Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the furies arise : See the fnakes that they rear, How they hifs in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghaftly band, Each a torch in his hand! Those are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were flain, And unbury'd remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew. Behold how they toss their torches on high, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. CHORU S. And the king feiz'd a flambeau with zeal to deftroy ; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. VII. Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, Could swell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire. Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her facred store, And added length to folemn founds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown; He rais'd a mortal to the skies; She drew an angel down. Grand CHORUS. At last, divine Cecilia came, The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, And added length to folemn founds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown; He rais'd a mortal to the fkies; She drew an angel down. THE SECULAR MASQUE Enter Janus. Janus. Can hundred times the rolling fun Hronos, Chronos, mend thy pace, An Around the radiant belt has run In his revolving race. Behold, behold, the goal in fight, Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight. Enter Chronos, with a Scythe in his band, and a globe on his back; which he fets down at his entrance. Chronos. Weary, weary of my weight, Let me, let me drop my freight, And leave the world behind. I could not bear, · Another year, The load of human-kind. Enter Momus laughing. Momus. Ha! ha! ha!ha ha! ha! well haft thou done To lay down thy pack, And lighten thy back, The world was a fool, e'er fince it begun, And fince neither Janus nor Chronos, nor I, Or mend the bad times, 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. Cho. of all three. 'Tis better to laugh than to cry. Janus. Since Momus comes to laugh below, That he may fee, in every scene, What changes in this age have been. Chronos. Then goddess of the filver bow begin. [Horns, or hunting-mufic within.] Enter Diana. Di. With horns and with hounds, I waken the day; I tuck up my robe, and am bufkin'd soon, |