So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.

IV.

THE

TEARS OF AMYNTA, FOR THE DEATH OF DAMON. A SONG.

Ox a bank, beside a willow,

Heaven her covering, earth her pillow, Sad Amynta sigh'd alone:

From the cheerless dawn of morning

Till the dews of night returning,

Sighing thus she made her moan:
"Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanish'd,

Damon, my belov'd, is gone!

"Time, I dare thee to discover
Such a youth, and such a lover;
Oh! so true, so kind was he!
Damon was the pride of Nature,
Charming in his every feature;
Damon liv'd alone for me;

, Melting kisses,
Murmuring blisses:

Who so liv'd and lov'd as we!

"Never shall we curse the morning,
Never bless the night returning,
Sweet embraces to restore:
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, Love supplying

All the joys he drain'd before:
Death, come end me

To befriend me;

Love and Damon are no more."

"By their praying and whining,

And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,

And sighing and kissing so close."

Cupid in shape of a swain did appear,

He saw the sad wound, and in pity drew near; Then show'd her his arrow, and bid her not fear; For the pain was no more than a maiden may bear: When the balm was infus'd, she was not at a loss, What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so By their praying and whining, [close; And clasping and twining,

And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,

And sighing and kissing so close.

VI.

THE LADY'S SONG.

A CHOIR of bright beauties in spring did appear,
To choose a May lady to govern the year;
All the nymphs were in white, and the shepherds in

green;

The garland was given, and Phyllis was queen:
But Phyllis refus'd it, and sighing did say,
I'll not wear a garland while Pan is away.

While Pan, and fair Syrinx, are fled from our shore,
The Graces are banish'd, and Love is no more:
The soft god of pleasure, that warm'd our desires,
Has broken his bow, and extinguish'd his fires:
And vows that himself, and his mother, will mourn,
Till Pan and fair Syrinx in triumph return.

Forbear your addresses, and court us no more;
For we will perform what the deity swore :
But if you dare think of deserving our charms,
Away with your sheephooks, and take to your arms:
Then laurels and myrtles your brows shall adorn
When Pan, and his son, and fair Syrinx, return.

V.

A SONG.

SYLVIA the fair, in the bloom of fifteen,
Felt an innocent warmth, as she lay on the green:
She had heard of a pleasure, and something she
.guest
[breast:

By the towzing, and tumbling, and touching her
She saw the men eager, but was at a loss,
What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so

close;

By their praying and whining, And clasping and twining,

And panting and wishing,

And sighing and kissing,

And sighing and kissing so close.

"Ah!" she cry'd; "ah! for a languishing maid, In a country of Christians, to die without aid! Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least, Or a Protestant parson, or Catholic priest, T' instruct a young virgin, that is at a loss, What they meant by their sighing, and kissing so close!

VII.

A SONG.

FAIR, sweet, and young, receive a prize
Reserv'd for your victorious eyes:
From crowds, whom at your feet you see,
O pity, and distinguish me!

As I from thousand beauties more
Distinguish you, and only you adore.
Your face for conquest was design'd,
Your every motion charms my mind;
Angels, when you your silence break,
Forget their hymns, to hear you speak;
But when at once they hear and view,
Are loth to mount, and long to stay with you.

No graces can your form improve,
But all are lost, unless you love;
While that sweet passion you disdain,
Your veil and beauty are in vain :
In pity then prevent my fate,
For after dying all reprieve's too late.

VIII.

A SONG.

HIGH state and honours to others impart,
But give me your heart:

That treasure, that treasure alone,
I beg for my own.

So gentle a love, so fervent a fire,
My soul does inspire;
That treasure, that treasure alone,
I beg for my own.
Your love let me crave;
Give me in possessing

So matchless a blessing;

That empire is all I would have.
Love's my petition,
All my ambition;
If e'er you discover
So faithful a lover,
So real a flame,
I'll die, I'll die.

So give up my game.

IX.

RONDELAY.

CHLOE found Amyntas lying,
All in tears upon the plain;
Sighing to himself, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain!
Kiss me, dear, before my dying;
Kiss me once, and ease my pain!

Sighing to himself, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain!
Ever scorning and denying

To reward your faithful swain: Kiss me, dear, before my dying; Kiss me once, and ease my pain!

Ever scorning, and denying

To reward your faithful swain. Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain : Kiss me, dear, before my dying; Kiss me once, and ease my pain!

Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain : But, repenting, and complying, When he kiss'd, she kiss'd again: Kiss'd him up before his dying; Kiss'd him up, and eas'd his pain.

X.

A SONG

Go tell Amynta, gentle swain,

I would not die, nor dare complain :
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To souls oppress'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain this kind relief;
That music should in sounds convey,
What dying lovers dare not say.
VOL. VIII.

A sigh or tear, perhaps, she'll give,

But love on pity cannot live.

Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid.

Tell her my pains so fast increase,
That soon they will be past redress;
But ah! the wretch, that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

XI.

A SONG

TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY, GOING OUT OF THE TOWN IN THE SPRING.

Ask not the cause, why sullen Spring
So long delays her flowers to bear;
Thy warbling birds forget to sing,

And winter storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone, and Fate provides
To make it Spring, where she resides.

Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;

She cast not back a pitying eye:
But left her lover in despair,

To sigh, to languish, and to die:
Ah, how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure!

Great god of love, why hast thou made

A face that can all hearts command, That all religions can invade,

And change the laws of every land? Where thou hadst plac'd such power before, Thou shouldst have made her mercy more.

When Chloris to the temple comes,

Adoring crowds before her fall; She can restore the dead from tombs, And every life but mine recal.

I only am by Love design'd

To be the victim for mankind.

XII SONG,

FROM MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE 1.

WHY should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,
When passion is decay'd?

We lov'd, and we lov'd, as long as we could,
Till our love was lov'd out of us both;
But our marriage is dead,when the pleasures are fled;
'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

If I have pleasures for a friend,

And further love in store,

What wrong has he, whose joys did end,
And who could give no more?

There are several excellent songs in his King Arthur, which should have been copied, but that they are so interwoven with the story of the drama that it would be improper to separate them. There is also a song in Love in a Nunnery; and another in The Duke of Guise; but neither of them worth transcribing. N.

Rr

'Tis a madness that he

Should be jealous of me,

Or that I should bar him of another: For all we can gain

Is to give ourselves pain, When neither can hinder the other.

XIII. SONG,

FROM TYRANNIC LOVE.

Ан, how sweet it is to love!
Ah, how gay is young Desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach Love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
E'en the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.

Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:

For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein :
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again:
If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

XIV.

ALEXANDER'S FEAST:

OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.

AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

"TWAS at the royal feast for Persia won

By Philip's warlike son:

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 crown'd)

The lovely Thais, by his side,
Sate, like a blooming eastern bride,
In flower 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.

Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of Chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole ; And tears began to flow.

CHORUS.

Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of Chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole ; And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smil'd, to see
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying;

If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying:
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee. The many rend the skies with loud applause; So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:

At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy,

JANUS.

XIII.

THE SECULAR MASQUE.

Enter JANUS.

CHRONOS, Chronos, mend thy pace,
An hundred times the rolling Sun
Around the radiant belt has run

In his revolving race.

Behold, behold the goal in sight,

Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight.

Enter CHRONOS with a scythe in his hand, and a globe on his back; which he sets down at his entrance. CHRONOS. Weary, weary of my weight,

Let me, let me drop my freight,
And leave the world behind.

I could not bear,

Another year,

The load of human-kind.

Enter Moмus laughing.

MOMUS. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well hast thou

done

To lay down thy pack,

And lighten thy back,

The world was a fool, e'er since it begun,

SONG OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS,

WHO BEING CROSSED BY THEIR FRIENDS, FELL MAD FOR ONE ANOTHER; AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM. [Music within.]

The lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a keeper.

PHYLLIS. LOOK, look, I see-I see my love appear! 'Tis he-Tis he alone;

For, like him, there is none:

'Tis the dear, dear man, 'tis thee, dear. AMYNTAS. Hark, the winds war;

The foamy waves roar;

I see a ship afar:

Tossing and tossing, and making to the

But what 's that I view,

So radiant of hue,

[shore:

St. Hermo, St. Hermo, that sits upon the

[sails?

Ah! No, no, no. St. Hermo, never, never shone so bright; "Tis Phyllis, only Phyllis, can shoot so fair a light:

"Tis Phyllis, 'tis Phyllis, that saves the ship alone,

For all the winds are hush'd, and the storm

is overblown.