Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave None but the brave None but the brave deserves the fair! CHORUS-Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave None but the brave None but the brave deserves the fair! II Timotheus, placed on high With flying fingers touched the lyre: The song began from Jove Who left his blissful seats above- Then round her slender waist he curled, And stamped 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 ravished ears The monarch hears, Affects to nod And seems to shake the spheres. CHORUS-With ravished ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god, Affects to nod And seems to shake the spheres. III 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, Drinking joys did first ordain; Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. CHORUS-Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. IV 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; And, while he Heaven and Earth defied, Changed his hand and checked his pride. He chose a mournful Muse Soft pity to infuse: He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, On the bare earth exposed he lies With not a friend to close his eyes. -With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, The various turns of Chance below; The various turns of Chance below; V 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, Sighed and looked, and sighed again: At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. CHORUS 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 oppressed, VI 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. Hark, hark! the horrid sound 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 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 destroy; Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy! CHORUS-And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to de stroy; Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy! —Thus, long ago, VII Ere heaving bellows learned to blow, While organs yet were mute, Timotheus, to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Or both divide the crown; He raised a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down! GRAND CHORUS-At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store With Nature's mother-wit, and arts un known before. -Let old Timotheus yield the prize Or both divide the crown; He raised a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down! John Dryden [1631-1700] THE PASSIONS AN ODE FOR MUSIC WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young, |