Thus fong could prevail

O'er death, and o'er hell,

A conqueft how hard and how glorious?
Tho' 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 the falls, again fhe dies, fhe dies!
How wilt thou now the fatal fisters move?

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No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
Now under hanging mountains,

Befide the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,

Rolling in Mæanders,

All alone,

Unheard, unknown,
He makes his moan;
And calls her ghost,
For ever, ever, ever loft!
Now with Furies furrounded,
Defpairing, confounded,
He trembles, he glows,

Amidst Rhodope's fnows:

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See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies; 110 Hark! Hæmus refounds with the Bacchanals cries

Ah fee, he dies!

Yet ev'n in death. Eurydice he fung,

Eurydice ftill trembled on his tongue,

Eurydice the woods,

Eurydice the floods,

Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.

VII.

Mufic the fierceft grief can charm,

And fate's feverest rage difarm:

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Mufic can soften pain to ease,

And make despair and madness please:
Our joys below it can improve,

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And antedate the bliss above.

This the divine Cecilia found,

And to her Maker's praise 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,
Her's lift the foul to heav'n.

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TWO

CHORUSES

TO THE

Tragedy of BRUTUS.

YE

CHORUS of ATHENIANS.

STROPHE I,

E fhades, where facred truth is fought;
Groves, where immortal Sages taught:
Where heav'nly vifions Plato fir'd,
And Epicurus lay inspir'd!

In vain your guiltlefs laurels ftood
Unfpotted long with human blood.

War, horrid war, your thoughtless walks invades,
And fteel now glitters in the Muses shades.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Oh heav'n-born fifters! fource of art!

Who charm the fenfe or mend the heart;
Who lead fair Virtue's train along,
Moral truth and myftic Song!

To what new clime, what distant sky,
Forfaken, friendless, fhall ye fly?
Say, will ye blefs the bleak Atlantic fhore?
Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?

a Altered from Shakespear by the Duke of Buckingham, at whofe defire these two Chorufes were compofed to fupply as many, wanting in his play. They were fet many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-house.

STROPHE II.

When Athens finks by fates unjust,

When wild Barbarians fpurn her duft;
Perhaps ev❜n Britain's utmoft fhore

Shall cease to bluth with stranger's gore;
See Arts her favage fons controul,

And Athens rifing near the pole !

'Till fome new Tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And civil madnefs tears them from the land.
ANTIS TROPHE II,

Ye Gods! what juftice rules the ball?
Freedom and Arts together fall;
Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are.flaves.

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Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!

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Still, when the luft of tyrant pow'r fucceeds,
Some Athens perishes, fome Tully bleeds.

CHORUS OF YOUTHS and VIRGINS.

SEMICHORUS.

H Tyrant Love! haft thou poffeft

Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,

breaft

And Arts but foften us to feel thy flame.,
Love, foft intruder, enters here,

But entring learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
And Brutus tenderly reproves.

Why, Virtue, doft thou blame defire,

Which Nature has impreft?
Why Nature doft thou fooneft fire

The mild and gen'rous breast?

CHORUS.

Love's purer flames the Gods approve;
The Gods and Brutus bend to love:
Brutus for abfent Porcia fighs,

And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loofe love? a tranfient guft,
Spent in a fudden ftorm of luft,
A vapour fed from wild defire,
A wand'ring, felf.confuming fire.
But Hymen's kinder flames unite;
And burn for ever one;

Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh fource of ev'ry focial tye,

United with, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend?
Whether his hoary fire he fpies,

While thousand grateful thoughts arife;
Or meets his fpoufe's fonder eye;

'Or views his fmiling progeny;

What tender paflions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move?

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His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns, 35
With rev'rence, hope, and love.

CHORUS.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes, Hence falfe tears, deceits, difguifes, Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes ;

Fires that fcorch, yet dare not fhine:

Pureft love's unwafting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure;
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure ;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

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