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ESCEND, ye Nine! descend and fing;
The breathing inftruments infpire,
Wake into voice each filent ftring,.
And sweep the founding lyre!
In a fadly pleafing strain
Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet found,
"Till the roofs all around
The fhrill echoes rebound:
While in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
The deep, majestic, folemn organs blow.
Hark! the numbers foft and clear
Gently fteal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rife,
And fill with fpreading founds the skies;
Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats ;.
'Till, by degrees, remote and small,.
The strains decay,
And melt away,
In a dying, dying fall.
By Mufic, 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 fhe fires with animated founds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;
Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus roufes 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 music ev'ry bosom warms!
So when the firft bold veffel dar'd the feas,
High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his strain,
While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew
heroes at the found,
Enflam'd with glory's charms:
Each chief his fev'nfold fhield display'd,
And half unfheath'd the shining blade:
And feas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms, to arms, to arms!
But when thro' all th' infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds,
Love, ftrong as Death, the Poets led
To the pale nations of the dead,
What founds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,
By the streams 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,
And cries of tortur'd ghofts!
But hark! he ftrikes the golden lyre;
And fee! the tortur'd ghofts refpire.
See, fhady forms advance!
Thy stone, O Sifyphus, ftands ftill,
Ixion rests upon his wheel,
And the pale spectres dance!
The Furies fink upon their iron beds,
And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads.
Or Amaranthine bow'rs;
By the hero's armed shades,
Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades;
By the youths that dy'd for love,
Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,
Reftore, restore Eurydice to life:
Oh take the husband, or return the wife!
He fung, and hell confented
To hear the Poet's prayer;
Stern Proferpine relented,
And gave him back the fair.