So, when the sun in bed Curtained with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave; Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. But see, the Virgin blest Time is, our tedious song should here have ending: Hath fixed her polished car, Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. John Milton. ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC 'T WAS at the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne ; His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound, (So should desert in arms be crowned ;) The lovely Thais by his side Sate like a blooming Eastern bride In flower of youth and beauty's pride:- None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair! Timotheus, placed on high Amid the tuneful quire With flying fingers touched the lyre: The song began from Jove, And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound! A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound! The monarch hears, Assumes the god; Affects to nod, And seems to shake the spheres. The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, He shows his honest face : Now give the hautboys breath ; comes ! Bacchus, ever fair and young, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. he comes, he Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain: Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain ! The master saw the madness rise, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius great and good, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, By those his former bounty fed ; With not a friend to close his eyes. With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, The various turns of Chance below; The mighty master smiled to see Take the good the gods provide thee! The many rend the skies with loud applause: So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, At length, with love and wine at once opprest, Now strike the golden lyre again : A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Has raised up his head: As awaked from the dead And amazed, he stares around. Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise! See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.— The princes applaud with a furious joy; And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to de And, like another Helen, fired another Troy ! Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learned to blow, |