For several ends to serve the same design; The best, (and of the princes some were such,) Who thought the power of monarchy too much; Mistaken men and patriots in their hearts, Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts; By these the springs of property were bent And wound so high they cracked the government. The next for interest sought to embroil the state To sell their duty at a dearer rate, And make their Jewish markets of the throne, Pretending public good to serve their own. Others thought kings an useless heavy load, Who cost too much and did too little good. These were for laying honest David by On principles of pure good husbandry. With them joined all the haranguers of the throng That thought to get preferment by the tongue. Who follow next a double danger bring, Not only hating David, but the King; The Solymaean rout, well versed of old In godly faction and in treason bold, Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword, But lofty to a lawful prince restored, Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun And scorned by Jebusites to be outdone. Hot Levites headed these; who, pulled before From the ark which in the Judges' days they bore, Resumed their cant, and with a zealous cry Pursued their old beloved theocracy, Where Sanhedrin and priest enslaved the nation, And justified their spoils by inspiration; For who so fit for reign as Aaron's race, If once dominion they could found in grace? These led the pack; though not of surest scent, Yet deepest mouthed against the govern ment. A numerous host of dreaming saints succeed Of the true old enthusiastic breed: 'Gainst form and order they their power employ, Nothing to build and all things to destroy. But far more numerous was the herd of such Who think too little and who talk too much. These out of mere instinct, they knew not why, Adored their fathers' God and property, And by the same blind benefit of Fate The Devil and the Jebusite did hate: Born to be saved even in their own despite, Because they could not help believing right. Such were the tools; but a whole Hydra more Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. Some of their chiefs were princes of the land; In the first rank of these did Zimri stand, But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman, who could every hour employ With something new to wish or to enjoy! Railing and praising were his usual themes, And both, to show his judgment, in ex tremes: So over violent or over civil That every man with him was God or Devil. In squandering wealth was his peculiar art; Nothing went unrewarded but desert. Beggared by fools whom still he found too late, He had his jest, and they had his estate. He laughed himself from Court; then sought relief By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief: For spite of him, the weight of business. fell On Absalom and wise Achitophel; Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft, He left not faction, but of that was left. A Song for St. Cecilia's Day FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony. And Music's power obey. What passion cannot Music raise and quell! When Jubal struck the chorded shell His listening brethren stood around, And, wondering, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound. Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell! The trumpet's loud clangor And mortal alarms. The soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depth of pains, and height of passion For the fair disdainful dame. But oh! what art can teach, The sacred organ's praise? Orpheus could lead the savage race, But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher: When to her Organ vocal breath was given An Angel heard, and straight appear'dMistaking earth for heaven. GRAND CHORUS As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move, A dragon's fiery form belied the god: Sublime on radiant spires he rode, When he to fair Olympia press'd; And while he sought her snowy breast: Then, round her slender waist he curl'd, And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, "A present deity," they shout around; "A present deity," the vaulted roofs rebound: With ravished ears And seems to shake the spheres. CHORUS: With ravished ears, etc. III The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, 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 shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Bacchus, ever fair and young, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. CHORUS: Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, etc. IV Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise, He chose a mournful Muse, He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate, Fallen from his high estate, With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, Revolving in his alter'd soul The various turns of chance be- And, now and then, a sigh he stole, CHORUS: Revolving in his alter'd soul, etc. The mighty master smiled to see Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he soothed 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, Gazed on the fair Who caused 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. CHORUS: The prince, unable to conceal his pain, etc. VI Now strike the golden lyre again; Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head; As awaked from the dead, And, amazed, he stares around. "Revenge, revenge!" Timotheus cries; "See the Furies arise; See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, And unburied remain To the valiant crew. Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes, And glittering temples of their hostile gods." The princes applaud with a furious joy; And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; BUT never was a fight managed so hardily, and in such a surprising manner, as that which followed between Friday and the bear, which gave us all, though at first we were surprised and afraid for him, the greatest diversion imaginable. As the bear is a heavy, clumsy creature, and does not gallop as the wolf does, who is swift and light, so he has two particular qualities, which generally are the rule of his actions: first, as to men, who are not his proper prey; I say, not his proper prey, because, though I cannot say what excessive hunger might do, which was now their case, the ground being all covered with snow; but as to men, he does not usually attempt them, unless they first attack him. On the contrary, if you meet him in the woods, if you don't meddle with him, he won't meddle with you; but then you must take care to be very civil to him, and give him the road, for he is a very nice gentleman. He won't go a step out of his way for a prince; nay, if you are really afraid, your best way is to look another way, and keep going on, for sometimes if you stop; |