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ODE for MUSIC
ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
DThe breathing inftruments infpire,
ESCEND, ye Nine! defcend and fing;
Wake into voice each filent ftring,.
In a fadly pleafing ftrain
Let the warbling lute complain :
"Till the roofs all around
The fhrill echoes rebound:
While in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
Now louder, and yet louder rife,
And fill with spreading founds the fkies;
'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,
Or, when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
But when our Country's caufe provokes to Arms,
Love, ftrong as Death, the Poets led
By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow
Or Amaranthine bow'rs;
But hark! he ftrikes the golden lyre;
And fee! the tortur'd ghofts refpire.
And the pale spectres dance!
The Furies fink upon their iron beds,
And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads.
He fung, and hell confented
To hear the Poet's prayer;
Stern Proferpine relented,