The Furies fink upon their iron beds, And snakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads. V. By the ftreams that ever flow, By those happy fouls who dwell Or Amaranthine bow'rs; He fung, and hell confented To hear the Poet's prayer: And gave him back the fair. 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: 75 85 90 95 Now Now under hanging mountains, Befide the falls of fountains, Or where Hebrus wanders, Rolling in Meanders, Unheard, unknown, He makes his moan; Defpairing, confounded, He trembles, he glows, Amidst Rhodope's fnows: See, wild as the winds, o'er the defart he flies; Hark! Hamus refounds with the Bacchanals cries Ah fee, he dies! Yet ev❜n in death Eurydice he fung, Eurydice still 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 fevereft rage difarm: Mufic can soften pain to ease, And make despair and madness please: Our joys below it can improve, And antedate the blifs above. This the divine Cecilia found, 115 120 And to her Maker's praise confin'd the found. 125 When When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear; 130 TWQ TWO CHORU S'S TO THE Tragedy of BRUTUS". YE CHORUS of ATHENIANS. STROPHE I. E fhades, where facred truth is fought; In vain your guiltlefs laurels ftood War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades, ANTIS TROPHE I Oh heav'n-born fifters! source of art! Moral Truth, and myftic Song! To *Altered from Shakespear by the Duke of Buckingham, at whofe defire thefe two Chorus's were composed to fupply as many, wanting in his play. They were fet many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-houfe. P. To what new clime, what distant sky, Say, will ye blefs the bleak Atlantic shore? STROPHE II. When Athens finks by fates unjust, And Athens rifing near the pole ! ANTIS TROPHE II. In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state! Still, when the luft of tyrant power fucceeds, 3 CHORUS |