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Yet Grecia's graceful orders join,
Ye forms divine, ye laureate band,
AN ODE FOR MUSIC. WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell, Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Possest beyond the Muse's painting ; By turns they felt the glowing mind Disturbid, delighted, rais’d, retin’d; Till once, 't is said, when all were fir'd, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir’d, From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound, And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each, for madness rul’d the hour, Would prove his own expressive power. First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made.
Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings, In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woeful measures wan Despair
Low sullen sounds his grief beguild, A solemn, strange, and mingled air,
'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild.
But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong,
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smild, and wav'd her golden
hair. And longer had she sung — but, with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose,
And, with a withering look,
And ever and anon he beat,
The doubling drum with furious heat; [tween, And though sometimes, each dreary pause be
Dejected Pity at his side
Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain’d ball of sight seem'd bursting
from his head.
Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd,
Sad proof of thy distressful state, Of differing themes the veering song was mix’d, And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on • Hate
With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd,
And dashing soft from rocks around
Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; (stole, Through glades and glooms the mingled measure Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay,
Round an holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung.
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known; The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd
queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen,
Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear,
And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial, He, with viny crown advancing,
First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, .
They would have thought, who heard the strain,
Amidst the festal sounding shades,
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
And he, amidst his frolic play,
O Music, sphere-descended maid,