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First charm’d the ear of youthful Time,

With numbers wrapt in heav'nly fire ;

Who bade delighted Echo swell

The trembling transports of the lyre,

The murmur of the shell,

Why to the burst of Joy alone
Accords sweet Music's soothing tone?
Why can no bard, with magic strain,
In slumbers steep the heart of pain?
While varied tones obey your sweep,
The mild, the plaintive, and the deep,
Bends not despairing Grief to hear
Your golden lute, with ravish'd ear?
Oh! has your sweetest shell no power to bind
The fiercer pangs that shake the mind,

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And lull the wrath, at whose command

Murder bares her gory hand?
When flush'd with joy, the rosy throng
Weave the light dance, ye swell the song!

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Cease, ye vain warblers! cease to charm The breast with other raptures warm! Cease! till your hand with magic strain In slumbers steep the heart of pain !

SPEECH OF THE CHORUS IN THE SAME

TRAGEDY,

TO DISSUADE MEDEA FROM HER PURPOSE OF PUTTING HER

CHILDREN TO DEATH, AND FLYING FOR

PROTECTION TO ATHENS.

O HAGGARD queen! to Athens dost thou guide

Thy glowing chariot, steep'd in kindred gore; Or seek to hide thy damned parricide

Where Peace and Mercy dwell for ever more ?

The land where Truth, pure, precious, and sublime,

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Woos the deep silence of sequester'd bowers, And warriors, matchless since the first of Time,

Rear their bright banners o'er unconquer'd towers!

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