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THE ANGLER'S WISH.
IN these flowery meads would be :
Sit here, and see the turtle-dove
Or, on that bank, feel the west wind
Here, hear my kenna sing a song:
Or a laverock build her nest:
Here, give my weary spirits rest,
Thus, free from lawsuits, and the oise
Or, with my Bryan and a book,
And angle on; and beg to have
WAS at the royal feast for Persia won
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 crown'd);
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 touch'd the lyre:
The song began from Jove
Who left his blissful seats above-
Then round her slender waist he curl'd,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. -The listening crowd admire the lofty sound!
A present deity! they shout around:
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound!
With ravish'd cars
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god;
Affects to nod
And seems to shake the spheres.
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung:
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
The jolly god in triumph comes !
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!
He shows his honest face:
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
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
The master saw the madness rise,
And while he Heaven and Earth defied
Soft pity to infuse:
With not a friend to close his eyes.
-With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of Chance below;
The mighty master smiled to see
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
Take the good the gods provide thee!
Who caused his care,
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
At length with love and wine at once'opprest
Now strike the golden lyre again :
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain !
Break his bands of sleep asunder
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 :