In it's true nature, and we urselves compell'd,
Ev'n to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?!
Oh wretched state ! oh bosom black as death!
Oh limed soul, that struggling to be free,

Art more engag'd! Help, angels ! make essay ! Bow, stubborn knees; and heart, with strings of

steel,

Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!"

All may be well.

-0000

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAP. XXXI.

ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

DESCEND, ye Nine ! descend and sing
The breathing instruments inspire ;
Wake into voise each silent string,
And sweep the sounding lyre!
In a sadly pleasing strain
Let the warbling late complain :
Let the loud trumpet sound,
Till the roofs all around

The shrill echoes rebound :

While in more lengthend notes and slow
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers soft and clear

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rise,

And fill with spreading sounds the skies; Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes; In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats ; Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The strains decay,

And melt away.
In a dying, dying fall.

By Music, minds fn equal temper know,
Not swell too high, nor smk too low;
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;
Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
Exalts her in enliv❜ning airs:

Warriors she fires with animated sounds,
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds ;
Alelancholy lifts her head,

Morpheus rouses from his bed,

Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
List'ning Envy drops her snakes,
Intestine war no more our Passions wage,
And giddy Factions hear away their rage.

But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial music ev'ry bosom warms!
So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas,
High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain,
While Argo saw her kadied trees

D. srend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demigods stood round,
"And men grew heroes at the sound,
Inflam'd with glory's charms :
Each chief his sev'nfold shield aisplay'd,
And half unsheath'd the shining blate :
And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms to arms to arms !

But when through all the infernal bounds, -Which, flaming Phlegethon surrounds.. Love, strong as Death, the poet led To the pale nations of the dead,

What sounds were heard,

What scenes appear 'u,

Q'er all, the dreary coasts ?

Dread:ui gleams,

Dismal screams,
Fires that glowg
Shrieks of WC,

Sullen

Sullen moans

Hellow groans,

And cries of tortur'd ghosts!

But hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
And see the tortur'd ghosts respire,

See, shady for ns advance!

Thy stone, O Sysiphus, stands still,

Ixion rests upon his wheel,

And the pale spectres dance !

The furies sink upon their iron beds,

And snakes uncurl'a hang list'ning round their heads.
By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow
O'er th' Elysian flowers;
By those happy souls who dwell
In yellow meads of Asphodel,
Or Amaranthine bow'rs;
By the hero's armed shades,
Glittring through the gloomy glades
By the youths that dy'd for love,
Wand'ring in the myrtie grove,

Restore, restore Eurydice to life:
Oh! take the husband, or return the wife!
He sung, and hell consented

To hear the Poet's prayer:
Stern Proserpine relented,

And gave him back the fair.
Thus song could prevar

O'er death and o'er hell,

A conquest how hard, and how glorious!
Though fate had fast bound her

With styx nine times round her,

Yet music and love were victorious.

But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes,
Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
No crine was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
Now under hanging mountains,
Beside the falls of rountains.

Unheard, unknown,
He makes his moan;
And calls her ghost,
For ever, ever ever lost!
Now with furies surrounded,
Despairing, confounded,
He trembles, he glows,

Amidst Rhodope's snows;

See wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies; Hark! Hamus resounds with the Bacchanal's cries—

Yet ev❜n in death Eurydice he sung,

Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,
Eurydice the woods,

Eurydice the floods,

Ah see he dies i

Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains

Music the fiercest grief can charm,
And fate's severest rage disarm;
Music can soften pain to ease,

rung.

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

And antedate the bliss above.
This the divine Cecilia found,

And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound.
When the full organ joins the tuneful quire
Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear;
Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
While solemn airs improve the sacred fire ;a
And Angels lean from heav'n to hear.
Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
To bright Cecilia greater power is giv'n;
His numbers rais'a a shade from hell,
Hers lift the soul to heav'n.

POPE.

CHAP.

TWAS at the royal feast, for Persia won,

By Philip's warlike son;
Aloft in awful state

The god-like hero sate

On his imperial throne :

His valiant peers were plac'd around; Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound; So should desert in arms be crown'd.

The lovely Thais by his side

Sat, like a blooming eastern bride,
In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

Timotheus plac'd on high

Amid the tuneful quite,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,

And heavenly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove;

Who left his blissful seats above,
Such is his pow'r of mighty love!
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the God:
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,

When he the fair Olympia press'd,

And while he sought her snowy breast;

Then, round her slender waist he curl'd.

And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of

the world.

The list'ning crowd admir'd the lofty sou id; A present deity, they shout around;

A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:

With ravish'd ears

The monarch hears,

A sumes