Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats;
Till, by degrees, remote and fmall,
The ftrains decay,

And melt away

In a dying, dying fall.

II.

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

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

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

Morpheus roufes from his bed,

Sloth unfold his arms and wakes,
Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes:

Inteftine war no more our paffions wage;
And giddy factions hear away their rage,

III.

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.
Transported demi-gods ftood round,
And men grew heroes to the found,
Inflam'd with glory's charms:

Each chief his fev'nfold fhield display'd,
And half unfheath'd the fhining blade:
And feas, and rocks, and fkies, rebound:
To arms! to arms! to arms!

Pope.

But when through 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,
Difmal 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 ghosts refpire,
See, fhady forms advance!

Thy ftone, o Sifyphus, ftands ftill,
Ixion refts upon his wheel,

And the pale fpectres dance!

The furies fink upon their iron beds,

And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their

heads.

V..

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 amarantine bow'rs;

By the hero's armed fhades,

Glitt'ring through the gloomy glades;
By the youths that died for love,
Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,
Reftore, restore Eurydice to life;
O take the husband, or return the wife!

He

He fung, and hell.confented
To hear the poet's pray'r
Sterne Proferpine relented,

And gave him back the fair.
Thus fong could prevail
O'er death, and o'er hell;

A conqueft how hard and how glorious!
Though fate had faft bound her,
With Styx nine times round her,
Yet Mufic and Love were victorious.

VI.

But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes;
Again fhe falls, again fhe dies, the dies!
How wilt thou now the fatal fifters move?
No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
Now under hanging mountains,

Befide the fall of fountains,

Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in meanders,
All alone,

Unheard, unknown,
He makes his moan;
And calls her ghoft,
For ever, ever loft!
Now with furies furrounded,
Defpairing, confounded,
He trembles, he glows,
Amidft Rhodope's fnows:

See, wild as winds, o'er the defert hé flies;
Hark! Haemus refounds with the Bacchanal's cries.
Ah! fee, he dies!

Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he fung,
Eurydice ftill trembles on his tongue;

Eurydice the woods,

Eurydice the floods,

Eurydice, the rocks, and hollow mountains

rung.

Pope.

Mufic the fierceft grief can charm,
And fate's fevereft rage difarm:
Mufic can soften pain to ease,

And make despair and madness please.
Our joys below it can improve, A
And antedate the blifs above.

This the divine Cecilia found,

And to her Maker's praife confin'd the found.
When the full organ joins the tuneful quire,
Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear;
Borne on the fwelling notes our fouls afpire,
While folemn airs improve the facred fire;
And angels lean from heav'n to hear.
Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv'n;
His numbers rais'd a fhade from hell;
Hers lift the foul to heav'n.

von Gerstenberg.

Noch hatte ich keine Gelegenheit, dieses trefflichen, noch lebenden Dichters (geb. 1737.) zu gedenken, der die stärkste leidenschaftlichste Darstellung eben so sehr, als die leichte fte und gefälligste Anmuth der Poesie, in seiner Ges walt hat. Die folgende schöne Kantate von ihm erschien zuerst mit des selig. Kapellm. Scheibens, ihrer nicht gang würdigen, Komposition, im J. 1767. Sie ist hernach mehrmals, und, so viel ich weiß, zulegt im Theaterjournal, mit einigen Veränderungen, abgedruckt. Diesen Abdruck aber habe ich nicht gleich zur Hand.- Bei dieser Gelegenheit kann ich nicht umhin, des herrlichen, an Schönheiten der Erzählung, Schilderung, Empfindung und Versifikation so reichen, Gedichts, Ariadne, von dem jängern Hrn. Schles gel, bei dieser Gelegenheit zn gedenken, welches im ersten Stücke von Hrn. Bürger's Akademie der schönen Redes künfte befindlich ist. Wer es noch nicht kennt, verdankt mirs gewiß, ihn darauf hingewiesen zu haben.

Ariadne auf Naxos.

von Gerstenberg.

Ariadne

(erwachend)

Set mir gegrüsst auf Naxos Höhn,
Aurorens güldner Wagen!

Sei mir gegrüsst! Seit drei vergnügten Tagen
Hat deine Göttin mich in Theseus Arm gesehn!
Erröthend sah sie mich; und nie so schön,
Aurora, nie so schön

Hab ich Erröthende dein Antlig glühen sehn!
Sei mir gegrüfft auf Naxos Höhn,

Aurorens güldner Wagen!

Zwar hier, mein Theseus, glänzt kein stiller Sommers