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Orpheus could lead the savage race;
And trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the lyre:

But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher
When to her organ vocal breath was given,
An angel heard, and straight appeared
Mistaking earth for heaven.

GRAND CHORUS.

As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the blessed above;

So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.

UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF JOHN But guide us upward to a better day.

MILTON.

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And as these nightly tapers disappear, When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;

So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;

So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.

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No pains she suffered, nor expired | True priests, he said, and preachers

with noise;

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of the word,

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[From Absalom and Achitophel.]
THE WIT.

A FIERY Soul, which, working out its
way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of
clay.

A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high

He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,

Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.

Great wits are sure to madness near allied,

And thin partitions do their bounds divide.

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