever young:
The jolly god in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums:
Flush'd with a purple grace,
He shews 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.

CHORUS.

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure; , Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: ,Rich the treasure, „Sweet the pleasure; „Sweet is pleasure after pain.“

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IV.

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