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IN A WINDOW AT GREENHITHE. Great President of light, and Fye of day, As through this glass you cast your visual ray, And view with nuptial joys two brothers blest, And see us celebrate the genial feast, Confess, that in your progress round the sphere, You've found the happiest youths and brightest

beauties here.

DIALOGUE DE L'AMOUR ET DU POETE.
Le P. Amour, je ne veux plus aimer;

Jabjure à jamais ton empire:
Mon cæur, lassé de son inartire,

A résolu de se calmer.
L'Am. Contre moi, qui peut t'animer?

Iris dans ses bras te rapelle.
LE P. Non, Iris est une infidelle;

Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.
L'Am. Pour toi, j'ai pris soin d'enflamer

Le cour d'une beauté nouvelle;
Daphne, -

|--LE P. Non, Daphné n'est que belle; Amour, je ne veux plus aimer. L'Am. D'un soupir, tu peux désarmer

Dircé, jusqu'ici si sauvage.
LE P. Elle n'est plus dans le bel age;

Amour, je ne veux plus ainer.
L'am. Mais si je t'aidois à charmer

La jeune, la brillante Flore.-
Tu rougis-vas-tu dire encore,

Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.
LE P. Non, dieu charmant, daigne former

Pour nous une chaine eternelle;
Mais pour tout ce qui n'est point elle,
Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.

THE TOASTERS. WHILE

Hile circling healths inspire your sprightly wit, And on each glass some beauty's praise is writ, You ask, my friends, how can my silent Muse To Montague's soft name a verse refuse? Bright though she be, of race victorious sprung, Ky wits ador'd, and by court-poets sung; Unmov'd I hear her person call'd divine, I see her features uninspiring shine; A softer fair my soul to transport warms, And, she once uam'd, no other nymph has charms.

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TOFTS AND MARGARETTA. Music has learn'd the discords of the state, And concerts jar with Whigs and Tory hate. Hlere Somerset and Devonshire attend The British Tofts, and every note commend; To native Merit just, and pleas’d to see We're Roman arts, froin Roman bondage free: There fam'd L'Epine does equal skill employ, While listening peers crowd to th' ecstatic joy: Bedford, to hear her song, his dice forsakes, And Nottingham is raptur'd when she shakes: Lullid statesmen melt away their drowsy cares Of Englaul's safety, in Italian airs. Who would not send cach year blank passes o'er, Rather than keep such strangers from our shore?

DIALOGUE FROM THE FRENCHI

OF MONSIEUR DE LA MOTTE.
POET. No, Love--I ne'er will love again;

Thy tyrant empire I abjure :
My weary heart resolves to cure

Its wounds, and ease the raging pain. LOVE. Fool! can t thou fly my happy reign?

Iris recals thee to her arms. POET. She's false-I hate her perjur'd charms;

No, Lovel ne'cr will love again. LOVE. But know, for thee P've toild to gain

Daphiné, the bright, the reigning toast. POET. Daphné but common eyes can boast;

No, Love- ne'er will love again. LOVE. She who before scorn'd every swain,

Dircé, shall for one sigh be thine. Port. Age makes her rays too faintly shine;

No, Love-I ne'er will love again.
LOVE. But should I give thee charms t'obtain

Flora, the young, the bright, the gay!
I see thee blush-now, rebel, say,

No, Love--I ne'er will love again.
POET. No, charming god, prepare a chain

Eterual for that fair and ine!
Yit still know every fair but she,
I've vow'd I ne'er will love again.

TIE WANDERING BEAUTY. The Graces and the wandering Loves

Are fled to distant plains,
To chase the fawns, or, decp in grores,

To wound adıniring swains.
With their bright mistress there they stray,

Who turns her careless eyes
From daily triumphs; yet, each day,
Beholds new triumphs in her way,

And conquers while she flies.
But sec! implor'd] by moving prayers,

To change the lover's pain,
Venus her harness'd doves prepares,

And brings the fair again.
Proud mortals, who this maid pursue,

Think you shelle'er resiun?
Cease, fools, your wishes to renew,
Till she grows flesh and blood like you,

Or you, like her, divine!.

L’ENUS AND ADONIS

A CANTATA.

SET BY MR. HANDEL.

RECITATIVE.

Bunold u bere weeping Venus stands !
What inore than mortal grief can move
The bright, th' immortal queen of love?
She bats her breast, she wrings her hands;

AIR.

AIR.

AN ODE.

AIR.

And hark, she mourns, but mourns in vain,

RECITATIVE, Her beauteous, lov'd Adonis, slain.

Ah, foolish Strephon! change thy strain; The hills and woods her loss deplore;

The lovely scene false joy inspires : The Naiads hear, and Rock around;

For look, thou fond, deluded swain, And Echo sighs, with mimic sound,

A rising storm invades the main! Adonis is no more!

The planet of the night, Again the goddess raves, and tears her hair:

Inconstant, from thy sight Then vents her grief, her love, and her despair. Behind a cloud retires.

Flora is filed; thou lov'st in vain :

Ah, foolish Strephon! change thy straice
Dear Adonis, Beauty's treasure,
Now my sorrow, once my pleasure;
O return to Venus' arms!

Hope beguiling,
Venus never will forsake thee;

Like the Moon and Ocean smiling,
Let the voice of Love o'ertake thee,

Does thy easy faith betray;
And revive thy drooping charms.

Flora ranging,
RECITATIVE.

Like the Moon and Ocean changing,

More inconstant proves than they,
Thus, queen of beauty, as the poets feign,
While thou didst call the lovely swain;

Transforin'd by heavenly power,
The lovely swain arose a flower,
And, siniling, grac'd the plain.

BEAUTY,
And now he blooms, and now he fades;
Venus and gloomy Proserpine

Fair rival to the god of day,
Alternate clain bis charms divine;
By tuins restor'd to light, by turns he seeks the Beauty, to thy celestial ray

A thousand sprightly fruits we owe;
shades.

Gay wit, and moving eloquence,

And every art t'improve the sense,
Transporting joy,

And every grace that shines below.
Tormenting fears,

Not Phoebus does our songs inspire,
Reviving smiles,

Nor did Cyllenius forın the lyre,
Succeeding tears,

'Tis thou art music's living spring;
Are Cupid's various train.

To thee the poet tunes his lays,
The tyrant boy

And, sweetly warbling Beauty's praise,
Prepares his darts,

Describes the power that makes him sing:
With soothing wiles,
With cruel arts,

Painters from thee their skill derive,
And pleasure blends with pain.

By thee their works to ages live,
For ev'n thy shadows give surprise,
As when we view in crystal streams
The morning Sun, and rising beams,

That seem to shoot from other skies.
CANTATA.

Enchanting vision! who can be
PASTORAL

Unmov'd that turns his eyes on thee?
Yet brighter still thy glories shine,
And double charms thy power improve,
When Beauty, dress'd in smiles of Love,

Grows, like its parent Heaven, divine!
Young Strephon, by his folded sheep,
Sat wakeful on the plains;
Love held his weary eyes from sleep,
While, silent in the vale,

MYRA.
The listening nightingale,

A CANTATA.
Forgot her own, to hear his strains.
And now the beauteous queen of night,

Unclouded and serene,
Shels on the neighbouring sea her silver light;

The neighbouring sea was calm and bright; Love frowns in beauteous Myra's eyes;
The shepherd sung inspird, and bless'd the lovely

Ah, nymph! those cruel looks give o'er.

While Love is frowning, Beauty dies,
AIR.

And you can charm no more.
While the sky and seas are shining,
See, my Flora's charms they wear;

Mark, how, when sullen clouds appear, Secret Night, my joys divining,

And wintry storins deface the year,
Pleas'd my amorous tale to hear,

The prudent cranes no longer stay,
Smiles, and softly turns her spbere.

But take the wing, and through the air, While the sky and seas are shining,

From the cold region fly away,
Sec, my Flora's charms they wear. And far o'er land and seas to warmer climges repair

SET BY DR. PEPUSCH.

RECITATIVE.

SET BY DR. PEPUSCU,

AIR.

scene.

RECITATIVE.

RECITATIVE.

AIR.

Just so, my heart-But seems
Ah no!

While, loud with conquest and with wine, She smiles--I will not, cannot go.

His jolly troop around him reel'd along,

And taught the vocal skies to join
AIR,

In this applauding song.
Love and the Graces smiling,
In Myra's eyes beguiling,

DUETTO.
Again their charms recover,

Bacchus, ever gay and young,
Would you secure your duty,

First did drinking joys ordain:
Let kindness aid your beauty,

1. Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Ye fair, to sooth the lover,

2. Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.

1. Rich the treasure!

2. Sweet the pleasure !

POTH. Sweet is pleasure after pain !
ALEXANDER'S FEAST;
OR,

Fir'd with the sound, the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again,
THE POWER OF MUSIC:

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY,

slew the slain.

The master saw the madness rise,
BY MR. DRYDEN.

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
ALTERED FOR MUSIC BY MR. HUGHES.

And while he Heaven and Earth defy'd,

He chose a mournful Muse,
RECITATIVE,

Soft pity to infuse;

(pride, 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won

Then thus he chang'd his song, and check'd his
By Phillip's warlike son;
Aloft in awful state,
The godlike hcro sate

See Darius great and good,
On his imperial throne:

By too severe a fate,
His valiant peers were plac'd around;

Fall'n from his high estate: Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound.

Behold his flowing blood !

On earth th' expiring monarrh lies,
AIR.

With not a friend to close his eyes.
Lovely Thais by his side
Blooming sat in beauty's pride.

RECITATITE.
Happy, happy, happy pair!

With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, None but the brave deserves the fair!

Revolving in his alter'd soul
RECITATIVE.

The various turns of chance below;

And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
Timotheus plac'd on high,

And tears began to flow,
Amid the tunetul quire,

The mighty master smild to see
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;

That Love was in the next degree,
Trembling the notes ascend the sky,

'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,

For Pity melts the mind to Love,
Who left bis blissful seats above;

Softly sweet in Lydian measures, (Such is the power of inighty Love!)

Soon he sooth’d his soul to pleasures. A dragon's fiery form bely'd the yod;

WITH FLUTES, Sublime on radiant spires he rode,

War is toil and trouble, When he to fair Olympia pressid,

Honour is an airy bubble,
And while he sought her snow y breast;

Never ending, still beginning,
Then round her slender waist he curl’d,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of

Fighting still, and still destroying,

If the world be worth thy winning, the world. The listening crowd adore the lofty sound,

Think, ( think it, worth enjoying; A present deity, they shout around:

Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
A present deity, the echoing roofs rebound;

Take the good the gods provide thee
AIR,
With ravish'd ears

The prince anable to conceal his pain,
The monarch hears,

Gaz'd on the fair,
Assumes the god,

Who caus'd his care,
Affects the nod,

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and lookid,
And seems to shake the spheres.

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:

At length, with Love and Wine at once oppressid, RECITATIVE.

The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breasta The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,

DUETTO.
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young:
Behold he comes, the victor god!

1. Phæbus, patron of the lyre,
Flush' with a purple grace,

2. Cupid, god of soft desire, He shows his honest face ;

[rode, 1. Cupid, god of soft desire, As when, by tigers drawn, o'er India's plains he 2. Phæbus, patron of the lyre,

AIR.

RECITATIVE.

RECITATIVE.

I, and 2. How victorious are your charms!

And thy bright eye is brighter far 1. Crown'd with conquest,

Than any planet, any star. 2. Full of glory,

Thy sordid way of life despise, 1. and 2. See a monarch fall'n before ye,

Above thy slavery, Silvia, rise;
Chain'd in Beauty's clasping arms! Display thy beauteous form and inien,

And grow a goddess, or a queen.
Now strike the golden lyre again;
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain:

CONSTANTIA, see, thy faithful slave
Brtak his bands of sleep asunder,

Dies of the wound thy beauty gave!
Rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder,

Ah! gentle nymph, no longer try
Hark, hark, the horrid sound

From fond pursuing Love to tiy.
Has rais'd up bis head,
As awak'd from the dead,

Thy pity to my love impart,
And amaz'd he stares around!

Pity my bleeding aching heart,
Regard my sighs and flowing tears,

And with a smile remove my fears,
Revenge, revenge, Alecto cries,

A wedded wife if thou would'st be,
See, the Furies arise!

By sacred Hlymen join'd to me,
See the snakes that they rear,

Ere yet the western Sun decline,
How they hiss in their hair,

My hand and heart shall both be thine,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !

RECITATIVE.
Behold a ghastly band,

Thrice lov'd Constantia, heavenly fair,
Each a torch in his hand!

For thee a servant's form I wear;
Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, "Though blest with wealth, and nobly born,
And unbury'd remain,

For thee, both wealth and birth I scorn:
Inglorious on the plain.

Trust me, fair maid, my constant flame
Give the vengeance due

For ever will remain the same;
To the valiant crew.

My love, that ne'er will cease, my love
Behold how they toss their torches on high,

Shall equal to thy beauty prove.
How they point to the Persian abu-les.
And glittering temples of their hostile gods !

AIR.

WITH SYMPHONIES.

AIR.

WITH THEIR

WIVES

TRANSLATED The princes applaud with a furious joy;

FROM PERSLAVVERSES. And the king seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroyi

ALLUDING TO THI: CUSTOM OF WOMEN BEING BURIED
Thais led the way,

WITH THEIR HUSBANDS, AND MEN
To light him to his prey,
And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy,

Eternal are the chains which here
RECITATIVE

The generous souls of lovers bind,
Thus long ago,

When Jlymen joins our hands, we swear
Ere hearing bellows learn'd to blow,

To be for ever true and kind;
While organs yet were mute;

And when, by Death, the fair are snatch'd away, Timotheus, to his breathing flute,

Lest we our solemn vows should break,
And sounding lyre,

In the same grave our living corpse we lay,
Could swell the soul to race, or kindle soft desire. And willing the same fate pai take,

At last divine Cecilia came,

Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

AVOTHER,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn sounds, [fore. My dearest spouse, that thou and I
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown be- May shun the fear which first shall die,

Clasp'd in each other's arms we'll live,

Alike consum'd in Love's soft fire,
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

That either may at last survive,
Or both divide the crown;

But gentle both at once expire.
He rais'd a mortal to the skies,

She drew an angel down,

AIR.

SONGS,
Tuy origin's divine, I see,
Of mortal race thou canst not be;
Thy lip a ruby lustre shows;
Thy purple check outshines the rose,

ON ARQEZNASSA OF COLOPHIOS.
ARQUEänassa's charms inspire

Within my breast a lover's fire;
Age, its feeble spite displaying,

Vainly wrinkles all her face,
Cupids, in each wrinkle playing,

Charm my eyes with lasting grace :

FROM THE LATIN OF AUGUSTUS CÆSAR.

To cry

AN

OCCASIONED BY

But before old Time pursued her,

Masons, instead of " building houses," Ere he sunk these little caves,

To“ build the church,” would starve their spouses, How I pity those who view'd her,

And gladly leave their trades, for storming
And in youth were made her slaves!

The meeting houses or informing.
Bawds, strumpets, and religion-haters,
Pimnps, pandars, atheists, fornicators,

Rogues, that, like Falstaff, scarce know whether ON FULVIA, TIIE WIFE OF ANTIIONY.

A church's inside's stone or leather,
Yet join thc parsons and the people,

"the church,"-but mean “ the steeple.” Wuile from his consort false Antonius flics, If, holy mother, such you'll own And doats on Glaphyra's far hrighter eyes,

For your true sons, and such alone,
Fulvia, provok'd, her female arts prepares,

Then Heaven have mercy upon you,
Reprisals seeks, and spreads for me her snares. But the de'il take your beastly crew,!
" The husband's false."-But why must I endure
This nauseous plague, and her revenge procure?
What though she ask? ---How happy were my doom,
Should all the discontented wives of Rome
Repair in crowds to me, when scorn'd at home!

ADE TO THE CREATOR OF THE WORLD. " 'Tis war," she says “ if I refuse her charms :” Let's think-she's ugly.- Trumpets,sound to arms!

THE FRAGMENTS OF ORPHEUS.

Quid prius dicam solitis parentis
HUDIBRAS IMITATED,

Landibus?

Qui mare & terras, variisque mundum
WRITTEN IN 1710.

Temperat horis?
BLESSED time of reformation,

Unde nil inajus generatur ipso; That's now beginning through the nation !

Nec viget quicquam simile, aut secundum. The Jacks bawl loud for church triumphant,

Horat. And swear all Whigs shall kiss the rump on't. See how they draw the beastly rabble With zeal and noises formidable,

INTRODUCTION TO THE FOLLOWING And make all cries about the town

ODE. Join notes to roar fanatics down!

That the praises of the Author of Nature, which As bigots give the sign about,

is the fittest subject for the sublime way of writing, They stretch their throats with hideous shout.

was the most ancient use of poetry, cannot be Black tinkers bawl aloud “ to settle

learned from a more proper instance (next to ex“ Church privilege"'--for “ mending kettle.”

amples of holy writ) than from the Greek frag. Each sow-gelder that blows his horn,

ments of Orpheus; a relique of great antiquity: Cries out “ to have dissenters sworn."

they contain several verses concerning God, and The oyster-wenches lock their fish up,

his making and governing the universe; which, And cry “no presbyterian bishop!"

though imperfect, have many noble hints and The mouse-trap men lay save-alls by,

lofty expressions. Yet, whether these verses were And 'gainst " low-church men” loudly cry; indeed written by that celebrated father of poetry A creature of amphibious nature,

and music, who preceded Homer, or by OnomaThat trims betwixt the land and water,

critus, who lived about the time of Pisistratus, And leaves his mother in the lurch,

and only contain some of the doctrines of OrTo side with rebels 'gainst the church!

pheus, is a question of little use or importance. Some cry for “ penal laws," instead

A large paraphrase of these in French verse has Of“ pudding-pies, and gingerbread :"

been prefixed to the translation of Phocylides, but And some, for“ brooms, old boots, and shoes,"

in a flat style, much inferior to the design. The Roar out, “ God bless our commons' house !"

following ode, with many alterations and additions Some bawl " the votes about the town,

proper to a modern poem, is attempted upon the And wish they'd “ vote dissenters down.”

same model, in a language which, having stronger Instead of “ kitchen-stuft," some cry,

sinews than the French, is, by the confession of “ Confound the late whig-ininistry !”

their best critic, Rapin, more capable of sustainAnd some, for“ any chairs to mend,"

ing great subjects.
The commons' late address commend.
Some for " old gowns for china ware,'
Exclaim against “ extempore prayer :"
And some for “old suits, cloaks, or coats,"

ODE TO THE CREATOR OF THE WORLD.
Cry, “ D--n your preachers without notes!”
He that cries " coney skins, or onions,"

O Muse unfeign'd! ( true cclestial fire, Blames “ toleration of opinions,"

Bright:r than that which rules the day, Blue-apron whores, that sit with furmety,

Descend! a mortal tongue inspire Rail at " occasional conformity.”

To sing some great immortal lay! Instead of “ cucumbers to pickle,"

Pegin, and strike aloud the consecrated lyre! Some cry alaud, no conventicle!”

Hence, ye profane! be far away!

AN

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