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A dragon's fiery form bely'd the God:
Sublime on radiant fpheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,
And ftamp'd an image of himself, a fov'reign of the world.
The lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found;

A prefent deity they shout around,

A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:

With ravish'd ears

The monarch hears,

Affumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And feems to shake the fpheres.

The praife of Bacchus then, the fweet musician fung
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young:

The jolly god in triumph comes;

Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Flush'd with a purple grace
He fhews his honeft face.

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!
Bacchus ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain :
Bacchus' bleffings are a treasure,
Drinking is the foldier's pleasure

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure ;

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain ;
Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the flain

The mafter faw the madness rife ;

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

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And while he heav'n and earth defy'd

Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.

He chofe a mournful mufe

Soft pity to infuse:

He fung Darius great and good,
By too fevere a fate,

Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fall'n from his high eftate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deferted at his utmoft need,
By thofe his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,

With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downçaft look the joyless victor fate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of fate below;
And now and then a figh he stole;
And tears began to flow,

The mighty master fmil'd, to fee
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred found to move;
For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War he fung is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting ftill, and still destroying:

If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O, think it worth enjoying!

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Lovely Thais fits befide thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.→→→→→→
The many rend the skies with loud applause;
So love was crown'd, but mufic won the cause,
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look,
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again;

At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again;

And louder yet, and yet a louder strain,
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark, the horrid found

Has rais'd up his head;

As awak'd from the dead,

And amaz'd, he ftares around.

Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,

See the furies arise,

See the fnakes that they rear,

How they hifs in the air,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand,

Thefe are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain,

And unbury'd remain
Inglorious on the plain;
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew:



Behold how they tofs their torches on high,
How they point to the Perfian abodes,
And glitt❜ring temples of their hoftile gods !-
The Princes applaud, with a furious joy;
And the King feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to deftroy;
Thais led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute;

Timotheus to his breathing flute

And founding lyre,

Could fwell the soul to rage, or kindle foft defire.
At laft divine Cecilia came,
Inventrefs of the vocal frame;

The sweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to folemn founds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before,
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,`

Or both divide the crown;

He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.






Lately published, printed in the fame Manner, with Flates) Price 5s. in Boards,


EXERCISES in ELOCUTION: Selected from the beft AUTHORS. Being a SEQUEL to the SPEAKER.


Printed for J. JOHNSON, St.. Paul's Church-Yard,

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